CULTURE: Chandragiri, mini-tibet shifts with time

Tucked in Gajapati district’s green folds, Chandragiri’s Phuntosokling Tibetan Settlement stands as Odisha’s own slice of Tibet, a refuge since 600 families landed in 1963. I’m strolling through today, past thatched roofs and prayer flags, where monks in ochre robes brush shoulders with kids in knockoff jeans—exile’s old guard meeting a restless new wave. The forest still hugs tight, though elephants and leopards have faded, and this mini-Tibet hums with a culture caught between roots and reach.

The elders cling hard—chapus on, traditions stitched tight, dreaming of a free Tibet they might never see. Carpet looms clack, sweaters pile up for winter sales, and their dogs fetch a pretty penny—livelihoods carved from grit. But the young ones sway to Hindi film beats, eyes on smartphones, nudging at modern schooling where options stay slim. A grandmother might frown, spinning wool, while her grandson scrolls reels—a slow unraveling of the old ways.

Dalai Lama’s shadow looms large—his reps run the show, and village schools keep the kids steeped in Tibetan tongue, shunning outside sway. Rallies ripple out from here, voices raised for a homeland lost, a hope that doesn’t dim. I catch a vendor haggling over a rug, his accent thick, his kids dreaming bigger than these hills. Chandragiri’s no museum piece—it’s a living bridge, straddling yesterday and tomorrow with a quiet, stubborn pulse.