"A Sorry Business"

In the month that Tibet has been under Chinese Red attack, much of the news from the roof of the world has come from yak-drivers, muleteers and porters. Their hearsay and gossip, picked up at Kalim-pong, India's gateway to Tibet, became grist for a notable rumor mill (see PRESS) that had Lhasa lost, the Dalai Lama in flight, his army destroyed, his lamaseries in turmoil.

Last week wireless messages from In dia's Agent S. Sinha in Lhasa reported that the Tibetan capital had not yet been captured. No one could say exactly how far off the Communists were; it could be 60 to more than 200 miles. Newsmen tried to check further with the Tibetan mission in Kalimpong. Lhasa's taciturn envoys said that they knew little of what might be happening at home. Told that the Reds were reported less than 100 miles from his country's capital, Finance Minister Trepon Shakabja, head of the mission, blandly replied: "Well, if that is so, it is a sorry business." Apparently the Communists had stopped to rest or wait for supplies over the rugged caravan tracks and lofty passes from China. Meanwhile, the boy Dalai Lama and his elderly Regent Takta Rimpoche still seemed to be in Lhasa, accord ing to Sinha; they debated flight to India, last-ditch resistance, or submission to the Chinese. From Lhasa's Potala Palace to the U.N.'s Security Council went a mesage asking for help against "unprovoked aggression." There seemed not a chance.

The general feeling, from New Delhi to Washington, was that the affair was deplorable, but nothing could be done since Tibet had long been recognized as coming under Chinese "suzerainty." Said the U.S.

Ambassador in New Delhi, Loy W. Hen derson: "It is a matter for China and Tibet to decide."

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