Silly hats and glowing temples
Trip Start
May 01, 2010
1
22
23
Trip End
Jul 15, 2010
Amritsar, Punjab, India
Saturday, June 26, 2010
We made our descent from the Himalayas into the steaming hot plains of the Punjab. Treating ourselves to the luxury of a taxi (at $50 for a 6 hour drive it was hard to turn down), we arrived in relative comfort. On our way in we saw young Sikh men in orange turbans rushing up to buses and trains with cups of water and orange drinks. We didn't understand what they were doing, and later were told that it is some kind of religious duty to provide water to thirsty people. This was our first taste of Sikhism, and since it has been well documented that White People like religions that their parents don't belong to (see: Stuff White People Like by Christian Lander), this religion has swiftly become our favourite among those we have encountered in India.
There are a few reasons why we like Sikhism so much. Firstly, they welcome all to their places of worship. We love the Hindu and Jain temples, but many of them don't allow non-believers into their temples. I can understand that some people may be disrespectful, but most people that have come so far aiming to learn about another culture have some idea of the protocols surrounding such places. When we have been allowed in, the places have been beautiful and fascinating, but more often than not we are shooed away abruptly at the doors. Sikhs, however, have an open door policy, which covers entering the temples, sleeping in the temple dormitories, and eating in the free temple dining halls. The Sikhs we have met have been warm, welcoming, and thrilled to tell us about their beliefs and customs.
The Punjab state is the centre of Sikhism, where 61% of its population is Sikh, and the beating heart of the region is Amritsar, home of the Golden Temple. People make pilgrimages from all over the world to visit the Golden Temple, a shimmering building that appears to be floating in the centre of an iridescent pool, surrounded by sharp white structures containing memorials, prayer rooms, kitchen, and dining hall. Worshipers sit cross-legged around the pool, gazing at the gold-plated edifice lovingly, often for hours on end. Periodically men and children will slowly sink into the holy water to rinse themselves of their impurities. (Women can also do this in the privacy of an enclosed bathing hut). People are quiet and reverent. The queue to get into the temple itself is long. Arriving at dawn, we joined the line of people carrying offerings of food on banana leaves and patiently waited. Luckily we had all the time in the world, because, as we reached the halfway point, the morning prayers began and we stopped moving to wait for them to finish. Hundreds of people stood on the narrow walkway across the pond, and for once in this country, nobody pushed us out of the way or seemed impatient to move ahead of us. (The only culturally unusual thing for us was that the woman behind me began to use me as a resting post. I found myself feeling irritated by this until I saw how old she was, and then I just found it amusing as she sank her face deeper into my back with absolutely no shame). When we began to move again, we found ourselves flowing through the main part of the temple in a constant stream of people. In the main section, musicians are seated around the holy book (which is covered with an ornate cloth to keep it hidden), singing the rags or verses of the scripture. The music is soothing despite our lack of comprehension.
The interior of the Golden Temple is a medley of colours, intricately painted tiles, narrow staircases, centuries-old hand painted wallpaper, gleaming marble, and thick gold leaf. It is beautiful. We spent some time soaking in the atmosphere, shaking brave children's hands, smiling at shy children, and avoiding drinking water from the Holy pool, even though we were encouraged to. On our way out, however, we did take the edible offering and swallowed it quickly. This offering is the culmination of all the offerings brought to the temple, mixed in one large pot, heated, and served out to everyone as they leave.
Everyone wanted to talk to us in Amritsar. Although we have been asked for our photo in every state that we have visited, here I felt that people really wanted to know us. They were always surprised and disappointed that we didn't speak Punjabi or Hindi, but eager to get to know everything they could about us. In other places, women were too shy to approach me. But in Amritsar, women, always in groups of two or more, would slowly come up to me, always giggling, and begin a conversation. Or, they would catch my eye and eagerly beckon me to sit with them. At the border ceremony, which I will describe shortly, we had to go through security checks. Women and men always go through separate security checks in India. I was with an American, Sarah, and another Canadian, Mary. The three of us went into the enclosed area with two female border guards, in uniform and armed with rifles, for our pat-down. As soon as we were away from the men, our guards burst into giggles and questions - "Where are you from? Do you speak Punjabi? Hindi? You like India? The men - are they your husbands?" Sarah and I said, yes, husbands, and Mary said that she was with her boyfriend. The guards looked heartbroken for her. "Only boyfriend?? Oh.... too bad..." They shook their heads in sympathy - not that Mary needed sympathy for this state of affairs, of course, but I am sure that trying to explain that unmarried couples were completely normal and accepted in Canada would be lost in translation!
After spending some peaceful, reflective time in the Golden Temple, chilling to the sounds of the sitar and drums, we made our way to the dining hall for breakfast. We had arrived at the temple shortly after 5am, so at 7:30 we were ready to eat. We soon discovered that the first meal was served at 8am, but we were welcome to chai outside the dining hall first. One of the features of Sikh temples is the Langar, or free dining hall. Every day meals are served that are free to anyone visiting the temple. At the Golden Temple, 60 - 80,000 meals are served every day. That's a lot of lentils to cook. The meals generally consist of a couple types of lentils (dal), rice, and chapati. They even have chapati-making machines! As it neared 8am, we joined the hundreds of people waiting for food as the crowd crushed forward toward the doors. In a mad rush we managed to get plates and cutlery. We were herded like cows into an enormous dining hall lined with mats on the floor. Scrambling for space, we claimed our seats and waited for the food to be served. People ran up and down the rows of people carrying baskets of chapati, jugs of water, and steaming pots of dal. The food was thrown on to our plates with a relative amount of precision: although most of it landed on the mark, there was a significant portion of lentils that ended up on the floor. When we were finished, we were ushered out quickly, as the next group of people was waiting to enter the hall. A quick mop of the floor and they were sent in.
Outside the dining hall we witnessed what it takes to prepare and clean up after such a meal. We passed our dishes to the group of dishwashers who literally threw them into a large bucket for an initial rinsing. They were then passed off to someone who passed them to the large row of sinks nearby. The clamor of the metal plates crashing into one another was deafening, forcing us to shout in order to be heard. Nearby was one of the large, open kitchens. Huge piles of wood lay ready to stoke the fires burning furiously under gigantic cauldrons of dal. Women and men sat in rows preparing the dough for the bread. Everyone involved is a volunteer, and although we could have joined in, I think our lack of skills in rolling out chapatis would have been a hindrance rather than a help.
The temple was a beautiful, inspiring, and fascinating place to visit, and everything about it was in contrast to our other pivotal experience of Amritsar: The Wagah border crossing ceremony. Wagah, a small village, was divided down the middle during the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. It is the only road border crossing between the two countries and has undergone a number of changes throughout its rocky history: for a long time goods vehicles were not allowed to cross into Pakistan, and porters would carry permitted items across on foot. Every night for the last 6 decades at sunset, the Border Security Force (B.S.F) of India and the Pakistan Rangers soldiers parade up and down the road on their respective sides of the border leading up to the pivotal moment when the two sides shake hands and lower their flags. Apparently in the past the two sides have become quite aggressive towards each other in the process. Over the years, as people would gather on each side to watch the ceremony, the two countries decided to promote it as a tourist attraction. As a result of this conscious step, and greatly aided by the fact that the soldiers are wearing the most ridiculous uniforms ever, the whole thing has been turned into a silly entertainment. The bleachers on each side were packed, with families crammed together on the Indian side, and men and women separated on the Pakistan side. Music blared out through loudspeakers, the Indian music competing with the Pakistani music, and the crowds cheering and singing along. The mood was that of a sporting event, except that there would be no winners - although you would never know that by the reactions of the crowds. A spontaneous dance party broke out on the Indian side, the road filling with women in colourful clothing bouncing around, bangle-adorned wrists high in the air, bhangra style. Foreigners were seated behind the VIP section, and when a group of foreign women ran down to join the dancers, the crowds went nuts. I eventually joined in myself. It was quite the celebration.
When the actual ceremony began, it was hard to keep the looks of incredulity from our faces. The soldiers lined up and each side took turns kind of moaning into a microphone. The speaker would take a deep breath and start - "Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooah!" This went on for some time. Periodically a different soldier would rush out, march as quickly as possible towards the gate, swinging his legs up fully horizontally to his body, and then return. The gates between the two countries were opened, handshakes shared, salutes exchanged, and a lot more silly walking and but-wiggling. All the while, each set of "fans" cheered their side on almost hysterically. Eventually we came to the climax of the event, when the two countries' flags were lowered simultaneously. With a final "Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooah!" the whole 30-minute process was over, and the fans made a mad dash for the gates. Leaving the area we once again had the sensation of being in a sports stadium, pouring out with the jubilant fans after a big win. I still haven't figured out what we won.
To see a short glimpse of this truly bizarre event, go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9y2qtaopbE
As we left, we asked our new Canadian and American friends to try to picture what a similar event between our two countries would encompass? We came up with a mixture of images: Mounties looking serious but grinning ever so slightly at the antics of the hat-and-spurs-clad cowboys on the other side? American military personnel with large guns pointed at Canadians on horseback? Canadians in hockey gear ready to throw off their gloves and fight with American football players? The only thing we decided on for certain was the location: it would have to happen at Niagara Falls. I will be writing a letter to our respective governments to see what can be done about starting this event.
Comments
Hey you two!
I can totally relate to the Amritsar/Wagah experience. Michael and I were there last year. Wow!!!! Go to Darjeeling if you can. It blew us away and it's not too hot!!
Thanks for the updates on your travels.
-Heather