Tibet. Land of mysteries. Unknown to the external world even in the early decades of the twentieth century. Great valleys crouching beneath snow laden mountains. Lakes mirroring blankets of snow. Majestic Buddhist edifices. Conspicuous to the world for political reasons, this dark land enclosed by huge mountains ranges was sparingly trodden till recently.

    It was mid noon when we landed at Lhasa the Tibetan capital. It took two hours' drive into Lhasa city. First destination next day was Potala Palace which Tibetans proudly claim to be the prime miracle since the creation of this world.

    Bitter cold permeated around. At Lhasa temperatures go as low as 5¡ãC. Nights have even wollen sweaters captivated by cold.

Potala Palace is visible from any distance, with the golden roof shinning in the sun. Its interiors house a thousand suns to astound the hapless visitor. The palace is as old as the city of Lhasa, which claims a heritage of 1,300 years.

Its construction began in the sixth century A.D. but completed only in 17th century during the days of the fifth Dalai Lama. From this red peak, the toil of millions who drained their life here, smile upon the world as the largest palace ever constructed by human hands.

    Potala Palace was the abode of the Lamas. Their investiture, schooling, growing up-all happened here. 1,300 chambers spread across 130,000 sq. meters. Amidst renovation initiated by the Chinese government, men at work come across even chambers. In the last two years only China has spent as much as 2,000 millions dollars upon the palace.

Potala Palace stands as if it grew with the mountain peak. The grand interiors housed 13 stories bear almost anything. Buddhist sculptures, places for worship and meditation, antiques and curios heralding the rich and age-old heritage of Tibet.

The palace has quite fittingly found a place in UNESCO's world cultural heritages list and it boasts of a huge inflow of tourists. The palace is like two snakes coiled upon each other. One white palace, the other red. White palace was the political headquarters of the Lamas, the red was their spiritual headquarters.

    A host of paintings welcome the guests even as they step in. Every Lama gas made his contribution to the palace. Approximately ten thousand pictures have taken their lives from the Buddhist concept that 'Not a Thing Shall be Spoilt'.

    On leaving the paintings arcade, the accompanying Chinese diplomat showed us the room once occupied by Dalai Lamas. Forsaken corridors. Strange indeed are the predilections if history. Painting adorning the magnificent walls aches to say something. Silence pervades all.

    While leaving the prayer hall with silent prayers for the Tibetans in India dreaming of their homeland, Sunita Dwivedi of our team whispered: "Back at Delhi I should tell my Tibetan friend that their palace is beautiful; that it is a golden feather upon the roof of the world. "

    No artillery, no infantry, nor is there elephant or armory or trenches. Alike in the light sun and in darkness, the Palace of Serenity stands glistening.