26 November. 4:45 p.m., Amritsar Train Station
For the morning, I strolled around the Golden Temple again, and with much more attention to the people. In the daytime, devotees bath in the water, stay a long time on the grounds, listen to various music groups and/or sermons, and walk to every part of the complex, bowing before sacred relics and copies of scripture, kissing the ground, touching the doorways. It appears that many Sikhs come with families, helping elderly parents and relatives, teaching young children the holy ways. I talked with several people, asked if I could take some pictures of them, and found everyone to be very friendly and/or polite. My experiences so far in India have not shown a smiling people, whether Sikhs, Muslims, or Hindus, but once the conversation begins, they are kind, honest, and in no way condescending. If anything, I did find the Amritsar Sikhs more approachable. Some bow and gave the universal Indian sign – two hands meeting in a prayerful way – passing on the Namaste, which means “I see the God in you,” or more generally, “peace to you.” I found that whether met with a smile or a nod, when I expressed myself similarly, all went well.
For the morning, I strolled around the Golden Temple again, and with much more attention to the people. In the daytime, devotees bath in the water, stay a long time on the grounds, listen to various music groups and/or sermons, and walk to every part of the complex, bowing before sacred relics and copies of scripture, kissing the ground, touching the doorways. It appears that many Sikhs come with families, helping elderly parents and relatives, teaching young children the holy ways. I talked with several people, asked if I could take some pictures of them, and found everyone to be very friendly and/or polite. My experiences so far in India have not shown a smiling people, whether Sikhs, Muslims, or Hindus, but once the conversation begins, they are kind, honest, and in no way condescending. If anything, I did find the Amritsar Sikhs more approachable. Some bow and gave the universal Indian sign – two hands meeting in a prayerful way – passing on the Namaste, which means “I see the God in you,” or more generally, “peace to you.” I found that whether met with a smile or a nod, when I expressed myself similarly, all went well.
The children tend to smile more. I liked seeing the school buses – essentially motorized rickshaws stuffed with children. They all wanted their picture taken, and a handshake if traffic allowed.
The traffic is horrendous. No lanes, but cars, rickshaws, horse-drawn trailers, walkers, motorcycles, bikers, buses, and trucks. The bicycle rickshaw drivers continue to impress, especially the old men who must be in their 60s or more. I did learn from a Sikh salesman that the pollution is not the only cause of the haze, which not only stings the eyes but also prohibits clear, bright photographs; the weather is also a cause, or rather the change in seasons. Though the summer is too hot to stand, for Westerners for sure, the incoming winter air pressure traps the pollution and creates the eerie haze.
I found many small mandirs (Hindu temples) and gurdwaras (Sikh temples) again today. They are sandwiched in crowded building spaces, all around the town, and they are met by a prayer with almost everyone who passes. One larger Hindu temple is almost totally hidden, but it reveals a stunning upstairs tapestry of color, including what appeared to be the Sikh gurus. It was very near the Golden Temple.
Tonight, it is back to Delhi. My planned excursion to Dharamsala, seat of Tibetan Buddhism, is just not possible. It is a 6 hour train/bus ride from Amritsar, and too much is already packed in. I regret this, but there is no way to capture all that is here, even in a hundred trips.
I splurged today for lunch: I had Domino’s pizza, or a version of it. The multitudes of street vendors, selling all kinds of wonderfully spelling foods, tempt, but I know how dangerous these are for our weak stomachs.
My train snack is here. Thus ends the journal.
slp
Midnight. In my hotel room in Delhi, and learned of the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. Now I find myself facing another situation that missionaries and other Westerners face when abroad: When to pack and leave, when to realize that dangers are everywhere, how to make wise choices. For now, I will watch the news, listen to U.S. embassy advice, etc. Likely this will be limited to Mumbai, which now, obviously, I will avoid.
