Hello again! Since our last conversation, I have indeed been to Amritsar, so I have some fun adventures to tell you about. As promised, I got up at 4am on Friday morning and walked down to meet Patrick and get the 5am bus from Dharamsala bus station to Amritsar. We got into Amritsar at about 11am, and were immedaitely latched onto by an autorickshaw-wallah, who was determined to take us to the temple for just Rs20, and suggested we check out his hotel on the way. I make a point of never staying anywhere with a name like 'Tourist Guest House', so we found a different wallah to take us to the temple. By the temple, I mean the Golden Temple – the centre point of the entire Sikh religion. We went in straight away, so I'll tell you about it now.
You have to remove your shoes and socks, and cover your head (we purchased novelty Golden Temple branded headscarves) before going in. You go through a small pool of water to clean your feet and head on in. The temple complex is a huge square pool of water with a walkway around the outside and the Golden Temple in the middle, connected to the walkway by a long bridge. Around the outside of the walkway are various sparkling white buildings, including another temple building, the Akal Takht. The Golden Temple itself is gold on the top half, and white marble inlaid with pieta dura (the same carving style as the Taj Mahal, so my guidebook tells me) for the lower half. We didn't go into it at this point, because the queue was ridiculous.
We left the complex in search of accommodation. The LP's suggestion, that the post office at the temple would be able to furnish us with rooms, turned out to be wrong. This was made more annoying by the fact that it took ages to find the post office! We chose to stay away from the grimy looking free dorms for foreigners. We later discovered that a host of buildings all named 'Sri Guru Something Something Niwas' were accommodation houses connected with the temple. Instead, we went and got a room in a hotel very close by at a fairly reasonable price.
We returned to the temple. It is a really peaceful and serene place, even though there it isn't too quiet (there are lots of people walking and talking, and the Sikh holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib, is sung out over a PA system from about 5am until 9.30pm). It is the sort of place where you can (we did) just sit and enjoy it. Unlike many big religious tourist draws (such as the Sistine Chapel) it hasn't lost its religious feel; it is still very much a place of genuine religious feeling and belief. The Golden Temple itself is beautiful, and rather entrancing. The complex is guarded by Sikhs with spears in orange robes (the Sikhs, that is, not the spears).
We went along to the langer, a 24 hour free kitchen and dining hall of phenomenal proportions, for some lunch. It wasn't exotic, but it was very very good. We were given as much dhal, chapati, and kheer (a rice pudding like dish) as we could eat. Everyone, regardless of who they are, sits together to eat in the langer. It's an amazing display of equality and generosity, the likes of which I don't think I've ever encountered. When we went along, it was lunchtime, so the place was packed. Afterwards, we had a look at the kitchens and washing-up facilities, which were equally stunning. I can safely say that the temple brought me to tears as we went past the army of onion choppers.
Next, we checked out the Sikh museum in the temple complex – a gallery of gory paintings of Sikhs killing and being killed and a whole load of photos of prominent Sikhs (including the photos of 13 Sikh martyrs having just killed themselves – very strange and unnerving). We stayed at the temple to watch sunset and also went inside the temple itself. It was magnificently decorated inside, with patterns of gold adorning the ceilings. There were four priest in the centre of the ground floor, who dealt with singing the book (with a host of musicians), sorting out donations, and other such things. Upstairs was a small gallery allowing you to sit down and watch the proceedings below (down there you get rushed through). Another set of stairs takes you onto the roof, from where you can see the whole temple complex. I sat just outside the temple for a bit, and was surprised (but delighted) to be given a free sweet of some sort. It was a crumbly orange ball which possibly had almonds in it somewhere along the line and was very sweet and tasty.
We went to a restaurant for dinner before returning to the temple complex to watch the book being put away in the Akal Takht. First of all, a group of people circle the walkway praying loudly, playing a horn, and waving the Singh flag. They then take a golden litter out of a special room and, praying and singing loudly, festoon it with flowers. It is then carried up the bridge to the Golden Temple where the book (the original copy of the Guru Granth Sahib) is place inside. They come back down the bridge (slowly, due to all the singing and prayers) and all the Sikhs do their level best to try and help carry the litter, which the priests allow for about a second before moving you away. They continue up to the Akal Takht, where a priest takes the book inside on his head to a special locked chamber where it is kept overnight. With much ceremony, praying, singing and kneeling, the book is put to bed (literally) and the ceremony is over. On the Friday night, I watched from outside, then went into the Akal Takht, but could see very little due to the crowds. The temple itself is then shut (though the complex, including the langer, stays open 24 hours a day).
The ceremony was very impressive, and after that I just sat around the perimeter and watched for a while. I was guarded, part of the time, by one of the Sikh guards (that is to say, he stood in front of me, spear in hand). When he left, he was replaced by five Punjabi kids, who sat around me and barely said a word. The usual format with Indians is thus: 1) what country?, 2) cricket, 3) name (possibly), and we experienced this a lot in Amritsar.
The next day, we got up at 4am (again!) and went to the temple to watch sunrise. It wasn't massively impressive as they left the lights on at the temple until it was quite light already. We went to the langer, but seeing that it was just soup on offer, went for breakfast elsewhere. The morning was spent sightseeing – first the Mata Temple. This place was fairly crazy. It was full of pictures (and a statue) of an old, ugly, facial-haired, cock-eyed woman who we guessed to be Mata (which means mother). To circumnavigate the temple upstairs, you have to crawl through a tunnel, paddle through ankle-deep water and go through rooms of mirrors and coloured plastic, which give a sort of odd retro '70s disco feel to the place. There were a lot of statues from across the country too. It was a fun and funny place.
After a little wander, we then went on to Ram Bagh, which has a “must-see” (LP) museum. Our cycle-rickshaw driver went the wrong way (we had to correct him) and headed over the railway tracks. The barrier was down for an oncoming train, but everyone was just going underneath it. The “must-see” museum was a dilapidated building that was closed for renovations. Which was nice. So instead we headed, by foot, to the Sri Durgiana Mandir (stopping first at the Crystal Restaurant, an LP recommendation, and running when we saw the prices on the menu). The Durgiana temple is a dirty knock-off of the Golden Temple. Seriously. It is an unashamed copy of the Sikh masterpiece. And it's a bit rubbish. Its golden temple is only gold from the front, and the temple is far smaller. The walkway has none of the ornate buildings around it, and the whole place is much emptier. There are a few other religious buildings around it. We were astounded by just how much of a filthy rip-off it was. Inside the temple were some more mirror pictures (an Amritsar specialty it seems) and two child gods. I took a photo of them and they waved at me.
Next stop was Jallianwala Bagh, the site of the 1919 massacre of more than 300 peacefully protesting Indians (they didn't like the idea of imprisonment without trial, which the British had just brought in) and the injuring of about 1500 more, by the British. The place is now a memorial park, but you can see still the well into which many people jumped to avoid the bullets (and from which 160 dead bodies were recovered) and walls with bullet marks in them. The focal point of the memorial is a large redstone sculpture that looks immensely phallic. A fitting tribute. There is also a “martyrs' gallery” with a handful of portraits and a large painting of the scene of the massacre. Someone has defaced General Dyer (the British officer responsible for it all) on this big picture, and, unsurprisingly, no one seems in any rush to repair it.
Lunch was once more at the langer in the temple complex. It was different today – a different dhal, another savoury dish, chapati and an orange sweet – but was still really good (in fact it was better, though I preferred kheer to this orange stuff).
That afternoon we headed to Attari, the border between India and Pakistan, in a shared taxi from the hotel. By shared, they meant about two people to each seat. Driving back, I was basically on the gear stick, and I can tell you that second gear was rather uncomfortable. We left late, and stopped at the Durgiana Mandir (we weren't expecting this) on the way (me and Patrick didn't go in again, but got some samosas instead), so couldn't get good seats (or standing places) at the border ceremony. There are massive grandstands on both sides of the border, the Indian one was full to bursting (like the country) and bathed in colour, the Pakistani side stayed fairly empty until a few minutes before the festival and was decidedly more sober in colour. The rumour is that the Pakistanis send buses to nearby villages to top up the crowd when necessary, but that may just be an Indian rumour. The ceremony involves lots of marching, saluting, shouting, cheering and so on from the border guards. They shake hands, shut the gates and lower the flags. At the same time, we in the crowd cheer on our side. It's all good fun, then you go. I got a cheap Rs5 Indian flag to wave.
On the way back, we stopped at the Mata Temple (we didn't know it was an Amritsar tour), so we did another fun circuit of this fun park temple. On arriving back at the hotel, we went to a restaurant for dinner (including some wonderfully named idli sambers, which weren't that nice) then watched the book ceremony once more. I stayed in the Akal Takht this time and saw the book being put away. I was surrounded by singing Sikhs, which was amazing. They then all began to fall to their knees and bustle about trying to get to the front. A boy of around 16 told me “sir, please bend your knees”, but I wasn't really prepared to bow down to a book, so I skipped that bit (they only bow down at the front, so I wasn't standing in a crowd of people on their knees). He commiserated me afterwards, saying “better luck next time, sir”.
The next morning we went to the bus station for about 8am, took the bus to Pathankot, and then got one to Dharamsala. Patrick left me there (his monastery is nearer Dharamsala than McLeod Ganj) whilst I waited (for a long time) for it to go on up to MG. Once there I ate and shopped, picking up all the necessary Tibetan goodies. I left MG at 7.30pm, and hung around Dharamsala bus station for a while, waiting for a delayed Manali bus (which went past Tashi Jong). It finally arrived, and was absolutely packed. After a crowded 2 hours, we got to Tashi Jong and I was home again.
Monday was, if you didn't know, my birthday. I'm now 19. Golly. At the start of my baby lesson the monks from both classes (who I think Mike had told about it) came in and shook my hand and sang happy birthday (well, they couldn't get past the first two lines, and the tune was a work-in-progress, but it was nice all the same). One little monk gave me a pack of biscuits as a present, which meant a lot to me, even though it was just a pack of biscuits. After lunch I went up to see Ngawang Palzang at the incense factory. When he found out (he asked, knowing it was around this time) he ran off and got me a pack of incense wrapped in a khata as a present, which was really kind. Whilst I was up there, I met a German and a Russian; the Rushkie had been in TJ for four years and was a student of Popa Rinpoche. The rinpoche came in and the Russian kissed his hand. That was oddly interesting.
In the afternoon I had my big lama lesson, which was only three monks today. After my lesson with Dechenwangmo in the village, I went up to see Ngawang again and do some incense packing. I tried my hand at longer incense sticks and at the outer wrapping, but my manual dexterity is basically zero. Popa Rinpoche came in and had a little smile at my attempts. After dinner I had my “lesson” (not really a lesson, more just talking) with Sondup Gyamtso (who I mistakenly called Thupchen in a previous blog). He showed me photos of his trips to Malaysia and Indonesia, accompanying the Dorzong Rinpoche on visits. Two littler lamas (including Dechen who I may have mentioned a long time back) came in and we had biscuits and milk. They celebrated my birthday with the oddest song I've ever heard – they clapped and sang “happy birthday Robbie” atonally over and over. It was very strange, but also very heart-warming. Apparently, they don't celebrate their birthdays, so it's even more special that they did anything for me.
Thank you to all of you who sent and signed my present and card (and those who were signed for), it was great to have something from you all! And to those who wrote on my Facebook wall, thank you too. I may reply eventually. Thank you all.
Tuesday, today, has been rather normal. I had lessons and have come down to Paprola to sort out various things. And that, as they say, is that. We have Mahakala puja starting on Friday, replete with lama dances and so on. I look forward to it.
1 comment:
Looking forward to Amritsar, we'll be there just before we see you.
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