After a long day’s travel and some truly unforgettable scenes, sleep came early. Now at 4:00 a.m., I awoke to the pleasant kirtan (devotional singing) of Sikh leaders at the Golden Temple, about six blocks from my hotel. The temple complex opens at 4:00, but as best I can tell, the singing, and gentle drumming, continues round the clock. In many other gurdwaras (the name for Sikh places of worship) there is mostly chanting, or reading, the Adi Granth, the holy scriptures, constantly. My sense is that this singing involves a combination of text and devotional songs. It is pleasant, and consistent, and it reminds me of soft Native American chant, just a bit.
On 24 November, the highlight of the day in Delhi was a visit to the Gurdwara Bangla Sahib, a very large complex and temple built in the 1600s, where the eight Sikh guru stayed, healing the sick with the purifying waters of a source there. Now, a large water tank/pond is adjacent to the temple, where throngs of pilgrims and daily worshippers come. The Sikhs welcome all visitors, but everyone must remove shoes and socks, and must don a head covering. Sikhism began in the Punjab area, near Amritsar, in the 1400s, largely as a reaction to the Hindu caste system and to aspects of Hindu worship. A significant factor was the need to bring peace between warring Hindus and Muslims, and Sikhism proffers itself as a way for all humans to live in peace. Sikhs are known spiritual leaders, Khalsa, who never cut their hair nor shave. Thus, their large colorful turbans and full, long beards make them easily recognizable. Sikhs disavow idol worship, in contrast to their Hindu neighbors, but they carry the musical culture and dress that is very similar to Hinduism. They do revere their holy leaders, and the center of their worship is the Adi Granth. Other than at Amritsar, all the texts are copies, but wherever a gurdwara appears, there one finds the holy book at the center of the temple, being read, being worshipped. Again, like the Hindus, there is a practice of placing flowers, small change, special food, at the “foot” of the text. In a fascinating, post-worship experience, Sikhs file out of the gurdwara and are given, in their open palms, a lump of special food (a sort of bread dough, it appears), which they eat. “Holy Communion”?
A day later, yesterday when I arrived in Amritsar, I discovered how insignificant (by comparison) the Delhi gurdwara was. The Golden Temple is breathtaking. After the six hour train ride from Delhi, I had not planned to visit the temple until today. But an early evening walk near the hotel led me there, where from the outside one sees this massive, well-lit wall, which really is a square, though so large that one does not see the corners. Perhaps an analogue is a large fort. Inside the walls, one immediately sees the temple, which is the most dazzling golden image I have ever seen. Inside it, the priests chant and sing, surrounding the holy book. The temple sits in the center of a large water pool, where the followers dip hands and feet and ritually wash their faces, the washing very similar to Muslim preparation for prayer. The pool is surrounded by a large marble courtyard, where devotees pray, bow and kiss in adoration, and meditate. The space is immense, and I have no words for it.
As I experienced the moments, I walked toward the central causeway that leads to the temple, and soon I was walking the causeway, surrounded by crowding worshippers, chanting and joining in the kirtan singing, as we slowly shuffled toward the inside. At one point, I tried to turn back, thinking that this might take a long while. A gentleman touched my shoulder, and politely but insistently said simply, “Stay.” I did, and what occurred inside is difficult to describe. People crowded near the center, bowing and praying, some very emotional. Then they pushed away, forced themselves through the crowds, and went to the outside, where they dipped a hand into the water to drink (only after worship, the sign said), and then proceeded to a priest who gave them the bit of food. The crowds continue all day, every day, with praying, devoted followers coming just for these brief moments.
Earlier in the afternoon, I experienced one of the most frightening moments of my trip – a ride on a cycle rickshaw across town to my hotel, and then to another temple. These entrepreneurs on bicycles (three wheelers, really) with a bench seat are one of the main means of transportation in India. Indeed, they get you where you need to be, but only by being very aggressive on the road, marking space and cutting in among motorized rickshaws and taxis. A moment after I agreed to the $5 charge for the ride to my hotel, I realized that there was no seatbelt, no helmet, no doors, no facemask for the horrendous fumes and dust. When the “driver” hit about 30 mph going down an incline, matching bike to cars, I could only laugh.
But he waited for me at the hotel, and then took me another long distance to find the Sri Durgiana Temple, the other major religious site here. This Hindu temple of worship to Durga, goddess of protection and power, is also overwhelming. Seeing it before the Golden Temple, I could not imagine that the Sikhs would outdo this. Here in the heart of the old city, the Durgiana is also a golden temple, with stunning silver doors, and the temple is accessed by a causeway, with a courtyard and pool that surrounds the complex. Completed in the 1600s, it certainly mirrors or provides a model for the larger Sikh one (I am not sure which came first). The worship at the Durgiana was in no way less sincere. Here followers sat and reflected on the various images of Durga, especially the major ones on the front of the worship area. I was about to leave when a gentleman spoke, “Wait.” I did, and soon the temple priest opened three central doors to reveal more images. The followers huddled around the front of each door, and as soon as the doors opened, the visibly bowed, prayer, and stood for a moment before moving on. Little did I realize that this would be the first of two such moments in the day where a man would utter one word to me, welcome me into a special worship moment, and I would dutifully follow. The time at the Durga temple was moving to me, and I appreciated the kindness and friendliness of the people there. As I left, four young men asked me to take their picture, and then asked me to be in a picture with them.
Hinduism is impossible to describe in a short space, or to teach in a semester. As an old TCU friend once told me, there is no such thing as Hinduism, only Hinduisms. A few thoughts, however, may be helpful. Contrary to popular Christian understanding, Hindus are not worshippers of many gods, ultimately, for they see all of the Divine essentially as Brahman, and Brahman is one. But Brahman may be expressed, shown, worshipped, understood, followed, in any number of images, beings, gods, goddesses. Technically, this is called henotheism. The most commonly worshipped gods are forms of Shiva, Vishnu, and Devi. This last one, Devi, is the name for goddess, and Devi is often understood and worshipped in the forms of Durga or Kali. When worshippers pray or offer gifts to the statues of the gods and goddesses, they are not seeing them as “rock, stone, or wood idols” but rather as expressions of the real gods, and ultimately Brahman. There is not really an act, in worship, of seeing the god, but instead of being seen while seeing, a concept known as darsan. So the act is not merely intellectual, where one thinks about a god, but moreso it is experiential, including repentance and revelation. I sat on the train next to a Hindu man who works for the India customs department. I thought for a moment that he was Muslim, for he seemed to be reciting the Muslim prayers, complete with hand gestures and quiet vocalizing of the prayer. He explained that he had been praying to Durga, asking for power and guidance. He told of the Hindu understanding that humans take 72,000 breaths each day, and thus there should be 72,000 mentions of god during the day, so that god is on the heart and we begin to be empowered and share the divine. He, like many, have touched me with their sincerity and quiet devotion.
In less positive ways, the people are normal insecure folk like all of us. I the am really getting tired of the stares. Yesterday I found myself angry at two boys who were looking back at me and laughing. When one told the other and they both turned around to look at me, I raised my hands in a gesture that said something like “What am I supposed to do? Stop staring at me!” The one who told the other seemed a bit embarrassed; I felt ashamed to make such a deal of it. But I am amazed at how pervasive it is. Late yesteday I caught the eye of a woman whose gaze seemed to be saying “You look like a terrorist! What are you doing here?” Now, I’m not a world traveler, but I have seen a good many non-American countries and people, and this is the first time that I’ve felt so truly out of place. I am indeed the only fair-skinned, blue-eyed, white-haired man in all of India, I think. And increasingly I am surprised to learn that when asked what country I am from, and I say “United States, Texas,” they have no idea what Texas is. Texas to them is about like Punjab to me; we both may have heard of the other place, but we do not know they are states. I’m seeing more and more my own ethnocentrism and arrogance, and I’m beginning to understand prejudice.
And then there’s the air. As American scholars told me, the smell is unique and undeniable. It is indeed, a combination of pollution and various spices and incenses from market vendors. Minus the pollution and waft from open air public facilities, it is a not unpleasant smell, and occasionally the incense pervades and it is a quite interesting and nice odor. But the pollution leaves a haze over everything, and in these smaller cities, some of the main roadways are truly dangerous for health. (In Delhi, nice, larger parks dot the city, and the forestry makes a dramatic difference.) It is indeed sad to see this special place so overwhelmed itself, by its own overpopulation and insufficient infrastructure. I have heard Americans attribute the poverty and pollution to the religion, but I tend towards a view that the reasons are much more complex and include economic, political, and population factors.
It is 6:30 a.m., and the kirtan continues. Perhaps unfortunately, the sounds of car horns begins to compete.
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