The crowd, straining every muscle to get a brief touch of his robe, was violently thrown back by Indian police as the Dalai Lama passed. It was unlike anything I had experienced before or have since: such extreme fervor of religious devotion for a single man. How, I wondered, could this gentle, mild-mannered monk support such a high level of expectation? "I've never seen anything like this in my life. How do you deal with it?" I ask. He thinks for a few moments, apparently oblivious to the small riot developing from this brief delay (and much to the aggravation of the Indian police and a wandering cow). "I'm carrying Buddha's message," he finally replies. "People have affinity for Buddha, and therefore they have affinity for me." The humility was characteristically disarming.
