Humbled by Gold #FiveDaysOff - Part 5

I don’t really know why, I love the bustle of big cities. I mean I like the bustle, mind you. Not the noise or the traffic.

In my younger days I loved Bombay (yes, it was Bombay then). Bombay had that buzz, the bustle. I fell in love with the pulsating energy of New York the minute I stepped into that city. And then there’s London. I loved the very first time I visited it, its combination of quaintness and modernity.  (The very same reasons why I love it still.)

What I am getting to, is that there are a lot of cities that have won my heart. That make me want to go back there. Stay there. Leave, knowing I’ll come back. Revisit. Reminisce. All of that. So when I made the plan to visit Amritsar it was just that. One more pin on the map. One more flag on the ground. But no, that did not happen with Amritsar. Amritsar did not win my heart.

Amritsar won my soul!

Our hotel was supposed to be very close to the Golden Temple and we had decided we’d go there as soon as we had checked in. Which we did. A quick bath and change and we were on our way. It was well past 10 pm when we entered the temple precincts.

When we took off our footwear, washed our hands, covered our heads with our shawls and stoles and gingerly stepped into the little step well of water before descending down to the entrance of the temple we did not know what awaited us.

There amidst  the gleaming waters of the Amrit Sagar stood the holy shrine! Harmandir Sahib. Resplendent in gold. Glistening in the night lights. Gleaming with the mystique it has emanated over the centuries.

If I said the aura was magic, I’d be misleading you. The air was electric. It was the time that the Guru Granth Sahib, the holy book , the designated last Guru of the Sikhs was being taken to its resting place for the night. The crowd was huge. Right from the courtyard, way into the long corridor that led to the inner sanctum of the Golden Temple, the entire passage was crowded with people, waiting eagerly for a glimpse of the Guru. But more impressive was the silence. The utter silence. Devout respectful silence. And we watched the proceedings in that awe-inspiring silence we grew new respect for the place and its people.

I am not a Sikh, do not know much about Sikhism, and I am not religious. But I have great respect for the religion and for its people.

Let me quote a bit from Wikipedia - Sikhs are expected to embody the qualities of a "Sant-Sipāhī"—a saint-soldier. Which means to love God, meditate on God, keep God in the heart, feel God's nearness and also be strong, courageous and ready to fight to protect weak people from cruel injustice attackers.

True. Most religions rely on some basic principles that are preached from high pulpits to the common people. Rules that make for a better society. Do’s and Don’ts. The good and the bad. The blessings and the recriminations. But here is one place where the religion is lived. Practised. Manifest in its essence.

Take the entrance where volunteers take your footwear for safekeeping before you enter the temple. Note again, these are volunteers, who have come there with a spirit of service.

Inside the respect you get as an individual is that of what should be due to all as a rule. And all are welcomed here – it does not matter what religion you follow.

Take the Langar, the community kitchen. Hundreds of volunteers feed thousands and thousands of devotees every day, every meal.

The large eating hall itself is a lesson in service and humility. I cannot describe how the simplicity of the food beats the finest Masterchef winner in the spirit with which it is served.

The museum portrays saints, soldiers and seers with an equal respect. Sant-Sipahi again. Tales of unbeatable valour and courage intertwined with tales of devotion and service.

And all around you have the opportunity to serve, to serve the temple, the devotees or the people in general.

Or you can simply sit by the Amrit Sagar and listen to the hymns that ring over in the electric air – songs of praise for the Lord which have not stopped ever since the temple was first consecrated.

The Golden Temple cast a spell over us. And over two days we went there three times. Just a pull that drew us there willingly and gave us a sense of peace.

In stark contrast, a visit to the nearby Jalianwala Bagh created a deep sense of disturbance. Bullet holes in the wall told a heart-rending story. So did the Well in which hundreds jumped to their death to avoid a fate worse than death. It is said that General Dyer who ordered the massacre of the innocents didn’t ever get a good night’s sleep after that. Troubling as the reality is, no one would. One can only come out of that experience wounded, bleeding, silent.

The Wagah border, another facet of Amritsar spoke the language of patriotism. This is where country meets country in a large, pompous, noisy ceremony. Enough YouTube videos can show you the ceremony but none can compare to the air of patriotic unison that the cheering crowds bring to the place when you are there.

Amritsar got me thinking. Here was the one of the most religious of places, rubbing shoulders with one of the most tragic and violent historical sites in India touching the threat of a livewire border of the neighboring state.

And my respect for its people knows no bounds. I am sure every resident inherits its DNA, a chromosomal combination of religion that intertwined tragic history with unparalled valour, courage with humility and a fun loving nature inextricably combined with humility and sense of service.   The Golden Temple embodies all of Amritsar in its resplendence. The gold that shines outside only brings out the essence within.

And we were humbled. Truly humbled by gold.

Relevant links...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sikh

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harmandir_Sahib


Did you miss the earlier posts?

Five Days Off - Part 1
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2012/12/fivedaysoff-great-start-and-miracle.html
Five Days Off - Part 2
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2013/01/helicopters-heights-and-new-high.html
Five Days Off - Part 3
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2013/01/united-by-faith-fivedaysoff-part-3.html
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2013/01/helicopters-heights-and-new-high.html
Five Days Off - Part 4
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2013/06/food-for-thought-fivedaysoff-part-4.html
 

Food for Thought - #FiveDaysOff Part 4

Show me an Indian who does not indulge in eating on a holiday and I’ll show you an Indian who’s either sick, comatose or is participating in the imminent Miss India contest. For Indians, holidays are as much about food as sightseeing or visiting.

Don’t we all go into a flurry when we have out-of-town guests coming over. What will they eat… we wonder. What’s the best we can do? And for the visitors - if they are close, a list ensues from us - don't forget to get me the famous sweet from there. For our part, from Mumbai, don’t we carry Alphonso mangoes to Delhi in the mango season and faithfully carry Mishti Doi when we return from Kolkata? Aren’t we reprimanded if we go to Rajasthan and haven’t partaken of Daal Baati? Why did you even go there, people tend to ask. And you look shamefacedly down, observe your toes keenly while you mumble excuses of how there was not enough time.

Tch.Tch. Food rules India. We may not be MasterChefs but we definitely are MasterFoodies.

Going to any place in India and coming back without smacking your lips on the local delicacies is in one contemporary word: #FAIL.

So would my #FiveDaysOff be any less? No way.  Dietary consciousness and weight regimens were left behind at the tarmac in Mumbai as we took off for Jammu.

I did my fellow Indians no disservice. Every local delicacy was partaken of, as a group or singly, every dhaba (roadside eatery) enthusiastically patronized, every wayside chaiwallah was given a boost in his daily income. As SG put it, we did great service to the local economy and one of the ways was through the eateries.

If I had a problem it was the coffee. Being a coffee drinker (which means – I don’t drink tea at all) I did have my share of challenges. But more about that later.

So we land in Jammu. Rajmah Chaawal (Kidney beans and Rice) must be had. The first opportunity we got was at the langar (kitchens) at the one of the temples. Simple wholesome Rajma and rice. The deliciousness of simple food cooked with the love of the locals is hard to beat. Our holiday had begun. The taste buds were already dancing!

Our next stop was Katra. In Katra the hotel gave us our first big meal. But later in the evening we stepped out to the local chaiwallah. The rainy weather was still a concern. Our man sagely told us that if it was to happen, it would happen. The important thing was to have freshly brewed tea. I gingerly asked for some coffee. And he magnanimously told me that he had some remnant coffee powder and that he’d make me some coffee later.

Once we had the entire group sipping, what I was told, really good tea, he proceeded to make my coffee. The tea vessel was perfunctorily rinsed. He pumped the kerosenes stove and put some water and milk to boil. Then added a handful of sugar (yes hand full – no spoon!). It was also a handful because I had told him I didn’t want it very sweet. I guess it would have been several fistfuls if I had not told him that. Then he added whatever coffee powder was in the pack. In my mind, very little. But it was cold and I wanted to have what I convinced myself would be coffee. It was. Somewhat. The final boiling hot brew that was handed over to me tasted of tea, kerosene, sugar, milk and coffee, in that order and in descending order of prominence. Oh well… this is too far north to expect good coffee, I thought, while I gently kicked myself for not carrying my travel kettle with me.
I missed my travel kettle throughout  my trip. Good coffee and the North of India do not get along very well. Not only that, even in the hotels, the sachets of coffee are the worst of MYFIRSTCOFFEE by Nescafe which to my mind is a sad apology for coffee and should be banned from the market.  Or should be arrested for masquerading as coffee. But never mind, I am wiser now. And I will never abandon my coffee dreams.

As we went uphill to the Vaishnodevi Shrine, the local restaurant (FOOD COURT, mind you) gave us our share of Gobi Parathas, Alu Parathas, the tangy North Indian pickle made in mustard oil and of course, Rajma rice! Out there, my coffee was served to me in a leaky Cocacola paper cup. Oh well!

As we came down to Katra, the market treated us to a Spice Fest! Katra revels in the richness of its offerings of nuts, dry fruits, aromatic spices and of course walnuts!

We descended on a shop and made the owner a happy man when he finally closed shop. Then wended our way to a smaller lane, from which we went into an even smaller dhaba. There we ate the best of parathas, vegetables and Rajmash! So we all thought it was a spelling mistake, but an ex-colleague told me that Rajmash was the Rajma mixed with the rice! Genius, isn’t it? And we were wondering why it didn’t come separately!

For those Indians who practise austerity on a holiday, let it be known that the food that we ate was mostly cooked in pure ghee with truly generous dollops of butter put in for good measure. If our clothes got tighter, it was probably because the fabric had shrunk – or contracted in the cold!

Our descent to Amritsar was not without the necessary directions. A close friend  had not only told us where to go but what to eat there. Armed with this kind of insider knowledge our first night in Amritsar took us straight to Sarson da Saag and Makki ki roti followed by a (rather large) glass of lassi/salted buttermilk.

To say that we were ready to burst would be embarrassing. The poor cycle rickshaw driver, I am sure, found it more difficult to pedal back than when we got there first. Ah well. No excuses. A holiday is a holiday and will be celebrated with food.

The next day, we had corn – ummmm- roasted corn on the cob with a generous coating of lime and spice. Nothing quite beats that! And guavas. The guavas in the north are green outside even when ripe. And of course, white inside. Cut into slices with a bit of masala put on it, it takes you straight into Mother Nature’s lap. This is exactly what she had planned when she conceptualised this particular fruit.

You can’t go to the Golden Temple and not eat there. The food served with love and devotion and a serene sense of service is the best ever. Simple dal, beans, kheer and roti were on the menu of the day. You take only as much as you can eat and you don’t waste a morsel. The simple food tastes delicious. But that's because it is prepared with love, served with devotion and accepted wtih humility.

Evening again found us at Kesar da Dhaba. Amritsar buffs tell me that it is exactly as it was ever since it began some decades ago. I believe it. But what was amazing is that with the food we experienced good old-fashioned hospitality as the steward plied us with more and more of the local fare. After ordering Missi Roti, Chhole and Paratha, we were persuaded to not go without the Daal, Raita and the Gobi Paratha. When we protested, we were offered Phirni!  When the bill came it was so nominal that we were sure that there had been some mistake. But no… this was part of the great Northern hospitality and we left Kesar da Dhaba once again feeling the weight of too much hospitality!

The next day we flew back. And that came to me as a rude shock. My first meal of the day was in the aircraft. The sandwiches were over and I was offered Chettinad something or the other - which looked and tasted like something or the other. 

My gastronomical holiday was so over!

Did you miss the earlier posts?

Five Days Off - Part 1
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2012/12/fivedaysoff-great-start-and-miracle.html
Five Days Off - Part 2
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2013/01/helicopters-heights-and-new-high.html
Five Days Off - Part 3
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2013/01/united-by-faith-fivedaysoff-part-3.html

 

United by Faith - FiveDaysOff - Part 3

If you've not read the earlier parts of this travelogue, feel free to go to the links below. If you have, brave on!

Getting off from the helicopter the Shrine was just about 2 kilometres away.

As we walked on the cobbled stones, it felt wonderful. And it was ccccold. But charged with the speed and efficiency of the helicopter, we marched onwards to our destination.

 The Vaishnodevi legend is beautiful for those who don’t know it. I am not going to narrate it here. Needless to say, I always approach a shrine with more of a spiritual feeling than a religious one.

And what always, always, always appeals to me in religious places is the collective faith that gathers here. The people who approach this shrine are indeed perfect examples of that.

They come with immense faith. And sometimes nothing but.

I saw a young couple with a toddler, walk, yes walk, all the way up. One of them carried the baby, the other person carried their bag. From time to time, they’d exchange their respective burdens. From the looks of it, I don’t know what difference it made, but they did it, as they chanted “Jai mata di” with all the religious fervor possible.

I saw old people wending their way slowly up the cobbled path to the shrine. Weary but with a clear glint of faith in their eyes. The Divine Mother was waiting for them. They’d do this no matter what.

I saw youngsters in jeans and t-shirts, the types you’d expect to see munching pop corn in your local theatre and they walked up with the gusto and strength of the youth and the belief and spirituality of age.

And I saw families. Friends. Groups of all kinds. Fat people. Thin ones. Young. Old. Ailing. Babies. Toddlers. Mothers. Fathers. All moving towards a common destination. All united by faith. A central mantra. A song. A hymn. Or just the rousing cries of "Jai Mata Di" (Hail the Mother) as if it added a spurt of energy into their step as they wended the arduous way up.

If the crowds in any Hindu shrine are a deterrent, the sense of faith that unites everyone is something worth experiencing. I’ve seen it time and again. Whether it is at the Sai Baba temple in Shirdi, the Golden Temple in Amritsar, here in Vaishnodevi or even the Mahalaxmi temple in Mumbai. It’s faith that brings everyone to the divine doorstep and faith that sends them back with the conviction that there is a higher power that will look after them in their times of need.

Long ago, somewhere I had read the definition of an atheist: a person with no imaginary means of support.I so agree.

For those who believe in God, or a Supreme Being, no matter what their religion is, there is this pillar that is always there to lean on – whether in times of joy or sorrow. Every time I visit one of these temples or shrines, I come back my soul refreshed, my spirituality renewed, just seeing this spectacle of faith.

Jai Mata Di!

Did you miss the earlier posts?
Five Days Off - Part 1
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2012/12/fivedaysoff-great-start-and-miracle.html
Five Days Off - Part 2
http://tectonicshifts.blogspot.in/2013/01/helicopters-heights-and-new-high.html