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Dolma or a sweet Love Story

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Watercolor by the Chilean painter Julio Escámez (1966).

This dog was with Miguel Serrano for almost ten years.

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Has anyone of you had a dog? You, lonely man or lonely woman, have you had a dog as a companion during long lasting hours of confinement, during walks through hills, or when reading or listening music in the afternoons?; or when watching shadows on the walls, or the soft light that crosses filtering through the windows at sunset? Have you suddenly felt those eyes staring at you in the darkness? As those eyes were crossing yours? As if they were trying to ask you something? Or telling a secret? Or a deep thought about life or death? The dog is there, being a companion, at moments of deepest sorrow, uncalm, hopeless moments, feeling with you, sympathizing with you with it thought, open eyes that are words, as cliffs, staring at your eyes, in a dialogue of silence.

I also had a dog. She was a sweet puppy from the Tibet. She was a companion through the years and left me forever at the end of 1971. A year so filled of ruin. I want to tell here her tiny and tender story.

It was ten years ago, when I left India, to take over the role as Ambassador of my country to Yugoslavia. I became a friend of the Dalai Lama and as such I went to say goodbye. He was in New Delhi having left for some few days his mountains at Dharmasala. I went to visit him, carrying as a present a piece of ceramic of Quinchamalí, a fish figure, a symbol of the Pisces Era that soon after would be turned into the Aquarius Era.

The Supreme chief of the Tibet was touched by that modest piece of ceramic from my fatherland. He consulted me, through his translator, on a present I would wish to have from Him. An idea somehow extravagant came to my mind, to reply something I mentioned those Tibetan puppies, the so called “lions of the Temple´s back doors”. In the paintings they have wings, because they run and jump as if they had ones. Tibetan Lamas use to have them in close proximity, under their cloaks, during meditation. Long locks of hair fall across their forehead covering their eyes and it race is named “Apso-Lhasa.” They are a tantric Buddhist and a Tibetan magic creation.

The Dalai Lama agreed with a soft smile, then I said goodbye. Later I forgot everything but thinking first as if all had been an amiable play, pleasant, as part of that court in exile protocol. I realized as well that I was somehow extravagant mentioning such a present.

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