“Try Limca!”

This was all his idea — all I received was a waved invitation to shoot.

The Golden Temple

I’ve been talking about it so much, I thought you would want a chance to actually see the Golden Temple. Here it is at sunset.

Crocodile

The Sikhs of the Golden Temple are many and varied. Though everyone is required to cover their heads (ours were covered with saffron bandanas we had bought outside) and remove their shoes, some take the rules as fashion inspiration. These men are Nihang (translated as “crocodile”) and are considered to be the Sikh “warrior saints”. The electric blue color is the Sikh color of war, and the saffron is the one of peace (the Nihang are generally dressed entirely in blue, all the time). Extra photo after the jump.

The Children of the Golden Temple

James has made light of the fact that I am a kind of “super gora” wherever I go in India. It sure helped us crash that wedding. But it also helps me in another way — after I get a giggling, self-conscious look from someone, they will almost always stay posed long enough for me to take a picture. In this case, there were four of them.

Teyaar-Bar-Teyaar

This blog post finds us in perhaps the wildest state in India: Punjab.

I fully expected us to end up in the Punjab, for the simple reason that our friend Danish is Punjabi. In Delhi, we would eat our food surrounded by young turbaned Sikhs, friends of Danish’s, who would try to explain to us how Punjabi food is completely different. We would walk past gurudwhalas (Sikh temples), where Punjabi warriors carrying swords and spears would file by in procession, dressed in both the saffron colors (which denote peace) or royal blue (which denotes war). Here in the Punjab, we have learned the phrase “Teyaar-Bar-Teyaar”, which describes the Sikh warrior’s constant state of preparedness for battle.

Punjabis can best be described as the Texans of India. They think India is great, but their Punjabi pride is the defining aspect of their identity. As our friend Manbhir tried to explain, “you cannot describe it; you can only experience it. If you’re lucky enough to be born Punjabi.”

Yesterday we had the incredible privilege of visiting Amritsar, the holiest site in all of Sikhdom (Danish’s father described it as a Sikh Jerusalem). There, we saw the Golden Temple which houses the Guru
Granth Sahib, the holy book of the Sikh religion. It is the most magnificent single book I have ever seen, and by far the largest.

We partook in all the wonders of the Golden Temple; we washed our hands and feet in the holy waters that are meant to heal the sick. We ate at the Communal Kitchen where all eat the same meal together, representative of Sikh’s egalitarian philosophy and humankind’s inherent unity. We bought (and are currently wearing) kadda, the Sikh bracelets which symbolize being ‘handcuffed to G-d’, as our friend Mahesh put it.

Afterwards, we visited the site of the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre. In 1919, British soldiers opened fire on a crowd of unarmed Sikhs, killing over a thousand protesters. The soldiers stopped firing only when they ran out of bullets. The resulting anger and shock fueled the burgeoning India independence movement.

In the Punjab, Elliot’s celebrity status has become more pronounced. People continue to point at him and shout “Gora!”. Others have asked to have their pictures taken with him. I receive less attention; our Punjabi friends believe that this is because I can pass for Indian, or at least half-Indian. Those of you who know my idiosyncracies will not be surprised that I took this as an undeserved compliment. However, I suspect that Elliot’s appeal comes from the fact that he is a super-gora, with his red hair and pale complexion. Beside him, I’m just some white kid.

We have seen several other goras in the Punjab, but the feeling of comradery I expected to appear between us strangers in a strange land has not  occurred. I suspect that it is because so many people come here for such different regions. We have seen many goras that, Danish explained, are here to take the shortcut to enlightenment: that is to say, Indian holy places coupled with mind-altering substances. Others have taken different paths; we passed several gora Sikhs, dressed all in white. I would have loved to sit down with them and listen to why they made such a radical life decision, to give themselves so fully to a religion that certainly had little to do with their original spiritual background. But the atmosphere of the Golden Temple, I felt, discouraged such intrusion into others’ private contemplation.

More posts are forthcoming regarding the generous Tiwana family. On the 4^th, we will be in Bombay. Until then,

Jo bole so nihal!

Sat Sri Akal!

-James and Elliot