Amritsar

Located near the Pakistani border, in the heart of India's breadbasket, Amritsar has the distinction of being one of India's holiest cities. It is the home of the incredible Golden Temple, the most revered Sikh shrine in India. The Sikhs are a religious group, separated from Hinduism in the 15th century, it was started by a guru Nanakaman who's image dominates the walls of many places in Amritsar. He rejected the caste system, saying all people are equal, a theme shown by the free accommodation and food at Sikh temples. The Sikhs abstain from smoking, alcohol, and drugs (idealistically anyway) and can be recognized by their uncut beards, long hair bunched in a lump above their forehead and the iconic turban wrapping style. They've faced persecution over the years; the Golden Temple has been destroyed a few times. In 1984, a group of Sikhs, wanting a separate state, hoed in the Golden Temple. Not wanting to look weak to the primarily Hindu state, Prime Minister Indira Ghandi invaded the temple and crushed the uprising. The Sikhs were understandably bitter about their shrine being defaced and tensions rose higher as Indira was shot dead in her driveway by her trusted Sikh bodyguards. The situation has calmed but it remains a painful reminder of religious differences are a major source of conflict in the multicultural India.

Amritsar itself is a busy confusing town. Sikhs are the most predominant people, especially near the Golden Temple. I visited by myself (the others had yet to arrive) and walked the perimeter. The silence of the temple grounds are very relaxing in opposition to the town. Before entering, I had to wash my hands and feet then cover my head with a scarf. Thankfully the beauty of the temple outweighed the feeling of standing with wet feet on cold marble in the middle of winter. The temple itself is a sculpted gold box floating in a square tank of water. On two sides stand giant clock towers, the other two are flanked with an enormous gold dome and a collection of free dorms for pilgrims. The temple itself is fantastic, but standing the middle of the grand grounds is the most amazing. I didn't enter the temple itself saving that for my next day with the others. I did however stop for lunch in the massive multi-floor dining complex, which feeds tens of thousands of people daily, for free. This is a true show of how the Sikhs value equality so highly. A person walks in the door, is given a multicompartmental plate and a spoon, then is ushered upstairs. Lines of narrow carpets span the floors, where people sit down and wait to be served. Beturbaned men stood at the end of the aisles, offering prayers before serving out of giant buckets flavorful dal, the best I've had in India, thick vegetable curry, coconut rice porridge, a ladoo, and chapatis, offered into my two hands held together in a almost begging postrure, filled my plates. The food was fantastic, a surprising feat given the dizzying quantity produced. A middle-aged single mother professed her fast love for me in broken English as I ate and played with her child. When finished, I got up and dropped my dishes in the mass volunteer cleaning area, nearby masses sat on the floor, chopping onions and shelling garlic. It was beautiful to see such well-oiled, large-scale charity, not for the poor, not for the Sikhs, but everyone. I left a donation in the box and went to randomly wander the incomprehensible streets of Amritsar.

The Hindus have their own version of the golden Temple, though less grand. I was glad I saw this one first. Along the outside of their tanks were life-size panoramas of the lives of various deities, primarily Shiva. The Hindu temple that really struck me in Amritsar was the Mata Temple, a theological obstacle course passing idols, going through crawl spaces, trenches of water and fake caves. It was a fun presentation of Hindu ideas through a journey.

By far, the real highlight was the Pakistani border closing ceremony at Attari about 30km west of Amritsar. I don't know the origins of this oddity, but it's quite the spectacle. Guests are ushered to a group of bleachers like in a school gymnasium. Before the ceremony, Indians stand near the gate and dance energetically to Bollywood hits. At some point, the curiously dressed soldiers, in brick red uniforms adorned with large gold buttons and topped with hats that look like a large fan, growing out of their heads, like cocks' mohawk, clear the grounds for the ceremony. It starts with a call to chant by an MC-like character. He yells, “Hindustan!” and the crowd replies, “Zindabad!” This goes on for a few minutes until the mic is held in front of a soldier who yells “Ohhhhhhhhh!” until out of breath then he stands, lifts one foot high into the air like Monty Python's ministry of silly walks, straightens abruptly, turns and speed walks arms and legs in exaggerated motion all the way to the gate. On the Pakistani side, the same things is happening in almost a mirrored competition of pomp. It feels like two pep rallies in a single giant room, each side trying to be louder and more nationalistic than the other, flags waving in the crowds with great fervor. This process repeats for five consecutive soldiers until all are standing in a line at the gate. Finally, the soldiers from each side shakes hands politely, quickly and the flags are lowered with the sunset and the gate is closed. The party stops with this.

I returned home that second night and the group had just arrived, their more convenient route had 15 hours of delays. I, however, not wishing to linger, already had my ticket to Rishikesh. The rest, minus John would join me two days later. Before my train, I went to a great night market and had my best meal in India, mutton curry and tandoori chicken, specialties of Punjab. It was meat heavy since Rishikesh is a holy, vegetarian town.

My walk to the station went passed the bus stands and travel agencies, all trying to get me on their bus.

“I already have a train ticket,” I repeated again and again to any who approached me. Some were even lying. “No trains are leaving tonight.”

“I have a ticket.”

“Trains don't leave tonight.”

They did. The ease with which Indians can lie always astonishes me.