"There are three types of physicians: unsurpassed, expert, and ordinary. The category of "unsurpassed physician" refers to the Medicine Buddha alone, because he is the Supreme Physician who dispels the afflictions of the three poisons of attachment, hatred, and delusion, together with their consequences. An expert physician is one who possesses clairvoyance, who knows the minds of others, and is imbued with loving-kindness and integrity. Such a doctor is able to discern every type of illness by means of his extrasensory perception, without having to rely upon the patient's account of the illness. Then with a motivation of compassion and loving-kindness, he is able to pacify all manner of illnesses, like Buddha who has pacified his own afflictions and thereby is able to pacify the afflictions of others. An ordinary physician is one who becomes a doctor with the self-centered aspiration to make a living, and to acquire reputation and wealth. Someone who enters the medical profession with such a motivation is said to be in the same class as a butcher."

Wow.

These are the words of Dr. Yeshi Dhonden, personal physician of the Dalai Lama, from his book on Tibetan medicine that I bought in the Medical and Astrology Institute bookstore. He has a clinic in McLeod Ganj and I had read before coming to India that he will see every person that shows up at his clinic, no matter how long the line or how late the day. One of the things I really wanted to do on this trip was to visit him. My timing was not so good. Like the Dalai Lama who is in Europe, Dr. Dhonden was also out of town, traveling in the United States. I found his clinic hidden down a narrow path. A metal gate across the front locked the entrance. The sign behind said that he would be gone until January and no new patients would be seen until then. I had noticed another Tibetan medical clinic in the village. Outside it hung a sign that advertised a "lady doctor". I went there instead.

The waiting room had grungy pale pink walls and on one, of course, was a large picture of the Dalai Lama. There were four wooden benches that needed painting, with black vinyl cushions, arranged in a square with a center coffee table on which were some magazines. Along one wall, just beyond the entrance, was the pharmacy. A man stood behind shelves of jars filled with pills of many different sizes - mostly brown ones resembling strange nuts. Through a little window opening in the jar wall, he would dispense medicines as I watched, while I waited.

And then it was my turn. Four Indians had walked out from behind a curtain down the hallway, and they motioned for me to take their place. Behind the curtain was an office with a woman in traditional Tibetan dress sitting behind a desk, books spread out open in front of her. I said, "You're busy today,” hoping to make a connection. She just looked at me. She was obviously waiting for me to lodge my chief complaint. Well, here goes, I thought. "I have been having headaches." She looked decidedly non-plussed. "How long - one week, three, four?"

"One or two," I said, "behind my eyes."
"Nose running?" she asks gesturing snot dripping from her nose. "Just here?" She points to her forehead with pinched fingers. "Warmth with it?" I thought she meant fever and I said no.
"Stomach?" She pantomimes stomach contents coming up and out her mouth.
"No," I say, "but maybe a little bit queasy."
"And how is your motion?" Hmmm... She means bowel movement it becomes clear.
"And your appetite? Eating good? Sleeping good?"
"Too much," I say. I have been lazy.
She took my right wrist and felt my pulse for about thirty seconds, then did the same with my left as she quietly stared off out the window. It did not seem that she was concentrating on it.
She wrote some things on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "Once in the morning and at night. No, not a pain reliever. Yes, take everyday, even those without headaches," she answered my queries.
And that was that. There had been no smile, no warmth, no connection.

I took my paper to the pharmacist and he handed it back to me after about five minutes - along with two small clear plastic bags of those various brown pills. On a little green sheet of paper tucked inside one of the bags was "Morning pills. Take three. Chew or crush them one half hour before breakfast." The other had a green sheet that said, "Evening pills. Take one big and 4 small together one half hour before meal."

Then he charged me fifty rupees for the medical consultation and the medicine together. Forty-five Indian rupees is one US dollar right now. Amazing. My next meal of Paneer Butter Masala cost me sixty.