Day Trip: Amritsar

We packed up and made an early day trip to go to Amritsar in Punjab to see the Golden Temple, which is the main Sikh pilgrimage.
The carride took 7 hours one way, which actually isn’t too bad in India. Most trips anywhere seem to take at least 4 or 5 hours in this country. I think this is because of a handful of reasons:
1 – The cars are not typically top-notch quality
2 – No one really goes over 40 km, it seems
3 – All of the roads go through cities and towns, so even if you are not far away from your destination, you will probably get caught in traffic somewhere
4 – Cows
5 – Poorly paved or completely dirt roads that are waterlogged or full of potholes
6 – Rickshaws

That said, the carride was not great. The driver refused to put on the AC while in Punjab, unless we paid another 500 Rs. We refused, and while the temperature crept with the humidity we begrudgingly sweat more bullets. Might I add that Punjab is essentially desert, which is a great difference from the Himalayas in all possible ways. Finally the driver relented halfway through the trek and put on the AC for only 200 Rs. He then did not take us directly to the Golden Temple; instead, he plopped us inside of an arbitrary parking lot a 10-minute rickshaw ride away. Let’s just say that, with all of Maulin and Tara’s luggage in tow to haul all the way there, we were not very happy with him.
So we got into the Golden Temple a bit late, and missed the last available beds they were going to have for us in their temple’s dormitory. We were frantic. So we found ourselves running around with luggage to all of the nearby hotels to find a good deal for a night room while we stayed in town. We ended up ushered into a hotel (CJI) where they showed us many rooms and bargained the price with us. We were in a rush and did not want to meddle too much with rooming, so we hastily picked a room and dropped our luggage only to run right out, dripping with sweat.

Why were we running, you might be wondering.
To go to the India-Pakistani border, of course.
Now, parental units, before you scream and pull hair, I must emphasize that everything I did was completely safe and actually really enjoyable. What happens on the border of the two countries (in Atari) every evening at dusk is what they call the Border Crossing Ceremony. The guards on both sides of the country perform something like a dance on either side, and the border gates open up for about 5 minutes and they do a militaristic dance with each other (rifles, sabers, and all). Music plays, people sing and chant, and people dance everywhere on the street. Each side has a set of stadium seats, where people cram in to watch and cheer on the spectacle, shouting with love for their designated country.
It reminded us three of a football game, really. Cheering sides for “opponents” during they have a shout/dance off. Popcorn and drinks were shelled out, pictures and shouting were constant, and everyone’s shirts are clinging onto dripping bodies from the body and outside heat in the desert land. What was really interesting about the different sides, when comparing the two, was that the Indian side had FAR more people on its side than the Pakistani side. The Pakistanis were segregated on opposite sides of the bleachers: men on one side, women on the other. Also, India was playing cheerful Bollywood pop songs for people to dance, while Pakistan was playing propaganda-like government nationalist jingles while designated flag holders danced for everyone else to sit and watch.
We were really lucky to be a white foreigner that day, too. We got there just before the event began, and a bunch of little kids dragged us to some guard on the side to show us the “Foreigner VIP Seating” section. That’s right, the Indians had to sit in the back of the bleachers while all of the foreign “white” folks got front row seats to the whole spectacle. We were late enough that they actually planted us three on the street curb, and I was so close to the event and border that I was sitting right behind the rear of a very sweaty guard.
Maulin kept getting yelled at by the guards because he kept standing up to take pictures with his massive camera. The only problem is that Maulin looks – well, in fact, he is - Indian, and they kept yelling at him in either Punjabi or Hindi and trying to get him to go to the Indian section. He had to pull out his passport a few times and yell “NO HINDI! ENGLISH!” before they got the point.
After the event, I got right to the gates and took a picture. I was literally spitting distance from Pakistan, or even sweating distance (which was actually happening quite a bit). If I had fallen, my head would have been in another country.

Completely riled from the event, we got back in Amritsar to eat dinner at The Brothers, which is apparently this really famous Punjabi diner with Punjabi dhaba. We had really large Thalis, and I excitedly sucked down papri chaat for the first time since I landed in India.

We got back late to the really magnificent Golden Temple to look at the grounds while the temple was lit up. As a note to those who wish to come to this place, please note that walking into this place with a tank top and short shorts is an OK thing. I was fully covered, with pants and a long sleeved kurti. And you must enter the temple with a head covering. I had bought a shawl before arriving for this matter, and even Maulin had to buy a bandanna to wear into the temple. Also, you cannot come in with shoes (which they actually have a safe depository for you to place your shoes), and before walking up the steps, there’s a pool where you must wash your feet.
Even though there are very strict rules to this place, the Sikhs (particularly at the temple) are super gentle people, and incredibly kind. They serve free food and chai all day and night to pilgrims and visitors, regardless of whether or not you are Sikh. In fact, anyone can also help and volunteer at the temple. You can help clean dishes, serve chai or food, make the food, or help clean the premises. All you have to be is respectful, and they will take you in as one of their own.

There is a man singing live that is aired on the speakers throughout the temple 24 hours a day. This gives the whole place an incredible energy and sacredness to it. The actual area is mostly white marble and a kind of fortress wall that encloses all of the Sikhs in a large courtyard. In the middle of the courtyard is a very large pool with big fish swimming in it. People are bathing in the pool, and praying. People are praying everywhere, nonstop.
In the middle of the pool is the actual Golden Temple. It is a small, but still breathtaking, golden-laden building with Middle Eastern influence. People line up all throughout the day to walk in and pray for a few minutes in the temple. Around the pool is where the sacred texts are put in rooms, where men sit and read all day long. At night, the edges of the pool and fortress walls are lined with pilgrims sleeping on the marble floor in clumps, regardless of religion, sex, or race. The whole energy of this place is super intense, and the constant worship that goes on here humbled me.

We took a nap and woke up just after sunrise to go back to the temple to see morning prayers. The quiet, solemnity of the temple at night was replaced by overwhelming solemn, pious praying by thousands of Sikhs. Everyone is praying, kissing the ground, singing, praying, and praying. We walked around and saw the Golden Temple glitter and glisten in the new sunlight, and I sat down to watch the lines of people pray in the temple.
I was overcome by the experience and energy of the whole place that I began to cry under my shawl. It was not an uncontrollable cry, and it was probably aided by my lack of sleep, but tears streamed down my face for a little bit, while I sat alone and explored the vibes radiating all around me.
As I sat alone, a very tall, large Sikh man dressed as a guard (staff in hand) came to me and peered down to ask, “Punjabi?!” No, I’m not a Punjabi, as I wiped away tears. “No Punjabi? Hindi…?” Another man comes over to peer with him and ask again, “Hindi?!” This was the first time I had ever in my entire life been asked if I was Indian. Nayee, I’m no Indian, nor do I look it. But they were very friendly and asked me where I was from, and if I liked the temple. I loved it.