Q: Where does the Dalai Lama meet with Chairman Mao?
Text: <b>                                 KUNDUN
</b>




                                                      Melissa Mathison

                                                      16 October 1992






                             Cast of Characters
                          (in order of appearance)

     Reting Rinpoche ... Regent of Tibet, served in the years between
           the death of the Thirteenth Dalai Lama and the discovery
           of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama.  A monk.
     Lama of Sera ... Keustang Rinpoche  A high lama.
     Lhamo Dhondrup ... The Fourteenth Dalai Lama.  Also known
           as Tenzin Gyatso.
     Lobsang Samten ... The Dalai Lama's immediate older brother.
     Tsering Dolma  ... The Dalai Lama's older sister.
     Mother ... The Dalai Lama's mother.
     Father ... The Dalai Lama's father.
     Chinese Governor ... Representative of China in Amdo Province
     Takster Rinpoche ... The Dalai Lam's oldest brother, abbot of
           Kumbum Monastery.
     Bodyguard ... A Khamba, monk bodyguard.
     The Attendants ... Masters of the Kitchen, the Robe and the
           Ritual.  All monks.
     Lord Chamberlain ... The official closest to the Dalai Lama.  A
           monk.
     Norbu Thundrup ... A sweeper who works at the Potala.
     The Yigstang and the Tsitang ... The Tibetan Government.  Monks
           and laymen.
     Taktra Rinpoche ... The Regent who replaced Reting Rinpoche.
           A monk.
     Ling Rinpoche ... A senior tutor, a monk.
     Kashag ... The Dalai Lama's personal cabinet of advisors.
     Nechung Oracle ... The monk medium for the deity, Droje Drakden.
     Lukhangwa and Lobsang Tashi ... The Prime Ministers
     Muslim Man, Tibetan Woman, Noble Boy ... People the Dalai Lama
           meets on his way to Yadung.
     General Chiang Chin-wu ... First representative of Communist
           China sent to Tibet.
     Mao Tse Tung ... Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party.
     Khamba Leaders ... Leaders of the Tibetan Resistance Movement.
     Ghurka Soldiers ... Indians who make up the welcoming party for
           the Dalai Lama.







     The Himalayas.

     A still photograph, a portrait, of a mountain;  the north
     face of Chomolungma - a peak also known as Mount Everest -
     twenty-nine thousand feet high.

     We hear a very young boy speak.

<b>                                      BOY (VO)
</b>                            Mama, my story.

     A woman speaks:

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            Again?

<b>                                      BOY (VO)
</b>                            Tell me.

     Portrait of a mountain - Khangbochen - craggy peaks covered
     with snow, twenty-four thousand feet high.

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            Your father had been very ill,
                            We thought he would die, and some
                            animals had died.

<b>                                      BOY (VO)
</b>                            Cow.

     Portrait of a mountain - Shishapangma - twenty-six thousand
     feet high.

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            And a yak.  And chickens.  And we
                            had four years of bad crops, all
                            the farmers did.

     Portrait of a mountain - Anye Machin II - twenty thousand
     feet high and slightly obscured by clouds.

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            In the night, I knew you were coming.

     Now, the foothills.  The still photograph of this barren
     mountain range comes to life as we see something moving.

     It is a small caravan - traveling this narrow mountain pass.

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            At dawn, you were born.

     CLOSER on this caravan.  We can make out eight or ten men,
     walking, and on horseback, dressed in heavy, brocade coats,
     and large woolen hats, black braids trailing down their
     backs.  A yellow palanquin is carried by four large monks,
     wearing maroon robes.

     The caravan reaches the top of the mountain pass and turns -
     a sudden shift in direction - a switchback.  The travelers
     head downhill.

<b>                                      BOY (VO)
</b>                            Tell me.

     Now, we see the mens's destination.  A lake.  An incredibly
     blue, circular lake, sunk between snow-dusted mountains.  It
     is LHAMO I' LATSO - "the Oracle Lake" - and it shimmers in
     the sunlight.

     As the lake comes into view, a young man pushes back the
     curtain of the yellow palanquin and peers down at it.

     The man is dressed in royal robes.  He is young, twenty four
     years old.  His name is RETING RINPOCHE.  He is the Regent
     of Tibet.

     The color of the lake changes - from brilliant turquoise, to
     a deep, murky, unfathomable darkness.

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            You were a beautiful baby.
                            So calm.
<b>         
</b><b>                                      BOY (VO)
</b>                            No cried?

     The woman laughs.

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            Maybe, just a little.

     The palanquin is set down on a flat rock overlooking the
     lake.  The water's color changes again, to a deep purple,
     then blue again, then red, then indigo.

<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            And that day, your father
                            got better.  He named you Lhamo.
                            "The Protector."

<b>                                      BOY (VO)
</b>                            I know.

     Silence.

     The noblemen and monks surround Reting as he steps out of
     the palanquin.

     One man stands out here, a monk, a high lama in fact, with a
     kind face and fantastic, mesmerizing eyes.  He is the LAMA
<b>     OF SERA.
</b>
<b>                                      WOMAN (VO)
</b>                            Go to sleep, Lhamo.

     Reting stares at the lake.

     The water turns a light grey, and an image appears - obscure
     at first, then becoming more solid.  A vision.

     He sees a house - a small, stone, one-story, u-shaped house.

     The house has a flat, tile roof and an unusual, wooden rain
     gutter, with windows outlined in black and a prayer flag in
     the courtyard.  A spotted dog is in front of the house,
     barking, though we cannot hear him.  The vision becomes
     completely clear, for an instant - clear enough to see the
     face of a young boy at the window.

     CLOSE on Reting Rinpoche.  Looking.  Searching.

     Cut to:  a portrait of a mountain:  Kyeri - a majestic,
     glacier mountain - the "house mountain" of the village of
     Takster, Amdo Province, North Eastern Tibet.

     Sound returns as the wind whistles around this jagged,
     mountain peak and then the view moves down, below the tree
     line, and into the rhododendron forest and the farmlands,
     until it comes to rest on a small, stone, u-shaped house.  A
     house caught in the dawn's mist.

     CLOSE on the face of a sleeping child:  a boy, LHAMO
     DHONDRUP, age two and one-half years.  He is dreaming.  He
     is about to wake up.

     Today, his life will change.

     We stay on the boy's face until, slowly, his eyes open -
     beautiful, dark, eyes.

<b>     INT.  TIBETAN PEASANT HOME, KITCHEN   DAWN (1937)
</b>
     The MOTHER walks past the boy, her woolen skirt swaying in
     the rosy light.  A seven year-old brother - LOBSANG SAMTEN -
     and a teenage sister - TSERING DOLMA - share Lhamo's kitchen
     mattress.  Lhamo looks at them, and then he turns to see the
     heavy felt boots of his FATHER, as the man walks through the
     room and out the door.  Lhamo finds the kind face of his
     MOTHER.  She is looking at him.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAWN
</b>
     The boy walks across the stone courtyard as we hear the
     sounds of this country morning:  the snorting of horses,
     clucking of hens, a command from the Father as the man feeds
     the animals.

     The boy scratches, he pees.  He sees his Mother on the roof.
     She is a silhouette against the dawn, as she feeds cedar and
     yak chips into the incense burner - sending white, curly
     smoke up, to circle the prayer flag and its clusters of
     printed mantras.

     We pull back as the spotted dog begins to bark.

     Lhamo's house is the house in the vision.

<b>     INT.  KITCHEN  MORNING
</b>
     It is a good day.  There is cheese for breakfast.

     Lhamo's Father sits on a cushion at the head of a low table.
     Fresh bread appears, yogurt, roasted barley (tsampa).

     Lhamo pushes at his Father.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Me.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            No.  This must stop.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Me.  Here.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            I am the father.  You sit there.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Me here.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            What is the harm?

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            He will grow up all wrong.
                            Only you can serve him,
                            only you can wash his bowl.
                            Too tidy, everything just so.
                            He must know his place.

<b>                                      LOBSANG SAMTEN
</b>                            He thinks he is king here.
                            No respect.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            What is the harm?

     The Father reluctantly gets up and gives his seat to Lhamo.
     Lhamo settles and waits for his Mother to hand him his bowl
     of tsampa.  He bestows a most beautiful smile on his family.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAY
</b>
     The Father is leaving the yard with a short string of horses
     when there is a sudden commotion.

     The CHINESE GOVERNOR is passing through this little village.

     He is a ferocious looking man, dressed in ornate brocade,
     his horse eguipped with tack that looks like armor.  He is
     surrounded by a dozen Chinese soldiers, all on huge horses,
     ruling the road, kicking up mud.

     Lhamo's Father stops.  He holds still.  He looks to the
     house.

     The Mother is holding the children against her in the
     doorway.  Quiet.  Watching.

     The Governor and his entourage move on.  When they are out
     of sight, Lhamo's Father makes his departure.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAY
</b>
     Lhamo straddles the window sill, slapping his bottom as if
     he were a horse, shouting:

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            I go away.
                            Look, mama, I go away.
                            Far, far, far.

     His Mother is making bread in the kitchen.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Oh, no.  Where will he go?

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Far, far away.

<b>     INT.  KITCHEN  DUSK
</b>
     Lhamo is playing a game with pebbles on the raised, wooden
     platform in the kitchen.  The fire is lit.  He is alone.

     The dog begins to bark.

<b>                                      MOTHER (OC)
</b>                            Good day.

<b>                                      MAN (OC)
</b>                            Good day.

<b>                                      MOTHER (OC)
</b>                            Please, come in, so cold.

<b>                                      MAN (OC)
</b>                            We are traveling to Lhasa.  May
                            we...?

<b>                                      MOTHER (OC)
</b>                            Of course, please, this way.
                            Your servant may use the kitchen.

<b>                                      MAN (OC)
</b>                            Thank you.

     A middle-aged man, the SERVANT, wearing heavy, ragged
     clothes and wrapped boots, enters the kitchen.

     Lhamo slides over so that the man can sit on the platform
     beside him.  The man picks up a few pebbles and drops them -
     he knows the game.

     We recognize this servant.  His name is KEUSTANG RINPOCHE.
     He is one of the monks we saw at the Oracle lake, the one
     with the mesmerizing eyes.  Keustang Rinpoche is the Lama of
     Sera Monastery.

     Lhamo sees a dark brown rosary around the Servant's neck and
     immediately pulls at the string of beads.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Mine.

     The Servant takes the rosary off and gives it to the boy.
     Lhamo hangs the string of beads around his own neck.  The
     Servant makes a move to take back the rosary, but Lhamo
     resists.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Mine.

<b>                                      SERVANT
</b>                            Mine.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Please.

<b>                                      SERVANT
</b>                            I will give it to, if you can
                            tell me who I am.

     Lhamo looks up, into the man's piercing, black eyes.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            The Lama of Sera.
                            You come.

     The Mother enters and immediately sees the rosary around her
     son's neck.  She gives it back to the Servant.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Lhamo, no.

     Lhamo goes back to his game.  The Mother hands the tired man
     a slice of bread and a steaming cup of tea.  The man's
     hands are shaking.  He cannot look the woman in the eye.

<b>                                      SERVANT
</b>                            Thank you.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAWN
</b>
     The travelers make their departure at dawn.

     As the party reaches the gate, Lhamo runs from the house,
     crying:

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Wait!  No!

     The men stop.  Lhamo runs to the Servant.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Me, too.  Me go, too.
                            Lhasa!

     Lhamo is in tears.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            No, no, no.  Lhasa!
                            He always says he will travel
                            far away.  He always wants to go.

<b>                                      SERVANT
</b>                            We cannot, young master.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            You come back?

     A pause.

<b>                                      SERVANT
</b>                            We will.

     The travelers head down the road.

     Mother and child return to their home, the Mother carrying
     the boy on her hip as he swings himself around to take a
     last look at the strangers.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAWN
</b>
     The Father readies a pack train of horses.  Lobsang and
     Lhamo pull on the cinche straps.

<b>     EXT.  FARMLAND  DAY
</b>
     The Mother plows with a heavy yoke attached to a large yak.
     Lobsang Samten and Tsering Dolma help their mother.  Lhamo
     sleeps under an umbrella.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAY
</b>
     Lobsang and Lhamo running, carrying a bowl of eggs.

<b>     INT.  KITCHEN  NIGHT
</b>
     Lobsang is wrapped in maroon wool, trying to hold still as
     his Mother pins and stitches.  Lhamo sits, sipping tea,
     watching, woefully.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Say, Kumbum Monastery.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            Kumbum. It is not far away.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            It is not far at all, and
                            it is a beautiful place.
                            And your big brother is abbott
                            there. You will not be alone.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            I will be very smart.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            You will be fine.
                            You will be a fine monk.

<b>     INT.  ALTAR ROOM  DAWN
</b>
     Lobsang pours water from one small, copper bowl into six
     others, seven in all, placed on an altar before a statue of
     Buddha.  As the rest of the family watches, the Mother
     lights the butter lamps, whispering:

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Om mani padme hum.
                            Om mani padme hum.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAY
</b>
     Lobsang is perched on the back of a horse - in front of his
     Father.  The two leave home, goodbyes having already been
     said.  Mother, sister and little brother remain behind.

<b>     EXT.  PARENT'S ROOM  NIGHT
</b>
     Mother lies down with Lhamo, holding him.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Your father had been very sick.
                            He had been sick from the time
                            you began growing in me.
                            We thought he would die.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Cow.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Yes.  A cow had died.
                            One night, you stopped all
                            your moving, and I said to your
                            sister, "His time has come."

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Me.  First break of day.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            At dawn, you were born. One eye was
                            closed, and your sister opened it
                            with her thumb.  We gave you the
                            sweet drink.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            I pooped.

     His Mother laughs.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            You did.  We washed you and wrapped
                            you in sheepskin and took you to your
                            father.  That day he father got
                            better

                            And that day, a pair of crows came to
                            nest in our roof.  I just remembered.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            I miss my brother.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            I miss him too.
<b>         
</b>     CLOSE on the Mother as she holds Lhamo, now her only son at
     home.

     A view of Kyeri mountain turning from a pre-dawn purple to
     light pink in the sunlight.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD  DAWN
</b>
     The multi-colored prayer flags flap in the wind as the cock
     crows and the animals come awake.  Father exits the house
     and begins his day.

<b>     EXT.  SIDE OF THE HOUSE  DAY
</b>
     Lhamo is watching two bugs fighting when he hears the dog
     bark.  He climbs the low, stone wall and looks out at the
     road.

     Six TRAVELERS approach.  Four of the men are dressed as
     nobility, wearing red and gold silk.  Two men are monks.

     The Mother meets the men in the courtyard. A monk steps
     forward.  He bows.

<b>                                      LAMA
</b>                            I am the Lama of Sera.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Sera Monastery?  From Lhasa?

<b>                                      LAMA
</b>                            Yes.  We have business here.

     Lhamo jumps off the wall.  He carefully lifts the smaller
     beetle from the path of the larger beetle.  He places the
     rescued bug safely in a clump of grass.

<b>     INT. PARENT'S ROOM  DAY
</b>
     CLOSE on the faces of the six men.

     CLOSE on the small face of Lhamo as he looks down at the
     bed.

     Lying on a piece of yellow silk are many objects.  There are
     three of each type of object:  three walking sticks, three
     drums, three silver pens, three eating bowls, three bells,
     three rosaries, three pairs of spectacles.

     The Lama of Sera - Keustang Rinpoche - hands Lhamo the
     rosary he had so coveted when the man first visited.

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            This is yours, you say.
                            What else belongs to you?

     Lhamo considers the request, then climbs onto the bed to
     study the objects.  The drum and the bell he chooses
     quickly.

     Keustang Rinpoche watches the boy gather the items.  He
     looks at the yellow silk and the boy's small, fine hands.
     He dares not look directly at the boy.

     Lhamo picks up one walking stick - a lovely, bronze-handled
     one.  He swings it around, but he finally rejects it in
     favor of a plain, iron-handled stick.  He makes his own pile
     of these things, then looks at the Lama of Sera.

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            Yes, those are yours.

     Keustang Rinpoche takes the boy's hands in his own.  He
     turns them over, examines them.

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            With permission?

     The Lama carefully pulls back the boy's overalls.  There is
     a little birthmark, like a conch shell, on his shoulder.

     Keustang Rinpoche pulls up the boy's pants legs.  There is a
     funny skin marking on the legs, like tiger stripes.

     The Lama rearranges the boy's clothing, then one more time,
     takes the beautiful, little hands in his own and whispers:

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            "Kundun"

     He says to the others, in a soft, secretive voice:

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            He is the Presence.

     In the background, by an open curtain, we see Lhamo's
     Mother.

     She says, softly:

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            My oldest boy is an incarnation.

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            So is your youngest.

     Keustang releases the boy's hands and brings his own closed
     palms up to his forehead.

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            I wish you long life.

     The Mother begins to cry.

<b>     INT.  ALTAR ROOM  DAY
</b>
     Little Lhamo, now dressed in yellow, fills the copper water
     bowls with difficulty.

     His parents stand beside him.  They share one, frightened
     curious look.

     CLOSE on the statue of Buddha.  It is an image of Chenrezig,
     the Buddha of Compassion.  He has eleven heads and four,
     outstretched arms.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  DAY
</b>
     Lhamo sits in the saddle in front of his Mother.  His Father
     and Sister ride beside them, through an incredible, empty,
     Tibetan landscape.  A Monk rides lead.

<b>     EXT.  EST. SHOT / KUMBUM MONASTERY  DAY
</b>
     Turquoise-roof, golden-pagoda, a beautiful, white-washed
     monastery built against a terraced, green hillside of Amdo.

<b>     INT.  PRIVATE ROOM, MONASTERY  DAY
</b>
     Mother pats her son Lhamo's unruly hair and makes a soft,
     comforting sound.  Lobsang is there beside his brother.
     Lobsang is already dressed as a tiny monk - in a maroon
     robe, with short, clipped hair  An older brother, TAKSTER,
     age 17, a lama, is there.

     The Mother lies:

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            I will be back in a few days.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            How many?

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Two.

     Lhamo holds up two fingers.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            This many?

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Yes, yes.  Your brothers
                            are here.

     Takster moves closer.  She places the sad youngster in
     Takster's arms.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            One more kiss.

     Lhamo kisses her, as does Lobsang and even Takster falls
     into her arms for a moment.  Then, she turns and goes,
     quickly.

     A Monk appears.  He produces a concertina and begins to play
     for the little boy.

     But, Lhamo begins to cry, through the music, through the
     hugs of his brothers.  As a result of Lhamo's tears, Lobsang
     begins to cry.  Takster holds them both.  The music
     continues. The older, wiser, Takster begins to cry, too.
     The three brothers hold one another.  Three brothers, three
     monks, crying for their mother.  The music continues,
     echoing in this stone monastery.

     The young "Kundun" is gently rocked by his older brother.

     He begins to fall asleep.

<b>     DREAM SEQUENCE
</b>
     The sound of the concertina becomes chanting and we see row
     after row of monks, in a temple, their voices mingling in
     the empty room.

     View of a courtyard, with young novices, reciting.  Lobsang
     is among them.

<b>                                      BOYS'S VOICES (VO)
</b>                            "May I be the doctor and
                            the medicine,
                            And may I be the nurse,
                            For all sick beings in the world,
                            until everyone is healed."

     A TEACHER, a very stern-looking monk, carrying a thick, flat
     board, menacingly, behind his back, walks among the
     students.

     A golden head of a Buddha - a huge head - appears to be
     bursting through an archway at the end of a dark hallway.

     The Chinese Governor stands, like a giant, against the blue
     sky.  Omnipotent.  Frightening.

<b>                                      CHINESE GOVERNOR
</b>                            I want him accompanied by my
                            Chinese soldiers.

     Keustang Rinpoche, also a head against blue sky, argues:

<b>                                      KEUSTANG RINPOCHE
</b>                            This is Tibet. We are not
                            under your authority.

     CLOSE on the Chinese Governor.

<b>                                      CHINESE GOVERNOR
</b>                            I want one hundred thousand
                            Chinese dollars, if you want the
                            boy.

     CLOSE on Keustang Rinpoche.  Slowly, he nods.

     An image of the Father and the Mother, standing in their
     courtyard, staring at the departing search party.

     The Mother asks over and over:

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            But why?  Who is Lhamo?
                            Who do they say he is?

     Her husband does not know.

     View of the Mother, on the roof, feeding cedar and yak chips
     into the incense burner.  We hear:

                                      BOYS (reciting)
                            "May I be protector for those
                            without one."

<b>     DRAAM SEQUENCE ENDS
</b>
     Lhamo wakes up.  He is in a brilliant, green room.

<b>     INT. STUDY ROOM, KUMBUM MONASTERY  DAY
</b>
     The stern-looking Teacher from his dream is there, reading
     scripture, reciting:

<b>                                      TEACHER
</b>                            "May I be a bridge, a boat, a ship
                            For all who wish to cross the water."

     Lhamo looks down at the complicated words.

<b>                                      TEACHER
</b>                            Can you recite?

     The boy just waits, sad, lonely.

     The Teacher offers Lhamo an apricot.  Lhamo takes the fruit.
     The Monk pats the boy's head, gently, and Lhamo takes
     shelter in the kind man's massive robes.  The view becomes
     sunlight through deep, maroon wool.

<b>     INT. DRELJAM  DAY
</b>
     thamo and Lobsang  sit inside a dreljam" - a rough
     palanquin, which is attached to two poles and carried
     between two mules.  The vehicle rises and falls, pitches and
     twists as it is carried along the roadless, Tibetan plains.

     Lhamo reaches forward and pulls back a curtain.

<b>     EXT.  TIBETAN PLATEAU  DAY
</b>
     The boy is traveling with a caravan.  It is not, in fact, an
     enormous caravan, maybe fifty people, including:  Lhamo's
     family, members of the search party, monks, Muslim traders.

     The dreljam DRIVER looks over at Lhamo and signals that the
     boy should close the curtain.

     Lhamo does so, only to lean across his brother to look out
     the other side of his tiny carriage.

     The other side opens to a view of the great, empty land.  A
     herd of deer grazes beside the travelers.  Mountains rise in
     the distance.  A flock of geese flies overhead.

     Lhamo closes the curtain.

<b>     INT. DRELJAM  DAY
</b>
     Lhamo elbows his brother.  Lobsang elbows him back.  The two
     begin to squabble.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            You have all the room.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            Don't be a baby, move over.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            You move.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            You!  You think you are so
                            big!

     They hit and pinch until finally the movement of the
     carriage stops.  The Driver reaches in through the open
     curtains and separates the boys, each to his own side of the
     dreljam.

     Inside his tiny carriage, young Lhamo now sits quiet and
     composed.

<b>     EXT.  CAMPSITE  NIGHT
</b>
     A cluster of fantastic, Tibetan tents are set up; white
     cotton tents, with sharp corners, peaked ceilings and
     elaborate, appliqued designs.  Campfires glow, animals bed
     down, stars shine overhead.

<b>     INT.  TIBETAN TENT  NIGHT
</b>
     CLOSE on a group of ancient, stern-faced MONKS.

     CLOSE on the baby-faced, Lhamo Dhondrup.

     One Monk pulls a huge pair of scissors from his robes.

     Lhamo makes a dive for the tent's door.

<b>     EXT. TENT  NIGHT
</b>
     Standing outside the tent is a BODYGUARD - a huge, burly
     man, wearing monk's robes.  He turns to the boy.  In one
     hand he holds a big stick.  His face is distorted and
     deformed by a large tumor under one eye.  It is a
     frightening sight.  He looks like a monster to the child.

     Lhamo jumps back inside the tent.  The Bodyguard closes the
     appliqued flap.

<b>     INT.  DRELJAM  DAY
</b>
     Lhamo has had a haircut.  His Mother walks beside the
     carriage, holding his hand.

<b>                                      LHAMO
</b>                            Who am I?

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            We do not know.

<b>     EXT. PLAINS OF TIBET  NIGHT
</b>
     By candlelight, Lhamo is transferred from the rugged, simple
     carriage, to one of exquisite, yellow silk.

<b>     INT. PALANQUIN  JUST BEFORE DAWN
</b>
     Lhamo peeks out of the silk curtain as he hears the arrival
     of many horses, many men.  SOLDIERS - hundreds of Tibetan
     soldiers - surround the palanquin.

<b>     EXT.  PLAINS, OUTSIDE LHASA  DAWN
</b>
     The yellow palanquin is carried across a human border of
     Tibetan noblemen.  These fantastic-looking men and women
     part, and drop to the ground in prostration, as the
     palanquin moves through their welcoming committee.

<b>     INT. PEACOCK TENT  DAWN
</b>
     Lhamo walks along a long, patterned carpet, looking up, at
     this lofty tent's stunning, blue silk, ceiling.

     He is led to a tall, wooden throne, and he is lifted, and
     then he climbs to the top.  Lhamo settles in a cross-legged
     position on the brocade cushion.

     He looks down.

     Hundred of monks, abbots, noblemen, Nepalese, Bhutanese,
     Chinese, even a red-headed Englishman - they all bow to
     Lhamo.

     Reting Rinpoche, the young Regent of Tibet, the man who saw
     this boy's face in his vision, stands below the throne.  He
     addresses the crowd:

<b>                                      RETING RINPOCHE
</b>                            Chenrezi, the Buddha of compassion.
                            The Wish Fulfilling Jewel.
                            The Fourteenth Dalai Lama.

     And the Regent turns, hikes up his gorgeous robes, and
     prostrates before the child.

<b>                                      RETING RINPOCHE
</b>                            Long life.

     In the crowd stand Lhamo's Mother and Father and Lobsang
     Samten.

     On their faces, we must see that they did not realize who
     their son, their brother, was believed to be.

     First the Mother, and then the Father, bow in front of their
     youngest child.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Long life.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            Long life.

     Finally, Lobsang.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            Long life, Lhamo.

     We hear the sound of a great, Tibetan horn.

     We hear peels of childish laughter.

<b>     INT.  THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     Lobsang and Lhamo skid, slide, skate down the endless,
     slippery hallways of this huge, labyrinthine monastery.

     Three Monks scurry behind the boys, trying to keep up,
     trying to keep the young incarnate from slipping out of
     their sight.

     They shout, in loud stage whispers:

<b>                                      MONKS
</b>                            Kundun!  Kundun!

     The monks are no match for the little boys, who are quickly
     out of sight.

<b>     INT. DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     Reting Rinpoche sits cross-legged on the floor of this
     brightly-painted, red room.

     Across from him sits Lhamo, dressed in fine, yellow silk.

     These are simple rooms, decorated with statues, deity
     scrolls and mandalas, an altar to Buddha.  Behind a glass
     case are toys, mixed in with the Buddhist artifacts:  dolls,
     puppets, balls, blocks, trains.

     Reting Rinpoche is speaking.

<b>                                      RETING RINPOCHE
</b>                            Centuries ago, a young boy was
                            born.  His name was Gedundrub.
                            The night of his birth, robbers
                            came to his home and his family
                            fled hiding the baby in a cattle
                            pen. When they returned the next
                            day, the baby was safe. They found
                            him guarded by a pair of black crows.

                            He was the first Dalai Lama.

                            The Living Buddha of Compassion.

                            Now, you have chosen to come back to
                            this life once again.

     Reting blows his nose.

<b>                                      RETING RINPOCHE
</b>                            We name you Tenzin Gyatso.

     CLOSE on Lhamo - Tenzin Gyatso.

<b>                                      RETING RINPOCHE
</b>                            Your job is simple.
                            You are to love all living things.
                            Just love them.  Care for them.
                            Have compassion for them.

                            "As long as any living thing draws
                            breath, wherever he shall be, there
                            in compassion, shall the Buddha
                            appear, incarnate."

     At the curtain behind Lhamo, we notice the curly-toed shoes
     of a monk, a man who must be standing in the next room.

<b>     INT. DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DAY
</b>
     In the room immediately adjacent to this bedroom, we now see
     the three Monks who chased the young boy down the slippery
     halls.

     They are the Dalai Lama's personal attendants - the MASTER
     OF THE RITUAL, the MASTER OF ThE KITCHEN, and the MASTER OF
     THE ROBE.  (It is the Master of the Kitchen who stands
     directly behind the curtain.)

     The LORD CHAMBERLAIN is also there.  He is a monk.  A tall,
     angular man, with almost nordic features:  large, round
     eyes, a yellowish mustache, sharp nose.

     All of these men will become quite familiar to us, as will
     the man standing, listening, behind the attendants.

     He is a sweeper, a man named NORBU THUNDRUP, age thirty.  He
     is tall, and gangly, with a wispy beard and a pock-marked
     face.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOM  DAY
</b>
<b>                                      RETING RINPOCHE
</b>                            You will be the leader of
                            the Tibetan people when you come of
                            age.  Until that time, I will be
                            your teacher, and as your Regent,
                            I will rule in your name.

                            I will tell your Lord
                            Chamberlain you are ready to
                            see him.

<b>     INT.  ADJACENT ROOM  DAY
</b>
     The Regent walks through this room on his way out.
     A passing look from Norbu lets us know that Reting
     Rinpoche is not well-liked.

<b>                                      RETING RINPOCHE
</b>                            He will see you now.

     The Lord Chamberlain goes to meet with the Dalai Lama.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOM  DAY
</b>
     The Lord Chamberlain bows to the boy and then unpacks his
     parcel.

     He has a rolled, parchment document.
     He has a beautiful, carved, wooden box.

     The Lord Chamberlain points to the mural on the wall behind
     the boy.  It is an elaborate, story-painting.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Fifth Dalai Lama.

     The boy looks.

     The Lord Chamberlain points to a golden statue of a round
     man in a peaked hat.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBBERLAIN
</b>                            Seventh Dalai Lama.

     Tenzin Gyatso nods.

     The Lord Chamberlain lifts a framed photograph of a bald,
     charismatic man, with razor sharp eyebrows, pictured sitting
     on a throne.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Thirteenth Dalai Lama.

     The boy looks at the photo.

     The Lord Chamberlain places the state seal in the young
     boy's hands and indicates that the boy should bring the
     heavy instrument down hard on the parchment.

     The boy does.  The Lord Chamberlain scribbles a little
     something on a tab of attached paper, then bows to the boy.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Fourteenth Dalai Lama.

<b>     VIEW FROM A HIGH WINDOW
</b>
     Outside, up a country path, young herders lead their cattle
     in from the grazing fields.  We can hear the boys singing -
     a Tibetan street song.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (OC)
</b>                            I am the good one. You be bad.
                            The bad man.

<b>     INT. DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOM  DUSK
</b>
     The view comes in the window and reveals the young Dalai
     Lama, sitting on the floor with Norbu Thundrup, the sweeper.
     Tenzin Gyatso has arranged a battlefield of soldiers -
     little men, made of colored-dough.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            My name is Norbu,
                            Holiness.  I will be good,
                            you be bad.

     Tenzin Gyatso is ferocious in his strategy, taking Norbu's
     men.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I'm on a big mountain
                            and hitting at the bad men.
                            And after the game, we're going
                            to trade.  You just stay
                            over there, no, there!, Norbu,
                            and I will shoot at you.
                            I want your land.  I take it.
                            I am stronger.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            I am braver.

     Norbu Thundrup plays like a child.  It is a fight to the
     finish.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I have more men.

                                      NORBU ThUNDRUP
                            I have smarter men.

     Tenzin Gyatso has lost;  he dissolves into tears.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Today you lose.  Tomorrow you
                            may win.

     Norbu snaps his fingers.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Things change, Kundun.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Why is your beard so funny?
                            Let me touch this.

     Tenzin touches the soft, bald, chin of Norbu.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Soft.

     And then, Tenzin Gyatso tries to snap his fingers.  He
     cannot.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DUSK
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso stands at the window, watching, listening.
     His hands knead the colored dough into balls, ready to
     create the next army, the future battleground, as he
     recites, softly:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "As long as all living draw
                            breaths, there Buddha is."

     Norbu Thundrup smiles as he polishes the floor, clearing it
     of tsampa dough.

<b>     INT.  GREAT HALL, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     The Great Hall in the Potala is the seat of Tibetan
     Government.

     These palace walls are hung with beautiful, old thangkas
     (silk embroideries or paintings),  depicting the life of
     Buddha.

     Inside the hall sits the acting government:  the YIGSTANG
     and the TSITANG - four monks, four laymen - all dressed in
     their appropriate simplicity and elaborateness.  These men
     sit in two rows, facing one another.  The senior monk and
     the senior layman sit a bit forward. They are the speakers.

     The senior LAYMAN is on his knees, speaking.

<b>                                      LAYMAN
</b>                            I believe that the Regent is asking
                            for too high a reward for his part in
                            finding the Dalai Lama.  Too much
                            money, too much land.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso peeks through a door at the great assembly.

     The Lord Chamberlian stands behind him.

<b>     INT. GREAT HALL  DAY
</b>
     The Layman continues.

<b>                                      LAYMAN
</b>                            Our treasuries are empty.  Our army
                            is depleted.  He would have us pull
                            the hair from our noses.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama is confused, but continues listening.

<b>     INT.  GREAT HALL  DAY
</b>
     The Layman returns to his cross-legged position.

     The senior MONK speaks.

<b>                                      MONK
</b>                            We note this.  Now, the Chinese.

     There is audible expression of tension.

<b>                                      MONK
</b>                            The Allies wish to build a supply-
                            road from India, crossing Tibet, as
                            part of their war effort.  The road
                            would lead directly to China.

     The Layman gets to his knees.

<b>                                      LAYMAN
</b>                            We cannot allow it.
                            Right now, we have a only a small
                            Chinese mission in Lhasa, the first
                            since the Thirteenth Dalai Lama
                            threw them out in 1912.
                            The road would increase the size of
                            that mission. The Chinese would
                            try to control our trade, as they did
                            once before, control our contact
                            with the outside world.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  DAY
</b>
     The Lord Chamberlain touches the boy's shoulder and Tenzin
     Gyatso leaves his hiding place, as the speaker's voice fades
     away.

     As the two walk down the hallway, Tenzin Gyatso spots an
     unusual wooden door.  He lets the Lord Chamberlain get a
     little bit ahead of him, and then the boy tries the door.
     It is heavy.  It almost opens.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  LATER, DUSK
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso and his brother Lobsang are pulling at the
     heavy door.  Behind them, in the distance, we hear:

<b>                                      MONKS (OC)
</b>                            Kundun!  Kundun!

     The door opens.  The boys disappear inside.

<b>     INT.  STORAGE ROOM  DUSK
</b>
     A treasure awaits them.

     It looks like Aladdin's cave - full of odd, European items.

     There are glittering music boxes, a porcelain sink, a gilded
     mirror, a lacquered rocking horse.  There are hats,
     umbrellas and even a pair of lace-up, cordovan shoes.
     Tenzin Gyatso lifts a reel of film.  There are piles of
     magazines and books.  There is a stack of tires in the back
     corner.  The boys uncover a train set and a good collection
     of lead soldiers.  The Dalai Lama pockets a gold watch.

     Just as the monks find their young charges and we hear them
     at the door, Tenzin sees something truly spectacular.  It is
     a telescope.

     The monks enter the room as the young Dalai Lama reaches for
     this miracle.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What is it?

<b>                                      THE ATTENDANTS
</b>                            Ah, it is a telescope, Holiness.
                            With this you can see a long way.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            And, is it mine?

<b>                                      ATTENDANT
</b>                            These are all gifts sent to
                            your predecessors.

<b>                                      LOBSANG SAMTEN
</b>                            Yes!  Then it is yours!

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I need it.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     We are in the adjacent room, listening, as Norbu Thundrup
     tells a bedtime story.

     Golden butter lamps burn before a statue of Buddha.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP (OC)
</b>                            One night, not too long
                            ago, an old monk saw a woman in that
                            very same hallway where you ran away.

<b>     INT.  BEDROOM  NIGHT
</b>
     The boy is in bed.  The Sweeper finishes-off his story as
     the boy wiggles deeper under the covers.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            She carried a basket in
                            her arms, a big, heavy basket, and
                            the old monk cautiously approached.
                            She opened her basket and showed what
                            she had.  Heads.  Human heads. Only
                            the heads.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Is that true or pretend?

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            It is a story, you decide.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Pretend.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            As you say.

     The Sweeper tucks the boy in as the Master of the Robe
     finishes his nightly preparations and with a pat and a
     smile, the two men leave the room.

     A mouse steals a bit of tsampa from the offerings placed on
     the altar before the Buddha.

     Tenzin Gyatso peeks out from under his covers and looks to
     see if those curly-toed shoes are visible under the
     partition.  They are.  The Master of the Kitchen is still
     near.

     Tenzin Gyatso pulls the golden pocket watch from under the
     covers.  He pries and digs at the back of the watch until he
     succeeds in popping it open, revealing its miraculous
     insides.

     Finally, Tenzin Gyatso's eyelids grow heavy.  The camera
     passes over his face, as his eyes close.

     The boy begins to speak, mumble, as he falls asleep:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "I be an island for those who
                            seek one, a lamp for light."

     We find two scrolls;  the first is PENDEN LHAMO, the special
     protectress of the Dalai Lama.

     She rides her wild mule through a sea of blood - between
     rows of jagged mountains.  Pointed fingers and spreading
     toes, her hair gone crazy, her fangs revealed - the details
     are incredible.  A garland of freshly severed heads hangs
     around her body, snakes hold up her skirt, five skulls form
     ber crown.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (VO)
</b>                            "May I be a bed for all who wish
                            to rest,
                            and a slave for all who want a
                            slave."

     Beside her, on the second scroll is MAHAKALA.  He is the
     fierce representation of the Buddha of Compassion.  Crows
     fly in the clouds to the left of the terrifying, black, six-
     armed figure.

     A skull rosary is held in the upper right arm, a Trident is
     held in the left hand.  The deity wears a crown of five
     skulls.  He has three eyes.  He tramples an elephant.

     We might have been in a dream, as the camera finally moves
     back to find the peaceful1 protected face of the young Dalai
     Lama.  Asleep.

     The camera moves across the mural devoted to the story of
     the Fifth Dalai Lama.  It is a fantasy of green, with
     mountains and lakes and deities and monsters.

     We find the statue of Seventh Dalai Lama, sitting on his
     golden cushion, and we look, deep into the eyes of the
     Thirteenth Dalai Lama.  Fantastic.  Deeper.  Deeper.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "May I be wishing jewel, a magic
                            vase...

<b>     VIEW THROUGH AN EYEPIECE
</b>
     We see the Dalai Lama place his young eye at the viewfinder.

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE, POTALA  DAY
</b>
     Norbu Thundrup holds the boy steady.

     And, a wondorous view of Lhasa is presented.

     Vendors hawk their goods to elegant ladies, wearing
     turquoise jewelry and carrying silken parasols.  Animals are
     herded through town by young boys.  Children play and
     squabble.  A white wall is covered with cartoons, lampoons -
     political posters - picturing the Regent, perhaps, as a man
     holding too much power.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I want to go down there.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            You can only go with attendants and a
                            big ceremony.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I want to run down the street.
                            I want to buy a toy.  Eat from
                            the shops.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            You cannot.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I want to be a shepherd, taking those
                            goats and cows out to the hillside.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            But you are not a shepherd, you are
                            the Dalai Lama.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Maybe in the next life, the
                            world will not need a Dalai Lama.

                                      NORNU ThUNDRUP
                            I would not know.  Maybe.

     The view travels and we see a prison yard.  Shackled men
     share the yard with hairy, fat dogs.

     One man looks up and sees that the yard is under
     surveillance.  Of course the men all know that this terrace
     belongs to the boy Dalai Lama.

     As the boy watches, first one poor, ragged man, then another
     prostrates.

     Tenzin Gyatso pulls away from the telescope.  He waves to
     the prisoners.

<b>     EXT.  VALLEY OUTSIDE LHASA  DAY  (SUMMER, 1942)
</b>
     The boy rides in his palanquin of yellow silk.

     He is older now, seven or eight.  He peers through the
     curtain.

     A grand procession carries the Dalai Lama from the Potala to
     his summer residence, the Norbulinka.

     Monks walk in procession, as do members of the aristocracy,
     wearing their finest gowns and jewelry, holding their finest
     parasols, and soldiers, wearing ancient uniforms.  There are
     horses, banners and carriages.  Bodyguards carry the Dalai
     Lama's possessions - wrapped in yellow silk.  A band plays,
     "God Save the King."

     It is a magnificent display, and along the side of the road,
     Tibetans prostrate in the presence of the boy, not daring to
     look at him.

<b>     EXT.  THE NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     Establishing shot of this lovely park.

     Zt looks like a sweet, summer home compared to the looming
     expansiveness of the Potala.  It is filled with deer and
     antelope, peacocks and nesting birds.  An eccentric
     collection of trees grow here - some indigenous, some
     gifts - bearing flowers and fruit.  There are fish ponds and
     even a Kyichu river tributary nearby.

     We find the young Dalai Lama standing by this tributary
     daring to put one foot on a slippery, stepping stone.  An
     Attendant gently pulls him back.

     Beyond the river, a herder leads a small group of braying
     sheep towards town.  The boy watches.  He listens to the
     herder's song.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama drops bits of food into a fish pond.  He
     calls the huge, lazy fish to come eat.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Little ones first, only
                            little ones.

     The boy pushes the bigger ones away with a stick.

<b>     EXT.  YELLOW WALL, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso runs through an open gate in a mustard yellow
     wall (which separates the Dalai Lama's residence from the
     rest of the Norbulinka), and up the steps leading to a
     white, one story, home - his parent's.

<b>     INT.  PARENT'S HOME, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     A startling, blue room.

     The young Dalai Lama leans on the table where is Father sits
     eating pork rinds.

     Lobsang is there, practicing his writing on a chalk board.

     Tenzin Gyatso grabs one pork rind, then another, then a
     third.

<b>                                      LOBSANG SAMTEN
</b>                            The Dalai Lama is not supposed
                            to eat pork.  It is not good for
                            your brain.

     The Father uses the grease from the roasted lamb on the
     table to caress his long mustache and twirl each side into a
     point.

     The Dalai Lama takes another, and then, suddenly, the boy
     reaches up and for no reason, he pulls on his Father's
     mustache, obviously hurting the man.  The Father slaps the
     boy's hand, hard.

     The boy sits back, and begins drawing imaginary letters on
     the tabletop with his slapped hand.

     His Father reaches out and takes the hurt hand.  He pulls
     the boy into his arms.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            I am sorry, Lhamo.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            It is alright, Father.

     The Master of the Robe knocks at the door.  Father and son
     look up.

<b>                                      MASTER OF THE ROBE
</b>                            Kundun, you must come back now.

     The young boy sits straight up on his Father's lap and says,
     defiantly:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Go away.

     The surprised Monk backs away from the door.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            Not the way to talk to people.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Can I do anything I want?

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            No.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            But, I am in charge.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            Are you?  Of whom?

     The boy thinks.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Can I save the sheep from going
                            to the market?  So they don't die.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            You could buy them.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Do I have money?

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            What do you think?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Do you have money?

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            I do, now.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            And you have horses?
                            You love horses.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            I do, beautiful horses.
                            Thank you, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Will you buy the sheep for me?

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            Where will you keep them?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Here.  We'll collect them.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            I will buy them for you.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Can I free the prisoners?

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            Hmmm.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            You can't do anything real
                            until you are Dalai Lama.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I am him.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            Not until you are eighteen.

<b>                                      MOTHER (OC)
</b>                            You have escaped once more.

     The Mother has been in the doorway, listening.

     Tenzin Gyatso disengages from his Father's arms and goes to
     his Mother.  Tenzin reaches into one of her large, apron
     pockets and finds nothing.  Another.  Nothing.  He reaches
     into her sash and pulls out a special-looking sweet.  She
     takes the boy's hand and leads him from the house.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            Go study.  I get in trouble if you
                            do not study.

     Lobsang looks at his Father.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            I do.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            Sometimes you strike the goat,
                            to scare the sheep.

<b>                                      LOBSANG
</b>                            I am the goat.
                            He is a naughty sheep.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            He will not be ours much longer.

     CLOSE on the Father's face.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     The Mother walks the boy back to his residence, through the
     gate in the yellow wall.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            I have news.  The Regent
                            has resigned his post.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Is he a bad man?  Norbu says
                            he is "lavish" and "willful".
                            "How can he give you monk's vows
                            if he has not kept them
                            himself?"

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Well, some say.
                            It's not for you to worry about.
                            Another will be chosen.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            He was always nice to me.
                            He found me.  He saw me in
                            his dreams.

<b>     EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S RESIDENCE, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     They have reached the residence.  The boy's Mother caresses
     his little head.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            I turn you over again, today,
                            Lhamo.  One day, you will not
                            be able to come running to us.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            But you will always be here?

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Me?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You will always!

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            I have one more piece of
                            news.  A baby is coming.

     Tenzin grabs at her stomach and shrieks with laughter.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Oh, Mama!  Who will it be?

     The Mother places her hands on Tenzin Gyatso's.

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            Oh, no!  Who can it be?

     A string of old monks, stand, waiting for the naughty boy.

<b>     INT.  ENTRANCE HALL, DALAI LAMA'S RESIDENCE, NORBULINKA,
</b><b>           DAY
</b>
     The boy runs up the stairs and towards the old men, but he
     stops and looks at a small cabinet standing, unobtrusively,
     in a corner.  Tenzin Gyatso goes to the cabinet and rattles
     the locked door.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            My teeth!  My teeth are in here!

     A monk takes the boy by the hand and leads him down a
     hallway.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            My old teeth!

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, EVENING
</b>
     A bell and a dorge are laid out on a small table.  Tenzin
     Gyatso sits in front of this table.

     A monk is chanting in low, deep tones, in the background.

     The Dalai Lama's teacher, TAKTRA RINPOCHE, sits on the
     floor.  (Being the teacher, Taktra Rinpoche sits slightly
     higher than the Dalai Lama.)  Taktra is an older man, in his
     sixties.  He is stern, solid, no-nonsense.

     Taktra Rinpoche begins a prayer.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            "I take refuge in the three jewels,
                            The Buddha, the Dharma and
                            the Sangra."

     But the boy leaps up from his table and goes to Taktra and
     hangs around his neck, shouting:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You recite!
                            You recite!

     Taktra gives the boy just the slightest of looks.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            "I take refuge in the three jewels,
                            The Buddha, the Dharma and the
                            Sangra."

     Tenzin Gyatso releases the Lama and goes back to his own
     table.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            "Until I attain enlightenment."

     Taktra Rinpoche has a small table with the same hand
     instruments in front of him.  The teacher lifts the dorge,
     in a particular fashion, and rotates it.

     Tenzin Gyatso lifts his dorge.  Taktra's hands move to the
     boy's and show him the correct movement.  It is tried again.
     Now, the bell is lifted and rung.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I would like you to be my new
                            Regent.

     Taktra stops.  He nods to the boy.

     As the chanting continues, Taktra Rinpoche begins a weaving
     motion with his hands, delicate, beautiful, hypnotic.

     Tenzin Gyatso copies the elder.

     We are CLOSE on the boy's moving hands. The chanting becomes
     the voices of a hundred men, as we FADE OUT.

     FADE IN:  on the boy's hands, but they are a little larger -
     they are the hands of an eleven or twelve year-old boy - and
     the motion they carry out is on the verge of becoming
     extraordinarily beautiful.

<b>     INT.  DARK ROOM, POTALA  EVENING (1944)
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso sits alone, in a small, dark green, room.  He
     is older.  His robes have changed slightly, his manner is
     more refined, more dignified.

     He is on a retreat.

     There is a soft knock at the door.  The door is opened and
     food is placed inside the small room by bodiless hands.
     Tenzin Gyatso collects his food.  He sips his tea and eats
     his tsampa, while reading from a long, narrow stack of
     scriptures.  Thangkas of MILERAPA - the great Tibetan poet
     and teacher - hang on the walls.

     We notice the curly-toed shoes of the Master of the Kitchen,
     just visible beneath the wooden door.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD, THE POTALA  NIGHT
</b>
     The boy walks alone, moving to the rhythm of a memorization.
     His breath consolidates in the cold night air.  The sky is
     brilliant with stars.

                                      TENZIN GYATSO (reciting)
                            "As long as any living thing draws
                            breath, wherever he shall be, there,
                            in compassion, shall the Buddha
                            appear, incarnate."

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     School is in session.

     LING RINPOCHE is teaching.  Ling is a young, shy, brilliant
     monk, with a very round face.  He is now senior tutor.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            The Four Noble Truths.

     Tenzin Gyatso, sitting cross legged on a cushion, responds.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            The Four Noble Truths, as
                            taught by the Lord
                            Sakyamuni Buddha are:
                            The Truth of Suffering
                            The Truth of the Cause of
                            Suffering, The Truth of the
                            Cessation of Suffering,
                            the Truth of the Way which
                            leads to the cessation of Suffering.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            I accept it.
                            What is suffering?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            True suffering arises
                            from contaminated actions
                            and afflictions.  Birth,
                            illness, grief, old age,
                            poverty, pain, death - these
                            are surferings.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            I accept it.
                            What are the causes of suffering?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            The causes of suffering arise from
                            true sources.  Attachment,
                            desire, envy, hatred, greed,
                            unkindness, wrong view and so forth -
                            these are some causes of suffering.

     Now we CUT BACK to Ling Rinpoche, but he is standing,
     outside, in a courtyard.  He asks another question, but he
     raises his right hand as he speaks, and lowers his left,
     completing the question with a clap of the hands.

<b>     EXT.  COURTYARD, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     It is a beautiful, blue-sky day.  The Dalai Lama is learning
     "debate".  High Lamas sit on tapestry pillows, under
     appliqued canopies, observing.  Young monks can be seen,
     watching, from a greater distance.

     The Lord Chamberlain sits to one side.  Taktra Rinpoche, now
     Regent, is beside him.

     The Dalai Lama sits on the ground at Ling's feet.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            How does one progress from
                            the realization of one Noble Truth to
                            another?
                            (clap)

     A long silence from His Holiness.  The Lamas wait on tender
     hooks.  Finally, the boy says:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            We will have to think about that.

     There is laughter.  Even Ling Rinpoche laughs and the boy
     erupts into his beautiful, free, easy laugh.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I need to squeeze this brain.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            Answer.
                            (clap)

     A pause, and then:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            When one understands that
                            he causes some of his own suffering,
                            needlessly, then he looks for
                            the causes in his own life.

                            And when and he looks for those
                            causes, when he investigates,
                            then he is putting confidence
                            in his own ability to eliminate
                            the sources and end the suffering.

                            A wish to find a path to peace
                            arises. For all beings desire
                            happiness.  All wish to find
                            their purest selves.

     Ling nods in approval.

     He looks to the elders.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            I accept it.

     Taktra Rinpoche and the Lord Chamberlain are proud.

<b>     EXT.  SAME COURTYARD  DUSK
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso runs up a slant board and leaps off the edge -
     a big jump, a flying leap.  He falls to the ground, then
     gets up, laughing, and runs up the board again.

     The same old monks who watched him debate, watch him play.

     The Lord Chamberlain and Taktra Rinpoche are among them.
     The Lord Chamberlain obviously loves watching his young
     charge play.  The Regent is not so sure.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            Careful!  Careful!

     Tenzin Gyatso shouts:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I need to jump!
                            I love to jump!

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  NIGHT
</b>
     The Nechung Oracle is the protective deity of Tibet.

     Tonight, he is in full trance.  It is an amazing sight.

     The monk who is his medium spins and twirls, he wags his
     heavy headdress about.  A round mirror glitters on his
     chest.  Sweat pours from his brow, over his wildly grimacing
     face.

     The Oracle spits at the government officials in the room.

     Horns blow, cymbals crash, incense burns.  The Oracle nears
     the Dalai Lama and retreats from him.  Finally, he whispers
     in the boy's ear.

<b>                                      ORACLE
</b>                            Heed the warning of your predecessor.
                            Or the war will end here.

     And then, the Oracle gently straightens Tenzin Gyatso's
     yellow robes, before the trance ends and the Oracle falls
     into the arms of his attendants.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     Wind whistles through the Potala's hallways and porticos.

     The Master of the Kitchen is clearing away the dinner
     dishes.

     The view of the floor reveals that a "toy" war is being
     waged.

     With a "Meccano" set, the young Dalai Lama has created what
     looks like an airplane, and a tank.  These vehicles are
     manned by beautifully detailed lead soldiers - British World
     War One Field soldiers, French Legionaries and American
     Artillery men.

     Norbu Thundrup, is flying low with a tsampa~dough airplane.
     He drops little tsampa-dough bombs from his hand.  He hits a
     tank and knocks down a few lead soldiers.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Oh, nicely done, Norbu.  I will
                            get you.

     The Lord Chamberlain enters.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            May I listen to the news with you,
                            Holiness?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Please.

     A large, old-fashioned, short-wave radio broadcasts that
     there is still a real war in progress.  The BBC report is of
     the Pacific front.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            How big is Tibet's army?

<b>                                      LORD CPIAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Roughly five thousand men.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Is that big?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            No.  Not very big.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            The Regent is adding men.
                            And he bought rifles
                            and ammunition from India.
                            Mountain guns, too.

     The broadcast reports news of the civil war in China.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Will we be in this war?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            No.  This war is almost over.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Will we ever be in war?

     The Lord Chamberlain is silent.  Norbu answers.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            We have enemies.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            The Chinese.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Yes.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            But, surely, we are safe in Tibet.
                            We don't believe in killing.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            No, we don't.

     Tenzin Gyatso gets to his feet and takes an atlas from his
     table.   He lays the book open on the floor.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            This is Britain.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Ahh.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Where is Poland?

     The Lord chamberlain sits on the floor.  He points to
     Poland.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Where is Pearl Harbor?

     The Master of the Kitchen comes to look at the atlas.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            In the Pacific Ocean.  It is an
                            island.  American territory.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Where is Alsace?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            I do not know, Holiness.

     Tenzin Gyatso turns to a well thumbed page:  Tibet.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            This is Tibet.
                            And this is China.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Ahh.

     They all look at huge China.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Certainly, we are safe in Tibet.

     No one answers.

     Finally, as Norbu Thundrup begins to gather up the tsampa-
     dough:

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            We hope, Kundun.

     Tenzin Gyatso turns to the Lord Chamberlain.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What was the warning of the
                            Thirteenth Dalai Lama?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            He warned about the future of
                            Tibet.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Tell me.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            When it is time.

<b>     INT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     His Holiness works on an old movie projector.  A white-
     haired, CHINESE MONK works with him.  The old Monk has very
     little patience.  He bangs his hand on the table, and huffs
     and puffs as the two try again to fiddle with this and that.
     Tenzin Gyatso works diligently and calmly.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Patience is the first of the Six
                            Perfections.

     The old Monk mutters something in Chinese.  They thread a
     roll of dusty film into the reel and spin the wheel.  The
     film breaks.  The old monk bangs the table again.  The work
     continues.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            One day, we will get that automobile
                            running.

     The monks slaps his head in horrid anticipation.

<b>     INT.  DARK ROOM, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     A movie begins, shown on a piece of cloth tacked to a wall.

     It is a newsreel - footage from World War One. The
     trenches.

     The boy goes up to the cloth screen and touches it gently,
     playing with his own shadow as men dash from foxholes across
     a muddy, body strewn field.

     The boy steps back and stares at the horror of real war;
     men sleeping in the muddy foxholes, make-shift hospitals
     tend the dying.  Youths - not much older than His Holiness -
     weep into their filthy, bloody hands.

     The Old Monk keeps his trembling hand on the noisy, hand-
     operated, projector.

     Tenzin Gyatso slowly sits, cross-legged, on the bare floor.

     War does not look good on film.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     The boy sits alone, in front of his altar, praying.
     Meditating.

<b>     INT.  ALTAR ROOM, THE NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     A black room, lit by butter lamps.

     Taktra Rinpoche and Tenzin Gyatso sit opposite one another,
     cross-legged on the floor.  Taktra is the teacher, he sits a
     bit higher.

     The room is a shrine to Mahakala, the Dalai Lama's personal
     deity.  Mahakala is present, in the form of a huge, golden
     statue.

     The boy has his head bent low to catch the Rinpoche's words.
     There is much gesturing, much murmuring.  We might catch
     only a word or two.

     An oral teaching is being passed on, a lineage teaching.  It
     is sacred and secret.

<b>     EXT.  UPPER COURTYARD, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     CLOSE on a thangka of Penden Lhamo.

     We hear monks debating.  It is Ling Rinpoche answering,
     playing the student.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            "To be born in a time when the
                            Buddha has appeared.
                            To be born in a time when the
                            Buddha has taught.
                            To be born when the teaching of
                            Buddha is alive."

     We find His Holiness, sitting, listening to the debate.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            "To be born where the dharma is
                            practiced.
                            To be born in a time when people have
                            compassion for other people."

     The view widens now and we are under a softly billowing,
     appliqued canopy.  Maybe fifty monks and lamas are present.
     This is an informal group.

<b>                                      QUESTIONER
</b>                            How is human life precious?

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            As a result of previous karma,
                            you have obtained this human life.
                            By means of this rebirth, through
                            work and study, you can attain all
                            everlasting happiness.
                            In the words of Shantideva:
                            "With the boat of this precious life,
                            You can cross the waters of Samsara.
                            How rare to find this boat!"
                            "Oh, ignorant one, do not fall
                            asleep now!"

     Shots ring out.

     The men jump to their feet, and rush out from under the
     canopy.  The Dalai Lama is right in front.

     More shots as the men stare out across the countryside.

     We hear murmurs of:

<b>                                      VOICES
</b>                            Sera, Sera Monastery.
                            Reting.  Under arrest.  The
                            army is taking him right past Sera!
                            Monastery!  Those crazy monks!  Have
                            been threatening trouble.
                            Reting tried to assassinate
                            Taktra Rinpoche.

     We hear these snippets as the Dalai Lama runs from the group.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAYS, POTALA  DAY
</b>
     It is almost black inside this old building.  The panting
     boy runs up and up and up several staircases.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso runs down the hall and enters his red rooms.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DAY
</b>
     Norbu Thundrup is in the room and he moves ahead of the boy
     - out to the terrace.

<b>     EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S TERRACE  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso climbs up on a small, wooden platform, and
     mans his telescope.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            It's the army, firing on
                            Sera Monastery!
                            Oh, no!  Oh, no!

     The shooting continues.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Why is this?  What is happening?
                            Tell me!

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Reting Rinpoche has been
                            arrested.  He tried to
                            overthrow Regent Taktra.
                            Today, he is brought back
                            to Lhasa by government officials.
                            The monks at Sera Monastery
                            have been on his side.  Now,
                            there is trouble between them
                            and the army.

     The Lord Chamberlain arrives on the terrace.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            I am sorry for you to have to
                            witness this, Kundun.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Look here!

     The Lord Chamberlain peers through the telescope as the
     shooting continues.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Tragic.  Unnecessary.

     The Lord Chamberlain steps away from the telescope and the
     boy takes his place.

     The shooting slowly stops.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Holiness?
                            I have a letter.

     The boy looks up.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            The Thirteenth Dalai Lama's warning.
                            He wrote to you, the year before he
                            died.  The year before you were born.

     The Lord Chamberlain walks to a far, sheltered end of the
     terrace.

     Tenzin Gyatso slowly turns the telescope to see the prison
     yard.

     View through the telescope;  the yard is full of prisoners,
     listening to the shooting.  One man sees the telescope aimed
     at the prison and prostrates.  Then another, and another.

     Tenzin Gyatso steps away from the telescope and turns to
     follow his Lord Chamberlain.

<b>     EXT.  OTHER SIDE OF TERRACE  DAY
</b>
     The Lord Chamberlain opens a yellowing letter and begins to
     read.  Tenzin Gyatso sits down beside him.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            "It may happen, that here
                            in Tibet, religion and
                            government will be attacked
                            both from without and within.
                            Unless we guard our own country..."

     CLOSE on the Lord Chamberlain.  Today, he appears tired;
     the whites of his eyes appear enormous.  His voice is quite
     beautiful.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            "...it will now happen that
                            the Dalai and Panchen Lamas, the
                            Father and the Son, and all
                            the revered holders of the faith,
                            will disappear and become
                            nameless."

     Tenzin Gyatso unwinds the rosary from his wrist and begins
     thumbing the brown beads.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            "Monks and their monasteries will be
                            destroyed.
                            The rule of law will be weakened.
                            The lands and properties will be
                            seized.  They themselves will
                            be forced to serve their enemies
                            or wander the country like
                            beggars."

                            "All beings will be sunk
                            in great hardship and overwhelming
                            fear; the days and nights will
                            drag on slowly in suffering."

     He is finished.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What can I do?  I am only
                            a boy.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            You are the man who wrote this
                            letter.  You are the man who has come
                            back to lead us.   You will soon have
                            great responsibilities.  You must
                            know what to do.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, ADJACENT ROOM,  DAY
</b>
     The Regent and the Lord Chamberlain are present.

     Also present is the KASHAG - a council of four men:  one
     monk, three laymen.  They are the Dalai Lama's advisory
     cabinet.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOM  DAY
</b>
     The boy rises from his desk.  Norbu says:

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            You remember who you are.
                            You called for them.

     Tenzin Gyatso enters the adjacent room.

<b>     INT.  ADJACENT ROOM  DAY
</b>
     The boy climbs onto a cushion and sits - a head above his
     officials.  He is tentative, unsure of form and procedure.

     There is an awkward, formal silence.  Then:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Taktra Rinpoche, I understand
                            there was an attempt on your
                            life.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            It is possible, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You are unharmed?

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            Completely.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Good.  Where is Reting Rinpoche now?

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            He has been imprisoned, here in the
                            Potala, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            The Sera monks have surrendered?

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            It is calm.

     The boy motions to the table.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Please, have tea.

     The tea is poured.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I need to know what you
                            know.  I am no longer a child.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Ask whatever you will.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What is the danger from the
                            Chinese, now?

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Very complicated, Holiness.
                            Let me tell you current news.

                            The Chinese have launched a deceptive
                            campaign aimed at convincing the
                            world that Tibet belongs to China.

                            We sent a mission to the Chinese
                            National Conference.  Our attendance
                            was a grave mistake.  The Tibetans
                            were introduced as delegates from the
                            "Chinese region of Tibet".
                            We protested this reference and
                            demanded a letter rebutting it.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Did you receive the letter?

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            We did not.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            The war is over.
                            This is a time in when nations are
                            redefining themselves.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            So, Tibet, too, needs to define
                            itself.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Yes.  As a free country.
                            But our attempts have proven
                            futile.  We continue to be
                            badly outmaneuvered by the Chinese.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Can India help us?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            India is a newly independent
                            nation.  They are struggling.
                            India is in no position
                            to help us.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Britain?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Britain chooses not to.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            And, America?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            America, we shall see.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Ask the Chinese mission to leave
                            our country.  Immediately.

     A shocking suggestion.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Quite simple.  Yes.  Good.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I shall send a letter to America,
                            to the President, informing him of
                            our problem.

     The men agree to this.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I want Reting Rinpoche well cared
                            for.  He is my teacher.  He found me.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOM  NIGHT
</b>
     The Dalai Lama sits at his desk, writing a letter.

     The radio is on.  It is the BBC - with news of a Communist
     advantage in Kuomintang China.

     Norbu Thundrup enters.  The boy looks up.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Listen to this, Norbu.
                            (he reads):
          To
          Mr Truman
          The President of the United States of America

         I am glad that you are enjoying the best of health and
         doing good service to uplift the happiness and
         prosperity of the whole world.  Here, I am well and
         doing my best for the religion of Lord Buddha and
         welfare of all beings.

                            This is all, so far.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Reting Rinpoche has died in prison.

     Tenzin Gyatso lays down his pen.

<b>     EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S TERRACE  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso is alone.  He has a little smelting
     arrangement built out on the terrace.  He lays a lead
     soldier on the hot bottom of a heavy, metal bowl.

     CLOSE on the soldier.  It begins to melt.

     The boy has a pile of the soldiers.  He drops a second one
     in the bowl.

     We bear the sounds of Lhasa - laughter, street songs - and
     we see the stars, hanging, it seems, just above the young
     boy's head.

<b>     EXT.  NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     The young Tenzin Gyatso bursts through the gate in the
     Yellow Wall and runs across the beautiful garden to his
     parents's home.

<b>     INT.  PARENTS'S HOME, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     A family gathering meets the boy's eye when he enters.

     There is his Mother, his oldest sister, Tsering Dolma,
     Lobsang Samten, a younger sister, Pema, baby brother Tendzin
     Chuta, and his oldest brother, Takster.

     We don't recognize these faces, of course, but the gathering
     is obviously familial.

     Only the boy's Father is missing.

     Tenzin Gyatso goes to his Mother and lays his head in her
     lap.

     On an altar behind her, is a silver frame.  In the frame is
     a picture of her husband.

<b>     DREAM SEQUENCE
</b>
<b>     EXT.  HILLTOP  DAWN
</b>
     The body of the Dalai Lama's Father lays on a flat boulder.

     Incense smoke curls into the air.  Prayer wheels are turned,
     hand drums are played - the burial men stand off to one
     side, their hatchets and knives in view.

     Tenzin Gyatso is present.  He is the boy we know, but beside
     him stands the four year-old boy, Lhamo, from the beginning
     of the movie, and on the other side of him stands the boy
     who will play the Dalai Lama in the next section of the film
     -  a boy about fifteen or sixteen.

     Tenzin Gyatso wraps his brown rosary around his left wrist.
     The beads catch the brilliant afternoon light.  The sixteen
     year-old Dalai Lama wears the same colored rosary around his
     left wrist.

     The cutters move in to the corpse, and as we hear them begin
     the work of dismembering the body, the view pans up to
     reveal the vultures circling overhead.

     The last person leaving the hilltop with is the Dalai Lama
     as an older man - not a character from this movie - but a
     man of about fifty years, wearing glasses, wearing the same
     robes, the same rosary.  Little Lhamo walks beside him.

<b>     END DREAM SEQUENCE
</b>
<b>     EXT.  SKY OVER TIBET  NIGHT
</b>
     We hear a loud explosion, and then another and another and
     another.  The sound begins to fade, but the blue-black,
     peaceful, star-filled sky is shattered by bright bursts of
     red and yellow and pink light.

     It is a frightening sight.

<b>     EXT.  GARDEN, NORBULINKA  DAWN (1950)
</b>
     The still waters of the fish pond begin to move.  The fish
     swim in nervous circles;  the water laps over its stone
     banks.

<b>     EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S RESIDENCE  DAWN
</b>
     The whole building shakes.  Earthquake.

     One monk runs down the stairs, another monk runs up, both
     staring at a second floor window - a black-rimmed, glass
     window.

     A red cloth is pulled back and the window is opened.

     The fifteen year-old Tenzin Gyatso looks out.

     There is a terrible rumbling:  the rumbling that accompanies
     an earthquake.  Finally, slowly, the sound, and the movement
     subsides.

     CLOSE on Tenzin Gyatso.  He lets the curtain fall.

<b>     INT.  GREAT HALL, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     The General Assembly is in session.

     Once again, the Yigstang and the Tsitang - four monks and
     four laymen - sit facing one another.  But the room is
     crowded today - this is a full session.  The Lord
     chamberlain sits in.  Regent Taktra is there.

     The senior Layman is on his knees.

<b>                                      LAYMAN
</b>                            The Communist have control of
                            China.

     In the back of the room we notice an open door.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama is listening.  He stands taller than the
     first time we caught him eavesdropping.  He still is not a
     part of this assembly, but he doesn't seem to care if he is
     spotted.

<b>     INT.  GREAT HALL  DAY
</b>
     The Layman continues.

<b>                                      LAYMAN
</b>                            Now, as his great army, stands idle
                            on our borders, Chairman Mao has
                            presented Tibet with three demands:

                            One, Tibet must accept that
                            it is part of China.

     A murmuring in the room.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  DAY
</b>
     Shock on the face of His Holiness.

<b>                                      LAYMAN (OC)
</b>                            Two, Tibet's defenses must
                            be handled by China.
                            Three, all political and trade
                            matters concerning foreign countries
                            must be conducted through China.

     A voice shouts out:

<b>                                      VOICE IN BACK OF ROOM (OC)
</b>                            Give the Dalai Lama his majority!

<b>     INT.  GREAT HALL  DAY
</b>
     The senior Monk is on his knees.

<b>                                      MONK
</b>                            We can concede that Tibet is a part
                            of China if we can guarantee that
                            the Dalai Lama's name and authority
                            will remain...

<b>                                      LAYMAN
</b>                            And do you believe that the Tibetan
                            government will be allowed to
                            continue to function as it is?
                            Do you believe that our religion
                            will be protected?

<b>                                      VOICES
</b>                            Give the Dalai Lama his majority!

<b>                                      MONK
</b>                            We have dealt with this Chinese
                            obsession for hundreds of years.
                            We can deal with it now.

<b>                                      LAYMAN
</b>                            These are not the Chinese we know.
                            These are Communists.

<b>                                      VOICES
</b>                            Make him Dalai Lama now!

     We see the Lord Chamberlain look toward the open door.

<b>     INT.  HALLWAY  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso looks at his advisor, and then, he closes the
     door as the demand for his enthronement continues.

     He walks down the hall, past the door leading to the
     treasure room, alone now - an adult.  He is wearing those
     European, lace-up shoes found in the treasure room so long
     ago.  They are still too big for him.

<b>     EXT.  TRIBUTARY OF THE KYICHU RIVER, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso and Taktra Rinpoche walk side by side along
     the waterway.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            If we agree that we are part of
                            China, nothing else will matter.
                            Not trade, not defense. We will be
                            lost.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            What would you do, Holiness?

     The boy looks out over the water.

     Shepherds are leading their flock of sheep back toward town
     on the far side of the tributary.

     The two men stand side by side, one so young, one seeming so
     old.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What should I do about my doubt,
                            Teacher?

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            It is a difficult situation.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I mean, my doubt.  Why me?
                            Am I Him?

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            Doubt is an affliction.  Reliquish
                            it.  Accept.

     Pause.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I believe we must make no concesions
                            to the Chinese.  But, I am one voice.
                            The Dalai Lama has always trusted in
                            the forces of Buddha.  Let us consult
                            the protective deities.

     Taktra Rinpoche bows and leaves him.

     Tenzin Gyatso stands alone by the river.  The boy watches
     the herders, and before the young shepherds disappear from
     sight, the Dalai Lama turns and waves a hand behind him.

     Two Bodyguards approach.  We can not hear, but as the Dalai
     Lama walks away from us, down the river, one Bodyguard runs
     up river, shouting:

                                      BODYGUARD (shouting)
                            We will buy them!  We will buy them!

<b>     INT.  ALTAR ROOM, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     In this black room, under the protective view of the statue
     of Mahakala, a divine lottery is performed.

     Tenzin Gyatso, the Regent Taktra Rinpoche, The Lord
     chamberlain, the Kashag, the Yigstang and the Tsitang are
     all present.

     Tsampa-dough balls are made, three of them, each containing
     a strip of parchment, bearing writing.  The dough is shaped
     and weighed to see that each ball is equal.

     Then, the three balls are placed in a silver bowl and the
     bowl is spun.  The balls whirl, race, and finally one leaps
     from the bowl.

     This ball is taken to the Dalai Lama and he makes a mark on
     it.  The ball is returned to the bowl, the procedure is
     repeated, and a ball leaps again, almost immediately.  This
     ball is presented and the Dalai Lama places his mark - next
     to the mark he just made.  It is the same ball.

     Tenzin Gyatso makes the twelfth mark on the same ball, and
     the spinning begins again and then the thirteenth mark, and
     then the ball is broken open and the strip of parchment
     handed to the Regent.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            We should not accept any conditions
                            from the Chinese.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     In a paved area, adjacent to the Yellow Wall which marks the
     Dalai Lama's private grounds, the Opera Festival has begun.

     This festival involves performances by Tibetan singers,
     dancers and actors.  It looks to be a joyous occasion;
     officials and their wives are dressed in their finest and
     sit before beautifully laid picnics.  Children run here and
     there, amidst the monks and nomads, the swashbuckling
     Khambas from eastern Tibet (large people, with heavy braids
     wrapped in red cloth on top of their heads).  There are
     westerners, Nepalese and Sikimese.

     Dancers - dressed in wild, colorful outfits - spin and leap
     in time to the eerie, Tibetan music.

     Atop a low building on the Yellow Wall, stands an elaborate
     enclosure - draped in yellow silk.

     The Dalai Lama sits inside it.

<b>     INT.  ENCLOSURE  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso is alone in this little room;  his arms rest
     on a window ledge as he stares down at the festival taking
     place below him.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS  DAY
</b>
     A bit more of the dancers and the people enjoying themselves
     - all from the isolated point of view of the Dalai Lama.

     We recognize a few characters:  Keustang Rinpoche.  His
     Holiness's Mother with her younger children, the favorite
     sweeper, Norbu Thundrup - dressed in a fine hat.

     But a distant figure becomes apparent - he is a MESSENGER -
     he is running, through the crowds, toward the Yellow Wall.

     We stay on this desperate little figure as he draws closer.

<b>     INT.  ENCLOSURE  DAY
</b>
     The boy is watching the Messenger.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS  DAY
</b>
     Back to that messenger as he works his way, ever closer to
     the building which holds the Dalai Lama aloft, and then we
     lose sight of him.

<b>     INT.  ENCLOSURE  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso leans back in his seat.  The yellow silk
     curtain that his elbows have held open now fall closed and
     we hear the heavy footsteps of the runner.

     A knock.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE (OC)
</b>                            Enter.

     The Regent is next door.

     The boy climbs up on a chest and peeks through a tiny window
     in the wall which separates this enclosure from the
     Regent's.

     Taktra Rinpoche reads a telegram.  His aging
     face becomes quite grave.

     The Regent leaves his side of the enclosure.

<b>                                      REGENT (OC)
</b>                            Summon the Lord Chamberlain and
                            the Kashag.

     And then, there is a knock on the Dalai Lama's door.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Enter.

     It is the Regent.

<b>                                      REGENT TAKTRA
</b>                            Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Yes.

<b>                                      REGENT TAKTRA
</b>                            The Chinese have invaded.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     Back to a new group of performers - satirists, dressed as
     high lamas and monks - even as the Nechung Oracle -
     lampooning the rulers.  The crowd roars with laughter.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, NORBULINKA  DUSK
</b>
     The Lord Chamberlain stands with the teenage Dalai Lama.
     The room is a violent red in the sunset.

     Tenzin Gyatso has cleared off his table, he is creating a
     three-dimensional battlefield as his Lord Chamberlain
     explains the situation.  Tenzin Gyatso uses papers, books,
     little statues to bring a physical life to the words we
     hear.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            They crossed the river, Holiness.
                            They have invaded in six locations,
                            Chando Province, Kham, eastern Tibet.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What is the size of our army, now?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Eight thousand, five hundred,
                            soldiers and officers.
                            We have recently requested mortars,
                            anti-aircraft guns and ammunition
                            from India.  We have several hundred
                            in the area.

     Little statues are placed facing what stands-in for the
     river.

     The Lord Chamberlain helps the boy to create this panorama.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Has anyone died?

<b>                                      LORD CHMBERLAIN
</b>                            The radio contact said one
                            officer had died.  Then he
                            said, "The Chinese soldiers -
                            they are coming."
                            And then, the radio went dead.

     Tenzin Gyatso lifts one statue, a small, golden Buddha, from
     the display.  He cradles the Buddha in his hands.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            One man.  A man has died.
                            One man is too many.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     In beautiful sunlight, the painted cabinets of this room
     glisten.  Rainbows of color play on the glass windows.  The
     Dalai Lama sits at a low table, a pack of colored pencils,
     or pastels, spread out around him.  He is teaching his
     little brother to draw.

     Together, little hand in bigger hand, they draw.

     The Dalai Lama's Mother sits in a side chair, watching her
     sons.

     The little boy screams with laughter as the brothers draw a
     yak.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     A movie is being shown - outside - on a makeshift screen.

     It is "Henry the Fourth".

     This is a treat for the sweepers, and gardeners and
     servants.  children sit on the grass, mesmerized by this
     incredible vision.

     Tenzin Gyatso sits beside Heinrich Harrer.

     The boy rubs his eyes wearily.  He appears distracted.
     This line is spoken by an actor:

<b>                                      ACTOR IN MOVIE
</b>                            "Heavy lies the head, that
                            wears the crown."

     CLOSE on Tenzin Gyatso.

<b>     EXT.  ROAD BEHIND NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama sits behind the wheel of a 1927 Austin. He
     is a lousy driver - a boy who never commanded a wheeled
     vehicle in all of his young life.

     The Attendants sit in the back seat, holding on for dear
     life.

     We hear Tenzin Gyatso's wonderful, deep laugh.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOM, THE POTALA  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso is listening to Peking Radio.  Norbu Thundrup
     is with him.

     The boy tinkers with a clock as he listens - he is swiftly
     becoming a master tinkerer.

<b>                                      RADIO
</b>                            "This week, the People's
                            Liberation Army crossed the Drichu
                            River east of Chamdo and began
                            the peaceful liberation
                            of Tibet.

                            Tibet is in the hands of
                            imperialist enemies of
                            the people.  The Dalai
                            Lama, a foolish reminder
                            of an illiterate past,
                            is the figure head of
                            this autonomous region
                            of China.  Accept our
                            help, Tibet!  The people
                            shall be free!"

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What do the people say, Norbu?

     Norbu is not shy in his report.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Tibetan officials have retreated from
                            Chamdo.  They are scared and
                            running.  The Chinese strategy has
                            destroyed the heart of our defense
                            forces.  Chamdo falls, several other
                            villages are lost.  You know what
                            happens.  The road to Lhasa will be
                            wide open.

     Tenzin Gyatso listens carefully to the man.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            The people want you made Dalai Lama.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Then, I am lucky.
                            I am still too young.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            These are dangerous times.
                            They want the Dalai Lama to lead
                            them.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            But, I have no experience.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Oh, but you do, Kundun.
                            Who else would be here?

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  NIGHT
</b>
     The Nechung Oracle spins in his trance.  Horns blow, cymbals
     clash, the Oracle spurts sounds as lamas chant.

     Finally, the Oracle approaches the boy, stands beside him,
     like a lieutenant, a comrade, and says:

<b>                                      ORACLE
</b>                            "His time has come."

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama is reading - Tibet's appeal to the United
     Nations.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "To the members of the United
                            Nations:

                            The attention of the world is
                            riveted on Korea where aggression
                            is being resisted by an international
                            force.  Similar happenings in remote
                            Tibet are passing without notice.
                            The problem is not of Tibet's
                            own making but is largely the outcome
                            of unthwarted Chinese ambition
                            to bring weaker nations on her
                            periphery within her active
                            domination."

                            This is very good.  Quite strong.

     The Lord Chamberlain and the four members of the Kashag
     agree.

     The boy continues:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "Tibetans have for long lived a
                            cloistered life in their mountain
                            fastness, remote and aloof..."

     In the background, we see monks on top of a wall, long horns
     in front of them.  The blowing begins.

     In a courtyard below, a debating session is in progress.  We
     hear the shouts and the claps and watch the beautiful body
     movements of the questioners.  Laughter fills the air.

     Below that, the small capital of Tibet - the mysterious
     city, the forbidden city of Lhasa - carries on, for now.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  NIGHT
</b>
     A monk - an abbot, in fact - sits beside Tenzin Gyatso.

     It is Takster Rinpoche, the Dalai Lama's oldest brother.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            I was never alone.  Two Chinese
                            were with me every minute of the day.

     Tenzin Gyatso plays with a box of those special sweets which
     comes from his mother.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            Their talk is always of liberation
                            and helpfulness.  They put their
                            words like honey on a knife, but if
                            you lick the honey, you will bleed.

     Takster Rinpoche begins to say something, but holds back.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Tell me.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            They think they have convinced me.
                            They think I am on their side.
                            They have allowed me to leave Kumbum
                            and come to Lhasa believing that I
                            will try to turn you to their ways.
                            If I do not succeed, I am to
                            eliminate you.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You, kill me?

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            Eliminate you.

     The tension is great, the idea profound.

<b>                                      TARSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            I can be Governor of Lhasa,
                            they say.

     The brothers try to resist, but cannot.  They laugh like
     crazy.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            Don't eat all those sweets.
                            You'll get sick.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Do you remember the day I came to
                            your monastery, when I was a baby?
                            And you comforted me?

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            I do.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I remember, too, actually.
                            I was frightened then.
                            I am frightened now.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            The Chinese have one goal.  The
                            complete dissolution of our nation.
                            The destruction of our culture.
                            There is no room for Buddha in
                            their world.

                            Our only hope is to fight.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            We cannot.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            This is not a fight to put
                            bread just in one's own mouth.
                            This is a fight for Tibet.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Buddha teaches that we must learn
                            from our enemy.  We have compassion
                            for all people.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            These are not human beings.
                            They are worse than ghosts.

     Silence.

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            You are in great danger. The Dalai
                            Lama cannot fall into Chinese hands.
                            You must flee.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            How could I ever leave?

<b>                                      TAKSTER RINPOCHE
</b>                            It may not be your decision to make.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     In the adjacent room, the four members of the Kashag and the
     Lord Chamberlain are waiting.

     The Dalai Lama enters the room.

     The boy goes to a small table where a document is unrolled
     before him.

     Tenzin Gyatso lifts the gold seal of power and affixes it to
     the document.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I accept it.

     He makes his mark on a small piece of parchment that is
     attached to the document.

     He has accepted the request to be enthroned.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  HOUR BEFORE DAWN
</b>
     The Master of the Robe is helping Tenzin Gyatso to dress.
     He ties a piece of green cloth around his waist and helps
     him on with his maroon robes.

     Norbu is there, watching.

<b>     INT.  HALLS OF THE POTALA  PRE-DAWN
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso walks down this dark hall.  The three
     attendants are with him.

<b>     INT.  TEMPLE  DAWN
</b>
     It is very dark green.  Butter lamps highlight certain faces
     - members of the Kashag, noblemen, the tutors, an
     Englishman, Nepalese, Bhutanese, Tibetan Muslims - but the
     darkness conceals the great number of people present.

     We hear the unmistakable Tibetan horns and cymbals. We hear
     the chanting of monks.

     The boy is handed a Golden Wheel, symbolizing the assumption
     of temporal power.

     At one moment, the Lamas all put on their yellow hats - a
     color that peeks at us out of this dark room.  And we hear a
     voice:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (VO)
</b>                            We shall send delegations to
                            America, India, Nepal and Great
                            Britain, in hope that these countries
                            will intervene on our behalf.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama addresses the Yistang, the Tsitang.
     Two new faces are present.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            We have telegraphed our appeal to the
                            United Nations and await its reply.
                            I am sending a delegation to China
                            to negotiate the Chinese withdrawal.

     He looks around these rooms.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            It seems that I must depart Lhasa.
                            The majority wills it.
                            Lukhangwa and Lobsang Tashi?

     The two men rise to their knees - LUKHANGWA, an incredible
     looking layman, with a long white beard, and LOBSANG TASHI,
     a monk.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I am making you my Prime Ministers.
                            You will stay here.
                            You must always keep me informed,
                            no matter how bad the news.
                            I want plain information.

     The men bow to His Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Today, I declare a general
                            amnesty.

                            I have always wanted to free the
                            prisoners.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  DUSK
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso is packing.  We hear whispers in the adjacent
     room as the Masters of the Robe and the Ritual organize
     belongings into piles:  rolled thangkas, precious
     manuscripts, maroon robes, a few english books, the radio.

     The boy finds a few golden coins in a drawer and slips them
     into his robes.

     Tenzin Gyatso adds a package of tools, an atlas, the photo
     of the Thirteenth Dalai Lama, the European shoes.  Then, he
     goes to the terrace.

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE, THE POTALA  DUSK
</b>
     The boy does not need a footstool anymore.

     He glides the telescope across the countryside, catching
     sight of the young herders leading their sheep back into
     town.  He picks up a corner of the market place and the hub-
     bub of the end of the day.  Wall posters show Tibetan
     soldiers fleeing the Red Army.

     And then, he aims his view-finder at the prison yard.

     It is empty.  The prisoners are gone.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP (OC)
</b>                            It's time to take this down.

     Tenzin Gyatso lets go of the eyepiece and turns to see
     Norbu.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You will not come?

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            No, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Am I running away?

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            The people will cry when
                            they learn you are gone.
                            But they would all want you
                            safe.

     Together, the friends break-down the telescope.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Let me take this.

     Norbu folds up the tripod.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            You must study very hard, do not
                            neglect the holy things during this
                            time.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I will miss you.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            We have had fun, you and I.
                            Fun for a little boy in an old
                            palace.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            We have.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            You have grown up very good.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            And you have grown older and
                            your chin has grown balder.

     Norbu laughs.  The telescope is wrapped.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            Tonight, Kundun, you see the world.
                            You place your feet on the
                            shepherd boy's path.

     Norbu Thundrup ties a tight knot in a cord.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            "The Gods will be avenged."

     CLOSE on the gold seal of state as it is packed in a silk-
     lined box.

<b>     EXT.  POTALA WALLS  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso - dressed in the warm, woolen chuba of a
     layman - keeps his back against the wall.  Norbu is beside
     him, carrying a flashlight.

     A Bodyguard comes for them, and then, the Dalai Lama is
     outside the Potala walls.

<b>     EXT.  POTALA NIGHT
</b>
     The small group walks down a rocky path.  A grey horse is
     waiting.

     Tenzin Gyatso is helped onto the horse.  Norbu sees that he
     is comfortable, and then, the flashlight goes out.  Norbu
     fiddles with it.  Tenzin Gyatso takes the torch and tries
     get it working again.  The Guard mounts his horse.  It is
     time to go.  The horses snort, their breath consolidating
     the cold night air.

     Tenzin Gyatso cannot speak.  He tries, but he cannot.  Norbu
     takes the flashlight.

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP
</b>                            I will send it to you.
                            It will work.

     The horse is turned and the Dalai Lama is led away to join
     the soldiers at the foot of the path.

     Tenzin Gyatso turns once, to see his friend.  The night is
     dark.  Norbu has become invisible.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  NIGHT
</b>
     A cold and moonless night, lit only by the millions of stars
     that shine over Tibet.  The caravan - made up of noblemen,
     monks, family mambers and over two hundred soldiers (armed
     with rifles, machine guns and field artillery) - journeys
     out of Lhasa.

     CLOSE on the Dalai Lama:  riding the shepherd's path.

<b>     EXT.  YELLOW WALL, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso rides his grey horse through a gate in the
     yellow wall.

<b>     EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S RESIDENCE  NIGHT
</b>
     The boy climbs the stairs to his summer residence.

<b>     INT.  ALTAR ROOM  NIGHT
</b>
     The shrine of Mahakala.  Butter lamps cast their eerie glow
     on the black walls as the boy presents a white, silk scarf,
     a kata - a traditional token of leaving and return.

<b>     INT  ENTRANCE WAY, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso is about to leave the residence when he stops,
     and looks at the small cabinet in the corner.  He goes to
     it.

     The door is still locked.

     CLOSE on the boy.  Suddenly, he knows.

     He reaches a hand behind the cabinet.  The hand comes back
     to him with a key.

     Tenzin Gyatso opens the cabinet doors.  Several drawers are
     revealed.

     The boy opens one.  Empty.  Another.  Empty.

     A Bodyguard says, from the stairs:

<b>                                      BODYGUARD
</b>                            We must go, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            A moment.

     Another drawer.  Empty.  And then, success.

     In a small drawer, there is something, wrapped in red
     velvet.

     The boy opens it, with shaking hands.  Teeth.  False teeth.

     Tenzin Gyatso releases a sharp laugh, he has been holding
     his breath.   He wraps up the teeth and puts them back, but
     behind the teeth is something more.

     A rolled, white silk scarf, a kata.

     Tenzin Gyatso takes the scarf.  He unrolls it.  Something
     falls on the floor.

     A tiny, lead soldier.

     Tenzin Gyatso lifts the soldier.  It is a Ghurka.  An Indian
     soldier.

<b>                                      BODYGUARD
</b>                            Please, come, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Yes.  I am ready.

     The boy places the scarf around his own shoulders.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Safe journey.  Safe return.

                            I am him.

     CLOSE on the golden statue of Mahakala, wearing his white
     scarf.

     We hear the roar of the Kyichu river.

<b>     EXT.  KYICHU RIVER  NIGHT
</b>
     Coracles - skin boats - are loaded with bundles and people
     and pushed off the banks and into the water.

     Horses, donkeys and yaks must swim across.

     Tenzin Gyatso is helped into a boat.  The rowers, wrapped in
     heavy wool and sheepskin, their arms bare, push off.

     The boy is sprayed with water.  He is bumped about.  He is
     freezing cold.  He floats away from Lhasa.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  DAY
</b>
     The caravan journeys through a narrow mountain pass.
     The flags of Tibet and of the Dalai Lama are carried by
     mounted soldiers.

     Suddenly, monks come running from the surrounding mountain
     trails, shrieking, wailing.

     They run to lamas, grabbing at their robes, clutching,
     crying out:

<b>                                      MONKS
</b>                            Do not let him go!
                            We beg of you, do not take
                            him from us!

     One monk clutches for an instant at the layman's wrapping on
     Tenzin Gyatso - but he does not recognize him as the Dalai
     Lama

     The boy tenderly embraces this distraught figure, but the
     monk drops away from him and clings to the shy, sweet
     presence of Ling Rinpoche.

     The Dalai Lama is quickly and quietly surrounded by soldiers
     - discreetly, so as not to give away his identity.

     Ling Rinpoche speaks to a group.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            He goes for a short time, until
                            the danger can be determined.  He
                            will not leave Tibet.  He will
                            return.

     The pain on these monks's faces, in their voices, is tragic.

     Tenzin Gyatso is overwhelmed.

     He sees before him a line of prostrate monks - but they are
     not bowing to him, they are laying down in the pass, trying
     to block the way of the caravan.

     Ling Rinpoche goes to these men and gently helps them to
     their feet.

<b>                                      LING RINPOCHE
</b>                            He will return.
                            The Precious One will not abandon
                            you.

<b>     INT.  TENT  NIGHT
</b>
     The Dalai Lama lies awake in his camp bed.  He cannot sleep.
     He rises and walks to the tent flap.  He opens it.

<b>     EXT.  TENT  NIGHT
</b>
     A Bodyguard is posted.  He turns to the Dalai Lama.

     We recognize him.  He is the Bodyguard from that first
     caravan trip so long ago:  a huge monk with a big stick -
     the guard who stood outside the old monks's tent.  The man
     with the deformed face.

     The boy is not frightened this time.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            All quiet?

<b>                                      BODYGUARD
</b>                            Yes, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Where are you from?

<b>                                      BODYGUARD
</b>                            Kham, Holiness.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Your people are very brave.
                            They are fighting the Chinese.
                            No one can stop them.
                            Not even me.

<b>                                      BODYGUARD
</b>                            Khambas are wild men.

     There is silence as the two men look out at the cold night.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I worry about them.

<b>                                      BODYGUARD
</b>                            Do not worry, Holiness.
                            They fight for you.
                            They are under your protection.

     The boy steps back inside.

<b>     INT.  TENT  NIGHT
</b>
     We hear the approach of a horse, and then the Bodyguard
     enters the tent.

<b>                                      BODYGUARD
</b>                            Holiness, this has come for you.

     The Bodyguard hands the boy a parcel.  Tenzin Gyatso unwraps
     it.  His flashlight.  It works.

     A pause, and then Tenzin Gyatso sits in front of the thangka
     of Penden Lhamo.

     He reads from the scripture pages laid out on the low table.
     He reads by flashlight.

<b>     INT.  COUNTRYSIDE  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama walks along a beaten, caravan path.  He is
     still in disguise, and obviously, enjoying it.

     An OLD MUSLIM MAN is beside him - an incredible looking
     creature.

<b>                                      MUSLIM MAN
</b>                            Eighteen children.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Eighteen, wonderful.

<b>                                      MUSLIM MAN
</b>                            And not a monk among them.

     The Dalai Lama laughs.

<b>                                      MUSLIM MAN
</b>                            No, no son of mine will sit
                            and read books and eat up the
                            poor people's butter while
                            my people have to butcher
                            the cows and sheep because
                            these holy men can't kill
                            an animal.  They can eat
                            it, can't they?

     The boy laughs again.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE - LATER  DAY
</b>
     Still walking, with two companions.  A Tibetan peasant
     WOMAN, and his own mother.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Did you love your husband, before
                            you married?

<b>                                      TIBETAN WOMAN
</b>                            I did not know him before I
                            married him.  I loved his
                            brother, but then, I married his
                            brother, too.  He is dead now.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Hmm.

<b>                                      TIBETAN WOMAN
</b>                            The land has stayed in the family.
                            We work together.  The nobleman is
                            not too bad.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Does he treat you fairly?

     A laugh from her.

<b>                                      TIBETAN WOMAN
</b>                            Not too bad.  Rich is rich,
                            poor is poor.  We are different.
                            Are you married?

     Tenzin Gyatso laughs.

     The Attendants walk behind the boy, eavesdropping.  Tenzin
     Gyatso's Mother plays along.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            No.

<b>                                      TIBETAN WOMAN
</b>                            Too young?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Much too young.

<b>                                      TIBETAN WOMAN
</b>                            Look for a strong woman, not
                            too occupied with her beauty.
                            Look for a woinan who keeps
                            her hands busy.  Look for
                            a kind heart.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Like my mother.

<b>                                      TIBETAN WOMAN
</b>                            I see that.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE, STILL LATER  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama walks beside two boys: his older brother,
     Lobsang, and a YOUNG NOBLE BOY.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            This little brother was terribly
                            sweet.  When he died, my
                            mother was so sad.  A lama said
                            to her, before the little brother
                            was laid out for burial, take
                            a bit of butter and rub a spot on
                            his skin.  He will come back to you,
                            you will see.
                            So, my mother did this, and a few
                            years later, a new boy was born.

<b>                                      NOBLE BOY
</b>                            Does he have the spot?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            He does, a little spot where the
                            butter had been.

<b>                                      NOBLE BOY
</b>                            Is that a true story, or pretend?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What do you think?

<b>                                      NOBLE BOY
</b>                            True.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You decide.

     They walk.

<b>                                      NOBLE BOY
</b>                            What does the butter spot feel like?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Soft.  Nice.
                            I have a good friend back in
                            Lhasa.  He has a very poor beard,
                            with a little spot on his chin
                            where no hair grows.  It feels like
                            that.

<b>     EXT.  EST. SHOT,  DUNGKHAR MONASTERY - ON A HILL,
</b><b>     OVERLOOKING DROMO VALLEY  DAY
</b>
     It is raining as we see the Dalai Lama on horseback,
     climbing the dirt path leading to this beautiful, small
     monastery.  The caravan has arrived at its destination.

     We hear the chanting of monks.

<b>     INT.  THE DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, DUNGKAAR MONASTERY
</b><b>     DAY
</b>
     A home has been made:   books on the shelf, screwdrivers all
     in a row, European shoes under the bed.  An old Bush radio
     receiver, running off a six-volt battery, sits on the floor.
     The telescope stands on the terrace.

     Two members of the Kashag can be seen in the adjacent room.
     The rooms are stark white.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Of the Tibetan delegations sent
                            abroad, all have been turned away.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (OC)
</b>                            All?

<b>     INT.  ADJACENT ROOM  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso, dressed informally, looking peaceful, sits
     with his advisors on the floor.  The Lord Chamberlain is
     with them.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Britain, Nepal, America, India.
                            All of those governments have
                            refused to meet with our
                            representatives.

     Silence.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            And the United Nations?  Surely?

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            The United Nations voted not to
                            hear our appeal.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            One country did sponsor the
                            resolution.  A land called "El
                            Salvador".

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Where is that?

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            In the Americas.

     Silence.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            So, we must face China and all
                            her might alone.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Yes.
                            Most of the Chamdo region is
                            now in Chinese hands.  There is
                            a report from Chamdo which makes
                            quite clear that, unless some
                            settlement can soon be reached,
                            Communist troops will soon be
                            marching on Lhasa.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            With much bloodshed.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            I am afraid.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I want at all costs to avoid this.
                            Do we have news from the delegation
                            in China?

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBERR
</b>                            Not yet, but the Governor of Chamdo,
                            Ngabo Jigme, suggests we must
                            negotiate and offers to go to Peking.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            He is a capable man.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Your prime minsters would argue
                            that such negotiations should take
                            place in Lhasa.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            And then they would concede that the
                            times are desperate and we must go
                            to Peking.  Agreed.  Send Ngabo.

                            Is that all?

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Yes.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Time to study.

     The boy gets up.  The prostrations begin.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Wait.

     Tenzin Gyatso waves a hand. The men get up, awkwardly.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            We are in the last outposts of Tibet.
                            Let's do away with some of this
                            formality.

     The Dalai Lama leaves the room.

     One man still goes down to his knees.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            He is a modern man.
                            Just like he was the last time.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DUSK
</b>
     Ling Rinpoche and Tenzin Gyatso sit together.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "I will liberate those not
                            liberated."
                            I will release those not
                            released.
                            I will relieve those not
                            relieved.
                            May I deliver them to the
                            state of enlightenment."

     The lead soldier of the Indian Ghurka sits on the low table,
     beside Buddha and the tantric instruments.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso walks alone in the mountains.  We see his
     Bodyguards in the distance.  He comes to a chorten (a stupa
     - a small, pagoda-like chapel).  He steps inside.

<b>     INT.  CHORTEN  DAY
</b>
     This is where the Tibetan peasants come to make their
     offerings to Buddha.  It is a small space, whitewashed,
     quiet.  A painting of Buddha adorns one wall and flowers,
     butter lamps, nuts and dried fruit sit before it.

     The boy looks closer.

     There is a photograph pinned to the wall.

     It is a picture of him, as a young boy.  The Incarnate.  The
     Precious One.

<b>     EXT.  CHORTEN  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama ties his piece of colored cloth, his mantra,
     to this public prayer flag.  The beautiful valley lies at
     his feet, the bodyguards keep a polite distance.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     The boy is tinkering, as he listens to the radio.

     It is Peking Radio he is picking up.
     We hear a crackly voice begin a very important announcement.

<b>                                      RADIO VOICE (VO)
</b>                            "Today in Peking, a Seventeen
                            Point Agreement for the peaceful
                            Liberation of Tibet has been signed
                            by Representatives of the Government
                            of the People's Republic of China
                            and the Local Government of Tibet."

     Tenzin Gyatso drops his work.  He turns to face the
     offending radio.

<b>                                      RADIO VOICE (VO)
</b>                            "Over the last hundred years or more
                            aggressive, imperialist forces
                            have penetrated into Tibet and
                            carried out all manner of deceptions
                            and provocations.  Under such
                            conditions the Tibetan nationality
                            was plunged into the depths
                            of enslavement and suffering."

     The boy moves closer to the radio, he appears physically
     ill.

<b>                                      RADIO VOICE (VO)
</b>                            "Today, this enslavement ends.
                            Point One:  The Tibetan people
                            shall unite and drive out
                            imperialist aggressive forces from
                            Tibet. The Tibetan people shall
                            return to the big family of the
                            Motherland - the People's Republic
                            of China."
                            Point Two: The Local Government
                            of Tibet will actively assist
                            the People's Liberation Army to
                            enter Tibet and consolidate the
                            national defense."

     Tenzin Gyatso is stunned.  Frozen.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN (OC)
</b>                            It means we have lost our status
                            as an independent nation.

<b>     INT.  PARLOR, DUNGKHAR MONASTERY  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso, the two members of the Kashag and the Lord
     Chamberlain stand around a clicking telegraph machine.  A
     long message curls along the floor.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Ngabo did not have the state
                            seal.  He could not sign.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Yes, but they say he did.

     A Kashag Member is reading along as the message comes in.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Holiness?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Yes.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            General Chiang Chin-wu, the
                            Chinese representative,
                            is en route to Dromo.
                            He is coming to meet you.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Then, we shall meet.

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE, MONASTERY  DAY
</b>
     View through the telescope:  the Chinese are coming.

     A group of officials are headed in the direction of the
     monastery.  Within the group of Tibetan noblemen - dressed
     in their traditional red and gold silk robes - are three
     men, wearing drab, grey suits.

     The Chinese men closer and we see that one of them is
     smoking a cigarette.

     CLOSE on Tenzin Gyatso's face.

<b>     INT.  PARLOR, MONASTERY  DAY
</b>
     The Chinese Delegation, led by GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU,
     stands waiting in a dimly-lit, yellow room.

     A table holds tea and refreshments.

     The Dalai Lama and his cabinet members are in the room.
     Chairs are provided.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            Dalai Lama.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            General Chiang.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            We bring greetings from Chairman
                            Mao.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Thank you.  Please sit.

     The General does.  So does the Dalai Lama. The other two
     Chinese remain standing.

     Tenzin Gyatso is quiet, reserved.  Awkward.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            Have you heard the terms of the
                            Seventeen Point Agreement?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I have.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            I have a copy for you.

     A document is produced.  We notice that the General is
     wearing a gold rolex watch.  The Dalai Lama notices, too.
     A member of the Kashag takes the document.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            We come in genuine friendship.

     CLOSE on the Dalai Lama.

     He makes no response.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            I am certain you wish to return to
                            Lhasa.

     Tenzin Gyatso remains silent.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            Do you have plans to return soon,
                            Dalai Lama?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Soon.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG CHIN-WU
</b>                            Good.  Our first request is that you
                            allow us to build a road.  You have
                            no roads in Tibet.  We can discuss
                            the plans in Lhasa.  When you return.

     No response.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG-WU
</b>                            Thank you.  We leave now.

     The General rises as the boy remains seated.  With a moment
     of awkward silence, the Chinese depart.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Let me see the agreement.

     It is handed to him.  He opens to the last page and looks at
     the impression made by the state seal.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Counterfeit.

     He closes the document and hands it back to the official.

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE  DAY
</b>
     The boy watches the delegation leave the hilltop station.

     Taktra Rinpoche and the Lord Chamberlain are with him.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I thought he would be some kind of
                            monster, even with horns growing out
                            of his head.  But, he is only
                            a man, just an ordinary human
                            being, like myself.  Life is
                            always a lesson.

<b>     EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DAY
</b>
     Again, an informal meeting is in session.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            Your Prime Ministers, support the
                            proposal that you return to Lhasa.
                            On the opposite hand, some officials
                            urge you not to return.  They
                            believe you should leave now,
                            for India.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            If I were to go into exile, could we
                            expect any serious assistance, from
                            India, suppose?

<b>                                      LORD CHANBERLAIN
</b>                            It is unlikely.  America, perhaps.
                            There is great anti-communist feeling
                            in America.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            At this point, the most likely
                            result of a foreign pact is war.

<b>                                      LORD CHAABERLAIN
</b>                            The Chinese would see such a
                            pact as an open declaration of war.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Tibet, at war?  No.
                            China is close, America is far
                            away.  After countless people
                            die, China would still, always,
                            be close.  We will work
                            with what we have.

<b>                                      KASHAG MEMBER
</b>                            And as for your own safety, Holiness?

     A pause.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I am scared.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Shall we consult the protective
                            deities, Holiness?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            My first and foremost duty is to
                            protect my people.  I feel sure
                            of this.

                            And, things change.  Maybe not right
                            away, maybe not soon.  But I believe
                            this - things will change.

     The boy snaps his fingers.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Impermanence.
                            Our own short lifetimes are
                            not the only valid consideration.

                            I shall return.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso is asleep.  We have not seen him this still,
     this peaceful, in a long time.  He sleeps in the "Buddha~
     pose" - on his right side9 his head resting in his right
     hand.  The wall behind him is white.

     We begin to hear the unique Tibetan music.

<b>     DREAM SEQUENCE
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso rides a grey mule across the empty, mysterious
     landscape of Tibet.

     The boy is back in his own home in Amdo province.

     But, he is not the baby he was when he left there, he is
     sixteen.  His family is together, but they are all the sizes
     and ages they were at the beginning of the story.  Tenzin
     Gyatso is very happy, sitting on the raised platform in the
     kitchen, playing a game with pebbles.

     Taktra Rinpoche - the aged Taktra - enters and sits down
     beside him.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            I hope you will not feel badly
                            about all the things of childhood
                            you missed.

     The boy does not speak, just looks, kindly, at the man.

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                            You lost so much.  I am sorry.

     The boy shakes his head "no".

<b>                                      TAKTRA RINPOCHE
</b>                             Goodbye, Kundun.

     Suddenly, another man speaks;

<b>                                      NORBU THUNDRUP (OC)
</b>                             Goodbye, Kundun.

     Tenzin Gyatso turns his head to see his best friend.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                               (he only mouths it)
                             No!

     And now, the Dalai Lama's Father is seen in a corner of the
     kitchen.

<b>                                      FATHER
</b>                            Goodbye, Kundun.

                                      TENZIN GYATSO (silent)
                            No!

     The boy turns to the sweeper once more, holds out his hand,
     and mouths:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            No, Norbu!

     Reverse on Norbu, fading away.

<b>     DREAM SEQUENCE ENDS
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso eyes burst open.  He is awake.  He is older.
     Twenty.  But, there is something ageless about him, now.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S ROOM, THE POTALA  PRE-DAWN
</b>
     The boy begins this day.

     He is in his old room at the Potala, in Lhasa.  The green
     mural of the Fifth Dalai Lama is behind him.  He has risen.
     from the red-curtained bed.

     The Masters of the Kitchen and the Robe arrive and begin
     their preparations for the day.

     A NEW SWEEPER works in the adjacent room.

     The sun rises.

<b>     EXT.  THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     Like a painting, the beautiful monastery fills the screen
     with its white walls and red roof.

     Shouting is heard.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG (OC)
</b>                            I hate meeting here, this
                            tribute to the past!  I demand
                            a less formal meeting place.

     CLOSE on the red, bulging face of General Chiang.

<b>     INT.  GREAT HALL, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     Behind the General hang fantastic thangkas of the Fifth
     Dalai Lama.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            I am not a foreigner!
                            I refuse to be treated like one.

     The Dalai Lama is shaken by this violent behavior.
     He adjusts his new eye glasses.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You see here thangkas of the
                            Fifth Dalai Lama, the founder
                            of our government.  It is tradition
                            at formal meetings for these
                            thangkas to be hung.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            Superstitions.  Tibet is part of a
                            modern nation.

     The General sits.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            I want the songs stopped.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Songs?  What songs?

     A slight smile.

<b>                                      PRIME MINISTER LUKHANGWA
</b>                            Street songs about the General.
                            Reference to his gold watch.
                            He is right, they are quite
                            insulting.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I have no authority to ban singing
                            in my country.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            You must also do something about
                            the public meetings.  I see this,
                            memorandum circulating, with Tibetan
                            grievances.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            You have cracked a man's skull
                            and that crack has not healed.
                            It is too soon to expect
                            him to be your friend.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            We are simply respecting the terms of
                            the Seventeen Point Agreement.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            Are you, General?

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            We want 2,000 more tons of barley
                            distributed.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            Impossible!  You will bring famine
                            down on the people of Tibet with
                            these insatiable demands!
                            More food, the best land for
                            your soldiers to camp.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            The People's Liberation Army pays
                            for all food and lodging.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            So far, they do.
                            But, the quantity, it does not
                            exist.  You will have to re-
                            evaluate your needs.

     The men glare at one another.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            How much tea do you drink,
                            Prime Minister?

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            It depends on the quality.
                            And, that it be Indian.

     The General leaps to his feet and is about to strike the
     Prime Minister.

     The Dalai Lama runs between then.  He holds the General
     back.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            Why is it necessary for the Chinese
                            to keep so many soldiers in Lhasa?

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            To protect.  To serve you.
                            Chairman Mao wants you to feel that
                            China belongs to you now.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            Chairman Mao can keep China.
                            Just give us back Tibet.

     The General backs away and brings himself under control.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            Plans for absorbing the Tibetan army
                            into the People's Army will soon be
                            finalized.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            I will not approve it.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            Then, we will begin with replacing
                            the Tibetan flag with the flag of the
                            Motherland.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            And we will begin with tearing
                            it down.

     Tenzin Gyatso stands between these furious men.  He raises a
     hand, silently requesting peace.

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE  DAY
</b>
     We hear the sound of martial drums and trumpets and tubas.

     The Dalai Lama is at his telescope.

     Three thousand PLA soldiers march along the shepherds's
     trail.  They march behind huge, red banners of Mao Tse-tung
     and Chu-te.

     This time, the soldiers do look like monsters.  Their faces
     are grey - coated with Tibetan dust.  Their peaked hats look
     vaguely like horns, their tattered, khaki uniforms like
     rough hide.

     Monks line the trail, whipping at the soldiers with their
     long, maroon robes.  Women and children spit at the Chinese,
     clap at them, hoping to chase this evil away.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE POTALA  DAY
</b>
     The Prime Ministers, Lukhangwa and Lobsang Tashi, submit
     their resignations to His Holiness.

     The boy takes the roll of parchment from them.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I am so sorry.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            It must be done.
                            We can no longer meet with the
                            Chinese, they refuse us.
<b>         
</b>     We hear the sounds of those Chinese tubas and trumpets.
     We hear trucks.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I accept your resignations.

<b>                                      LOBSANG TASHI
</b>                            Have you chosen your new Prime
                            Ministers, Holiness?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            There will be no new Prime Ministers.

<b>                                      LUKHANGWA
</b>                            You will face great difficulties,
                            Holiness.

     The boy affixes his small piece of parchment to the document
     and makes a mark on it.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            They have taken away our silence.

<b>     EXT.  KYICHU RIVER  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama, with much pomp and ceremony, walks down a
     white carpet and steps into a coracle.

     The entourage includes:  the Lord Chamberlain, the Kashag,
     His Holiness's Mother and youngest Brother, tutors and
     attendants.

     A hundred monks stand, chanting, on the far bank.

<b>     EXT.  PLAINS OF TIBET  DAY
</b>
     The Fourteenth Dalai Lama rides in a Chinese jeep.  Dust
     surrounds him.  A yellow silk umbrella shades him.

     We see that a road is under construction - a road into
     Lhasa. The first road in Tibet.  The Dalai Llama is travelling
     in the opposite direction.  He is leaving his country,
     traveling on rugged, flattened earth.

<b>     EXT.  BARREN COUNTRYSIDE  DAY
</b>
     The way is tougher here - the Dalai Lama is on mule back.

<b>     EXT.  CHINESE BORDER TOWN, SHINGANG  DAY
</b>
     This is a different land.  There are rice paddies and water
     buffalo.  The altitude and barrenness of Tibet have been
     replaced by greener pastures, jagged mountaintops and
     Chinese natives.

<b>     INT.  AIRPLANE  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso gets his ride in an airplane - an antique. It
     is bumpy and noisy.  He sits on an un-upholstered, steel
     frame.

<b>     INT.  TRAIN  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama travels by train.

<b>     INT.  TRAIN STATION  DAY
</b>
     The train pulls into the station.

     There are hundreds of people awaiting the arrival of the
     Dalai Lama - hundreds of "China pictorial", red-cheeked,
     Chinese communists;  men, women and children, waving little
     red flags.

     Tenzin Gyatso steps off the train and there is a roar of
     approval.   Song breaks out - the People's Republic National
     Anthem.

     The young man is overwhelmed.

     We begin to sense that something is wrong, something is
     artificial.  The people's presence is demanded here today.
     This is a forced display of regard.

<b>     INT.  GREAT HALL OF THE PEOPLE  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama, and his retinue sit in this Great Hall,
     decorated with a portrait of Chairman Mao.

     The Great Helmsman himself is speaking.

     Mao Tse Tung's presence is charismatic.  His delivery is
     powerful - simple, yet firm.  He is spellbinding.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            The mission of China is to bring
                            progress to Tibet.  Develop its
                            natural resources.  Help its
                            people develop democracy.
                            We welcome you, Tibet, back to
                            the Motherland!

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S ROOM, CHINESE GUEST HOUSE  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso snoops around this room.  He opens drawers,
     cabinets, just as a child would.  He finds odd little pieces
     of ceramics, pens, paper.

     He moves to the bathroom, runs a bath.  Hot water.
     Electricity.  This is the modern world.

<b>     INT.  MAO'S OFFICE  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama sits beside Chairman Mao as a horde of
     photographers flash bulbs in their faces.  Mao offers His
     Holiness a plate of Chinese delicacies.

     We notice that Mao's clothes are shabby and old. (His suit
     is always a shade lighter than everyone else's grey-drab).
     His cuffs are frayed, his collar is worn.  But, his shoes,
     are beautifully polished.

     He has exquisite, delicate hands and his skin is shinny.

     Later, Chairman Mao and the Dalai Lama sit across from one
     another.

     Tenzin Gyatso takes notes as Mao speaks.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            I am so glad that Tibet has
                            come back to the Motherland.

     Tenzin Gyatso quietly sips his tea.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            You must inform me at once if
                            any of our people abuse the
                            Tibetans trust and good nature.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I have great hopes for the future of
                            our co-operation.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            It is too early to implement all the
                            clauses of the Seventeen Point
                            Agreement.  We will establish a
                            Preparatory Committee for the
                            Autonomous Region of Tibet.  The pace
                            of reform must meet with the
                            desires of the Tibetan people.
                            Changes must be made slowly, as you,
                            yourself, judge necessary.

     Mao speaks and moves very slowly.  He pants and wheezes.  He
     appears to be sick.  Tenzin Gyatso takes notes.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I am happy to hear you say this,
                            Chairman Mao.  I have created a
                            reform committee to investigate
                            grievances and we have abolished
                            Inherited Tax, and forgiven all
                            money owed the Government by
                            people who are unable to pay.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            Good. Very good.
                            Tibet is a great country.  A
                            a wonderful history.  Long ago, you
                            even conquered part of China.
                            But now you have fallen behind and we
                            want to help you.  In twenty years
                            time you could be ahead of us.
                            Then it will be your turn to help
                            China.

     Tenzin Gyatso writes in his notebook.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            You know, I have great respect for
                            your Lord Buddha.  He was anti-caste.
                            Anti-corruption.  Anti-exploitation.
                            For some, politics and religion can
                            mix.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            For me, I think such a mix is
                            crucial.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            Have a sweet. Made in my home
                            province.  The kind my mother used
                            to make.

     The Dalai Lama accepts.

<b>     EXT.  GARDEN, GUEST HOUSE  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso does physical exercise with a few Chinese
     Bodyguards.

<b>     EXT.  GARDEN, GUEST HOUSE  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso studies with Ling Rinpoche.
     The Lord Chamberlain sits with them.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "If moral discipline is learned
                            from the beginning, one possesses
                            the root for achieving higher
                            rebirth.  A staircase for achieving
                            liberation.  An antidote eliminating
                            misery and sorrow.  Without
                            discipline there is no method."

     Pause.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I am thinking of becoming a Communist
                            Party Member. I like what I see of
                            Marxism.  It is based on equality
                            and justice for all. I believe
                            Chairman Mao wishes the best for
                            our people.  Our path must be
                            non-violence.  Co-operation.

     The Lord Chamberlain simply looks at the young man.  He has
     nothing to say.

<b>     INT.  MAO'S OFFICE  NIGHT
</b>
     There is a knock and Tenzin Gyatso is led into the room.

     Mao is at his desk, working late, smoking heavily.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            Ah, Dalai Lama, thank you for
                            coming so late.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I leave tomorrow.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            Yes, I am aware.  How has your
                            time in China been?

     Tenzin Gyatso sits. He takes out his book and pen, ready to
     take notes.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I have been greatly impressed by your
                            accomplishments.  Industrial
                            progress.  Great efficiency.
                            Your people are capable and
                            courteous.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            You have a lot to learn about
                            organization.  How to draw out
                            people's opinions.  How to make
                            key decisions.  Train your young
                            Tibetans.  When I make contact
                            with you, I want to reach you
                            through a Tibetan.

<b>                                      DALAI LAMA
</b>                            Always.

     Tenzin Gyatso records Mao's words.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            Your attitude is good, you know.
                            I understand you well.
                            But you need to learn this:
                            religion is poison.
                            It undermines the race and it
                            retards the progress of the
                            people.  Tibet has been poisoned
                            by religion.

     The boy cannot look up.  He is in shock.  We see the last
     words he writes:

                            "Religion is poison."

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            Well, let me walk you to your car.

     Tenzin Gyatso slowly gets to his feet.  We must see on his
     face that he realizes it has all been lies.  All the kind
     words and promises, it must all be lies.

     He is unable to raise his face to Mao's.  All he sees before
     him are those shinny shoes, those exquisitely shaped,
     glistening hands.

<b>     EXT.  MAO'S OFFICE  NIGHT
</b>
     Outside this building, a black car is waiting.  It is
     bitterly cold.

     Mao - wearing no hat, no coat, and coughing - opens the door
     for the boy.

     The Dalai Lama shakes the man's hand.

<b>                                      MAO TSE TUNG
</b>                            Take care of your health.

     Tenzin Gyatso gets into the car and Mao slams the door.

<b>     INT.  CAR  NIGHT
</b>
     As the car drives away, Tenzin Gyatso turns to see the
     Chairman, still standing in the cold, still waving goodbye.

     Then, Tenzin Gyatso looks straight ahead and says:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                           He will betray us.

     The view pulls back. The Lord Chamberlain sits beside the
     young man.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBEPIAIN
</b>                           Did you ever doubt it?

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                           I had relinquished doubt.

<b>     EXT.  TENZIN GYATSO'S HOUSE IN AMDO  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama and members of his retinue stand in front of
     his old house in the village of Taktser, Amdo Province.

     The young man smiles as he enters the courtyard.  He pauses
     to look at the prayer flag, flapping in the breeze.

     He opens the front door.

<b>     INT.  HOUSE  DAY
</b>
     A family of relatives inhabits the house.  They bow to His
     Holiness as the young man makes his way to the kitchen.

<b>     INT.  KITCHEN  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso steps into the kitchen - he might have to bend
     his head under the low ceiling.  He laughs his wonderful
     laugh.

     Immediately, a woman approaches with a cup of tea.

     But the hand of a Chinese official reaches out, takes the
     tea and returns it to her.  It is not permitted.

     The woman looks confused.  Tenzin Gyatso is humiliated.

<b>     EXT.  HOUSE  DAY
</b>
     A group has gathered outside the house.

     Tenzin Gyatso goes toward them as they prostrate.  When they
     have finished, he reaches out his hands to take theirs.

     He says to one old woman:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Are you happy?

     The OLD WOMAN says, with tears in her eyes:

<b>                                      OLD WOMAN
</b>                            I am very happy and prosperous
                            under the guidance of the Chinese
                            Communist Party and chairman
                            Mao Tse Tung.

     It is a horrifying announcement.

     The Dalai Lama touches her head.  She weeps and clutches his
     hands.

     The young man looks up, over her head, to Kyeri, the
     protectress mountain of this small village.

     We hear loudspeakers, blaring, in the background -
     trumpeting propaganda about Chairman Mao and the People's
     Liberation Army.

     Tibetan horns blow.  It sounds like a warning.

     CLOSE on a newspaper.  It is a Chinese newspaper and the
     picture on the front page shows a row of severed, Tibetan
     heads.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso puts the paper down.  He removes his glasses
     and turns to his advisor - the grand Lord Chamberlain.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I ask them to stop, to lay
                            down their guns.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            The Khamba's gun is his most prized
                            possession.  I admire them so.
                            They face a modern, well equipped
                            army, and still, they fight.

     The Dalai Lama rubs his face with his hands.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Land reform is underway in Amdo.  The
                            large estates are being confiscated
                            and redistributed. Landlords are
                            being punished.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            A beggar can be called a landlord if
                            he disapproves of the Chinese.

     The men are silent.  We hear the constant sound of trucks
     and cars.

     The Lord Chamberlain is notably pausing.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I have always asked for plain
                            information.  Just the truth.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            The Communists put their guns
                            in the hands of the Khamba children
                            and force the child to kill
                            the parent.
                            They have dropped bombs
                            on the monastery of Lithang
                            in Kham.  It has been destroyed.
                            Women and children, trying to
                            escape from the fighting, have been
                            shot with machine guns, fired from
                            airplanes.

     Again, silence.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            The pursuit of non-violence.
                            Very difficult.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            Non-violence means co-operation
                            when it is possible.  Resistance,
                            when it is not.

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE  DAY
</b>
     His Holiness walks to the terrace.  He aims the telescope.

     Below him he sees a new Lhasa - a Lhasa full of trucks and
     Chinese soldiers.  A traffic island stands in the center of
     an intersection.  The town walls are white-washed.  The
     political posters are gone.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, THE NORBULINKA DAY
</b>
     A small group sits waiting on red velvet chairs: the Dalai
     Lama, the Lord Chamberlain and the Kashag.

     General Chiang enters the room. He finds a chair and pours
     himself a cup of tea.  We cannot help but notice - he is
     armed.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            We have decided that no drastic
                            changes will take place in Tibet
                            for six years. This should make
                            you happy.

     Silence.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            It seems a revolt has
                            broken out in the east.
                            We have decided that the Tibetan
                            army must be used against the
                            Khamba guerrillas.

     The General sips.

     The Dalai Lama answers.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I will not approve it.

     The General looks up, surprised.  It took a great deal of
     courage for the young man to answer back, so determinedly.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            You have bombed on peaceful
                            people.

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            We must deal with these
                            reactionaries!

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            No.  We are peace loving people.
                            I am afraid we cannot trust you.

     The General sputters:

<b>                                      GENERAL CHIANG
</b>                            We are here to heal the people
                            of Tibet.  You need reform.
                            You have no sense of what
                            is good for your people.
                            We are here to liberate
                            you!

     Now, the boy finds his voice.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I burn here, but I am not suppose
                            to let the smoke show.  Yes, we need
                            reform.  The monasteries.
                            Communications.  Schools.  But we
                            want change for Tibet, as Tibet needs
                            it, not for China.

     The General starts to speak but Tenzin Gyatso keeps talking.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Buddha is our physician, General, he
                            will heal us.  Comapssion and
                            enlightnement will set us free.
                            You can not liberate me
                            I can only liberate myself.

     The General leaves the room.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            They will take Lhasa next.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            The people will not allow it.

<b>     INT.  PRAYER ROOM, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     The Nechung Oracle is in full swing.  It is an especially
     vivid and violent spin he is in.  The headdress whips this
     way and that, and finally he says:

<b>                                      NECHUNG ORACLE
</b>                            Where there is no crossing
                            a big river, no fords, no
                            shallows, where the only hope is a
                            boat, and there is no boat...
                            I will put a boat, Kundun.

                            The wish-Fulfilling Jewel will
                            shine from the West.

     It is a strange and confusing prophecy.

<b>     EXT./ INT.  NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     A few random views of the Norbulinka:

     The wandering deer and peacocks.  The fish pond and its
     inhabitants.

     Over these pictures we hear words:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (OC)
</b>                            "I rejoice in the Awakening of the
                            Buddhas, and also in the spiritual
                            levels of their Sons."

     The projection room.  The full sheep pen.  The parents's
     home.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (OC)
</b>                            "And with gladness I rejoice
                            in the ocean of virtue from
                            developing an awakening mind
                            that wishes all beings to be
                            happy..."

     The Yellow Wall.  The Dalai Lama's red room.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (OC)
</b>                            "As well as in the deeds that bring
                            them benefit.

     And now, we hear the voices of a great many people,
     reciting:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b><b>                                      AND OTHERS (OC)
</b>                            "With folded hands I beseech
                            the Buddhas of all directions.
                            To shine the lamp of Dharma
                            For all bewildered in the gloom of
                            misery."

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     In the midst of war, there is beauty.

     The Dalai Lama performs the Kalachakra ceremony.

     It is a beautiful, ornate, colorful ceremony.  A prayer for
     world peace.

     Tenzin Gyatso sits on a platform of cushions, above the
     heads of the abbots and lamas and tutors, above the
     heads of the Tibetan noblemen, and nomads and Khambas and
     pesants from all corners of the land who attend the
     ceremony.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO AND OTHERS
</b>                            "With folded hands I beseech
                            the Conquerors who wish to pass away,
                            to please remain for countless aeons
                            And not to leave the world in
                            darkness."

     The Dalai Lama proceeds with the ceremony.  He handles and
     blesses sacred objects, he lifts his bell and dorge.

     Rice is passed among the people.  Rice is thrown.

     A Tibetan chant is sung.

     Beside His Holiness is a large, yellow silk pagoda.

     The view moves inside the pagoda as the chanting continues.

<b>     INT.  PAGODA  DAY
</b>
     We see a mandala - a beautiful, intricate, sand-painting.

     The home of Kalachakra.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO (OC)
</b>                            "Thus by the virtue collected
                            Through all that I have done,
                            May the pain of every living
                            creature be completely cleared away."

     The whole screen becomes this mandala as the chanting an
     cymbals and deep resonating sounds of the song continue and
     then, a hand comes into the mandala and begins to sweep it
     up.

     Pull back to see that the hand belongs to Tenzin Gyatso.

     Tenzin Gyatso collects the ground particles of Tibetan
     quartz and rock.  He destroys the painstakingly lovely sand
     painting.

     The chanting becomes louder and louder and it mixes with the
     sound of the river.

<b>     EXT.  KYICHU RIVER  DUSK
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso pours the sand into the river.

     We watch the river take color and the mandala floats away.

     This view is overlapped by one of extreme horror.

<b>     DREAM SEQUENCE
</b>
     The lovely Norbulinka garden, the park where opera pageants
     and Kalachakra ceremonies take place, is now, a killing
     field.

     Hundreds of dead, slaughtered monks, lie on the blood-
     drenched ground, under the peach and pear trees.  Chinese
     soldiers move amongst the monks, turning over the dead
     bodies, searching those silent faces.  The Solder we see is
     carrying a photo of His Holiness.  They are searching for
     the Dalai Lama.

     It is a nightmare.

     We hear crying.

<b>     DREAM SEQUENCE ENDS.
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso wakes up.  Shaking, crying, he is alone, in
     the dark.  He can barely catch his breath.

     The screen goes black.

     CLOSE on an invitation:

                            His Holiness, the Dalai Lama of
                            Tibet, is invited to attend a Dance
                            Recital at the newly erected, Great
                            Hall of the Liberation Army.

                            10 March, 1959.

<b>     EXT.  THE POTALA  DAWN
</b>
     A last view of the great monastery.

     We hear the sound of thousands of Tibetan women shouting;

<b>                                      WOMEN (OC)
</b>                            Chinese, GO!
                            Chinese, GO!
                            Chinese, GO!

<b>    EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S RESIDENCE, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
    Tenzin Gyatso steps outside.  The shouting grows louder:

<b>                                      WOMEN AND MEN (OC)
</b>                            Chinese, GO!
                            Chinese, GO!
                            Chinese, GO!

     The young man looks around at the peaceful premises.  People
     we know - uembers of the Kashag, attendants, tutors, the
     Dalai Lama's Mother, sweepers - appear in the garden, one by
     one, all listening to the sounds of a uob gathering outside
     the walls of the Norbulinka.

<b>                                      WOMEN AND HEN (OC)
</b>                            Chinese, GO!
                            Chinese, GO!
                            Chinese, GO!

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     A meeting is in progress.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            The crowd will not disperse
                            until you give your assurance that
                            you will not attend the Chinese
                            festivities.
                            Many who have been invited to dine
                            with the Chinese do not return home.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I will not go.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            I will alert the Chinese delegation.

                            You know, I would never have let you
                            go alone, Kundun.

<b>     INT.  PARENTS'S HOME, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama enters his Mother's home.

     It is very guiet here.  The young man looks at the family
     photographs on the blue walls, the needlework on the table,
     the seven copper bowls in front of the statue of Buddha.

<b>                                      MOTHER (OC)
</b>                            Did you come to tell me we are
                            leaving Lhasa?

     The boy fills the seven bowls with water.  His Mother lights
     the butter lamps.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Do you think I must?

<b>                                      MOTHER
</b>                            You decide.

     He says, softly:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Tibet has never been part of
                            China.  We are different races.
                            We are different cultures.
                            We need change, we know that.
                            But we could do it alone.
                            We were just about to do it
                            alone.

     The young man fills the last bowl with water.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I am afraid I will go.
                            Far, far away.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DUSK
</b>
     The Lord Chamberlain approaches the Dalai Lama as he leaves
     his Mother's house.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            We are now accused of aiding the
                            rebels.  The Chinese said we can
                            expect drastic measures to be
                            taken to crush this revolt.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Arrange for me to speak to the
                            people's leaders.

     The Lord Chamberlain hurries away.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DUSK
</b>
     A last meeting in session.

     The Kashag is present, as are fifty leaders of the
     opposition - rough, tired men.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I fear that there will be great
                            bloodshed if you cannot convince
                            the people to disperse and go home.
                            I am safe.

<b>                                      FIRST LEADER
</b>                            Holiness, the Chinese tried to entice
                            you to their garrison with
                            out protection of bodyguard.
                            Even now, they urge you to come
                            to them for safety. They are
                            bringing more troops and guns and
                            artillery into Lhasa.
                            There are three airplanes waiting
                            outside Lhasa. What do they wait
                            for?  They are planning to kill the
                            Dalai Lama.  Don't you see?

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     The Dalai Lama consults the Nechung Oracle.  Alone.

     The Oracle whispers:

<b>                                      NECHUNG ORACLE
</b>                            Stay.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     It is late at night.  The boy is alone.  He sits in front of
     his altar - meditating.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     The Nechung Oracle is brought in.  The monk quiets himself
     and readies himself for the trance.

     The Dalai Lama waits.  Again, alone.

     Slowly, the trance comes on, the heavy headdress is placed
     on the monk's head, the attendants leave the room and then,
     the Oracle speaks.

<b>                                      NECHUNG ORACLE
</b>                            Stay.  I tell you to stay.

<b>     EXT.  DALAI LAMA'S RESIDENCE  DAY
</b>
     The Lord Chamberlain hurries up the stairs.

     Tenzin Gyatso steps forward, out of the shadows.

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            The Chinese are planning to attack
                            the crowd and shell the Norbulinka.
                            You are asked to indicate on a map
                            where you will be so that the
                            artillery men will not mistakenly
                            aim at you.

     The Dalai Lama walks down the outdoor stairs.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Tell them I will be here.
                            With my people. Right here.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DAY
</b>
     The young man is studying with Ling Rinpoche. Books of
     scripture are stacked in front of him.

     Suddenly, there is a tremendous, loud explosion, and then,
     another.

     Tenzin Gyatso gets up and runs to the window he looked out
     of the day of the earthquake.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  DAY
</b>
     There is shouting and chaos.  The Chinese have begun
     shelling the Norbulinka.  The north wall and the grounds
     directly in front of it are on fire.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S ROOM  DAY
</b>
     This time the Oracle is in the room first.  He is surrounded
     by his attendants and the members of the Kashag, the Lord
     Chamberlain, Ling Rinpoche and various tutors and lamas.

     The tension is thick.  Finally, the Dalai Lama enters.

     Tenzin Gyatso sits.  He waits.  The trance begins, the
     headdress is set upon the medium's head and the Oracle
     begins to dance, and then, he begins to shout:

<b>                                      ORACLE
</b>                            Go!  Go!  Tonight!

     The Oracle staggers forward, snatches up some paper and a
     pen and begins to draw a map, a route, out of Lhasa.  He
     keeps repeating:

<b>                                      ORACLE
</b>                            Go!  Tonight!  Go!

     CLOSE on the map - drawn with a shaking, sweating hand.

     We see mountains, and a pass, and the names of towns along
     the way.

     Tenzin Gyatso rises and goes to the Oracle.  He looks down
     at the map.  The Oracle hands the Dalai Lama the map and
     faints as his frightened attendants rush to loosen the strap
     of the headdress before the poor man chokes.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  DUSK
</b>
     The boy sits at the table, writing.  We can hear the crowd,
     shouting, outside the Norbulinka walls.  We see just a few
     words of the letter:

                            Please do not resist.

                            Take refuge on the far side of the
                            river.

     Attendants pack, quietly and quickly.

<b>     INT.  ALTAR ROOM  NIGHT
</b>
     The chapel of Mahakala.

     We are reminded of secret, sacred moments, from long ago.

     Tenzin Gyatso opens the heavy, creaking door.  The Dalai
     Lama is in disguise.  He is wearing the clothes of a Khamba
     guerrilla - dark, woolen chuba and tall black boots.

     Monks sit on the floor, chanting.  One monk stands by a
     large urn, ladling out butter for the lamps.

     Tenzin Gyatso goes to the front of the room.

     A monk begins to play the cymbals. Another puts the
     Tibetan horn to his lips and blows a long, mournful note.

     The Dalai Lama lays a white silk scarf - a kata - over the
     shoulders of this imposing statue.

     Then, he sits for a moment.

     In the weak light, in the black room, Tenzin Gyatso is lost
     among the other praying monks.

<b>     EXT.  HALLWAY OF RESIDENCE  NIGHT
</b>
     The Dalai Lama walks down the hall.  He says to a sweeper:

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Dim the lights.

     and then he bow bends down, to pat a dog.

<b>     INT.  DALAI LAMA'S PRIVATE ROOMS  NIGHT
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso rolls the thangka of Penden Lhamo and slides
     it into its ancient container.

     The young man places the scroll over one shoulder.

<b>     INT.  ENTRANCE OF RESIDENCE, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     CLOSE on the little cabinet in the corner of the entrance
     hall.

     Tenzin Gyatso's hands open the doors.

     The young man pulls open the drawer which contains the false
     teeth.

     Tenzin Gyatso pulls a rolled kata from his coat.  He tucks
     the lead soldier of an Indian Ghurka into the center of the
     scarf.  He places the bundle in the drawer.

     Then, he adds something.  A sweet.  The kind his Mother
     makes.

     He closes the drawer, and locks it.

     He hides the key, again, behind the small, unobtrusive
     cabinet.

<b>     EXT.  RESIDENCE, STAIRS  NIGHT
</b>
     With a soldier on either side of him, the Dalai Lama
     descends the staircase.

     The Soldiers start to lead him away, but he pauses.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Wait.

     The young man leaves them.

<b>     EXT.  RESIDENCE  NIGHT
</b>
     He walks to the far side of this white building.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I see a safe journey.

     The boy returns to the front steps.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I see a safe return.

     The soldiers wait.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            Now.  I am ready.

     Tenzin Gyatso places the scroll over one shoulder.  A
     soldier lays a rifle over the other one.

<b>     EXT.  GARDENS, NORBULINKA  NIGHT
</b>
     The three men walk quietly through the empty gardens.  We
     hear the sounds of the crowd grow louder.

<b>     EXT.  WALL  NIGHT
</b>
     The soldiers pause, look to His Holiness.  Tenzin Gyatso
     removes his glasses, puts them in his bag, then nods - and
     the soldiers open the gate.

<b>                                      SOLDIER
</b>                            Move aside, tour of inspection,
                            move aside.

     Of course, we see only a fraction of the crowd - angry men
     and women.

     A man steps beside His Holiness.

     Tenzin Gyatso looks up - face to face.

     It is the Khamba bodyguard, the monk who guarded him so many
     times.  The man with the horrible face.

<b>                                      KHAMBA BODYGUARD
</b>                            Move aside, let us through.
                            Move aside!

     The Dalai Lama is between the soldiers, shouldering his own
     gun.  The Bodyguard falls in behind.

     The little group makes its way through the crowd.

     EXT.  TRIBUTARY OF ThE KYICHU RIVER  NIGHT

     In the same place where the little Tenzin Gyatso tentatively
     tested one rock, the escape party crosses on the slippery,
     stepping stones.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  NIGHT
</b>
     The small party makes its way across a bit of countryside.

     People are camped here - Khambas, farmers, nomads.  The
     Dalai Lama crosses to safety - unnoticed.

<b>     EXT.  KYICHU RIVER  NIGHT
</b>
     Coracles await.

     The Dalai Lama climbs in, the Lord Chmaberlian sits beside
     him.  The soldiers push off. The Khamba Bodyguard stands on
     the bank, alone.

     Every splash of the oars sounds like it could wake the dead.

     Tenzin Gyatso looks back.  He puts on his glasses.

     He sees camp fires and the glow of torches.  He hears echoed
     voices.

     He looks up.  He sees the stars and the moon and that
     incomparable Tibetan sky.

     He looks forward.

     He sees mountains.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I have always loved mountains.

     He is handed a steaming cup of tea.

     And then, a cloud passes over the moon.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  NIGHT
</b>
     On horse back, the party makes its way up a mountain pass.

     There are more members now - Tenzin Gyatso has joined those
     who left ahead of him - members of the Kashag, tutors, his
     Mother, his Brother.

     It is tough going.  The ground seems like quick sand with
     every step a struggle.  When the horses have disappeared
     from sight, a sand storm arises, wiping away their tracks.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  NIGHT
</b>
     The party passes above an encampment of Chinese soldiers.
     They are not seen.

<b>     EXT.  COUNTRYSIDE  DAY
</b>
     The party travels through the emptiness.

<b>     EXT.  MOUNTAIN PASS  DUSK
</b>
     His Holiness walks beside his horse.

     He joins other members of the group standing on a ridge.

     Tenzin Gyatso picks up a rock and throws it over the side.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            "Right will be victorious."

     And now, the others do the same.  The Lord Chamberlain says:

<b>                                      LORD CHAMBERLAIN
</b>                            "The Gods will be avenged!"

<b>     EXT.  OUTSKIRTS OF TIBET  DAY
</b>
     The Dalai Lama sits before a low table set up on this
     desolate border.

     A document is before him.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I repudiate the Seventeen Point
                            Agreement

     With a slap of the State Seal of Tibet, this is done.

     The Lord Chamberlain removes this document and replaces it
     with another.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I constitute the Government
                            of Tibet, the only legal
                            authority in the land.

     The seal comes down hard once more.  It is done.

<b>     EXT.  BORDER  DAY
</b>
     A sick and tired Tenzin Gyatso makes the last leg of his
     trip on the back of a black yak.

     Before him, through the light rain, we see a small bamboo
     arch erected in the middle of nowhere.  Six Indian GHURKAS,
     wearing floppy, jungle hats and heavy, British boots, stand
     at attention.

     The Dalai Lama, on his black yak, passes under this babboo
     gateway as the Indian Soldiers raise their guns in salute.

     An Indian soldier goes to the yak and helps the sick man
     from his mount.

     Tenzin Gyatso stands, barely able to hold himself on his
     feet.  His hand rests on the yak's back.

     The Indian soldier steps closer and, knowing he is breaking
     protocol, he whispers:

<b>                                      SOLDIER
</b>                            With all respect, may I ask?
                            Who are you?

     The young man smiles at the Soldier - a man who looks like
     the lead soldier come alive.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            What you see before you is
                            a man.  A simple monk.

<b>                                      SOLDIER
</b>                            Are you the Lord Buddha?

     Pause.

<b>                                      TENZIN GYATSO
</b>                            I think I am a reflection,
                            like the moon, on water.
                            When you see me, and I try
                            to be a good man, see
                            yourself

<b>     INT.  A ROOM IN INDIA, FOOT OF THE HIMALAYAS  DAY
</b>
     Tenzin Gyatso unpacks.  He is dressed in maroon robes, his
     arms bare.

     He places some books on a table next to his tinkering
     equipment.  He lifts a heavy parcel.

<b>     EXT.  TERRACE  DAY
</b>
     CLOSE on the young man's beautiful hands as he sets up his
     telescope.

     The tripod is erect.  The body is attached. The eyepiece is
     adjusted.

     And then, this boy, this man, this simple monk, aims, to
     takes a look, at a bigger world.



     On a black screen, a card reads:

                            The Dalai Lama has not yet
                            returned to Tibet.

                            He hopes one day to make the journey.


   
Beijing.