July 10 in Amritsar (overview of the 9th): Golden Temple

I wrote a long post about yesterday, so I'll copy and paste. This is part 1 about the Golden Temple, with a bit more about Sikhism. Is it possible to have a crush on a culture?

July 10 from Amritsar

Early morning, snuggled into supremely comfortable beds happy knowing we don't meet until 9:30. We feel positively languid. After 3 very early starts it is a dream to have these few hours open (for laundry, exercise, computer contacts, breakfast, etc.) A brief recount of yesterday follows, this time a bit stylistically different:

I had an evening with Jay and Jerrin Bawa on Tuesday, dear friends of my sister's in Los Angeles. She is a medical students here, electing to come directly into 5.5 years of specialized studies here rather than doing the traditional undergrad + med school + residency in the US. She is in her second year, past the pure sciences and now into the particulars of pathology, surgery, etc. She doesn't speak Punjabi very well though, so even though lectures are in English, there is important discourse (explanations, etc.) that happen in Punjabi. I admire her dexterity. Learning medicine, Punjabi and the ins-and-outs of the Indian medical system is impressive. What a lovely and poised young lady. And her dad is a real kick, smart, warm, sharp and funny. He's the kind of guy who knocked on doors in the neighborhood he liked to discover if there were flats to rent, and guess what--there were! He might be the only guy in town in shorts and a turban, at least the only one over 50. It's awesome. They are both happy here, loving Amritsar, where Jay grew up. Their mom/wife is in LA, coming over later this summer, and they all seem content with their unusual circumstances. Jerrin says she and her dad are like flatmates, and I really appreciated spending the evening with them. Here are a few things I learned from Jay:

a. Punjabi is a tonal language. It is related in that way to Mandarin.

b. There are about 25 million Punjabi speakers here (in India), 75 million in Pakistan, and 5-10 worldwide. Partition divided the Punjab region 2/3s into Pakistan and 1/3 into India. 

c. The Moghuls suppressed the teaching of Punjabi in the 16, 17th centuries. The English did so in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Now it's taught again in schools, but Jay expressed concern that educated Indians were not preserving it, perhaps preferring their kids attend schools were English, Hindi or other languages are the focus. Jay said it's the villages, the less educated folks who have been preserving Punjabi thusfar.

d. Sikhs and Punjabis (the Punjab is 95% Sikh, I believe) are well known for drinking alcohol, eating a lot, and being really nice. 

Indeed, if it's possible to have a crush on a culture/region, I think I have one on this area and these people.

The Golden Temple is hard to describe, as it's more than a building, it's a community, the operational culmination of a cultural ideal. It's a compound with its own atmosphere, a living statement about what it means to be Sikh. Our guide Govind said it's "like Mecca for Sikhs". We visited in the rain, there by 7:30 am, gingerly sidestepping huge dark puddles as we navigated the red and brown plastic carpet walkways to the entrance. You have to deposit your shoes and don your head covering before you can enter the official site. You wash your hands first, as they were last touching your shoes, then your feet in a dip-pool concept that families everywhere might want to incorporate for their kids before entering the house. The outer building is white marble, a huge square probably 800m long on each side (a total guess). Etched into the stones in Punjabi and often English are dedications to folks who've died, some in India, others from England, Canada, the US, other countries, all Sikhs whose families wanted to commemorate their loved ones at his holiest of Sikh sites. There are dozens of war memorials among these, and some of the most elaborate are for gurus as well. 

The morning crowds were not so bad (Jay later said it was probably because of the rains). I guessed 1000, Robyn said 3200. We have no idea--the space is so large, it's hard to get a sense. When we returned 12 hours later there were more people, but it was not crushing or packed. People of all ages, some Sikh, some Hindu, others undoubtedly Muslim or Christian (or athiest) were there paying respects and participating in silent, personal reflection. 

The Golden Temple is also called Sri Harmandir Sahib, Hari meaning God, mandir meaning temple (I think). It was built under the supervision of Guru Ram Das (the 4th (?) of 10 Sikh gurus) in the early 1600s. The Golden Temple is actually marble and is built on a 67 sq. ft. slab in the center of the holy pool, accessible by a 202-ft. bridge that reaches out from the northwest. According to our itinerary notes, the Temple itself is 40.5 sq. ft. with doors open on all four directions. Worshippers file into the Temple in long lines, many putting their heads to the floor, to the threshold, or to other sacred spots as they enter. The marble is carved with beautiful script, flowers and other designs; the gold overlay begins about 8 feet up, continuing to the top. I read it was donated by a Muslim dignitary, 750 kg of gold. Inside the temple the scene is almost otherworldly. Worshippers sit and stand in every available space, many reading along from the section of the holy book that the gurus are singing. The music is perhaps the most subtly striking element of the visit, soft, lovely and continuous, it creates an atmosphere of calm and contentment. I read that four men share the singing for the day, but I only saw three singing and playing instruments (a classical finger drum and some sort of stringed piece). Upstairs sits the most senior guru reading the holy book, a giant tome of 1400 pages, each page as large as an unfolded metro map. There is even a place (along the south side of the temple?) for pilgrims to sip a handful of holy water--I declined. I can't explain why, but I was twice moved almost to tears in this enviroment. It is so beautiful, the sense of community, the open and unpretentious devotion by hipster boys in tight jeans, old turbaned men and sari-ed women, young kids...everyone. 

A note on the integral aspect of community: there are hundreds of jobs to be done daily at this facility. It is open 24/7 with organized worship for about 18 hours daily (my guess). There are some paid staff who do anchor jobs there, from monitoring and cleaning the public toilets to making sure people follow the rules (I got spoken to by the shoe guy, had to show him my shoe token; some people were reprimanded gently by the don't-point-your-feet-at-the-Temple guys). But there are literally hundreds of pilgrims who just pitch in to wash dishes, sweep walkways, help in the kitchens, etc. There are bathrooms, sleeping quarters, baggage rooms, wet clothing storage (for those who take a dip in the holy tank), and a kitchen to feed the community of people who come. I got separated from the group in the morning, was concerned about missing the rendez-vous, so went looking everywhere for them, would up in the food area and before I knew it had a plate in hand and was filing in to eat the community meal. Sitting on the floor shoulder to shoulder, people eat a chapatti, dark lentil dal and a veggie curry that to me looked like pea soup. I was a little nervous, what with a dicey stomach, but learned from the woman next to me that "you eat it all, you don't leave anything". And with the time  ticking, I ate the meal as graciously as I could. It's called langer (lahn-GEHR) and it's a symbol in the Sikh community of equality, of humility. I am very very glad that I had that experience. 

Each side of the temple complex has a long walkway with a portico that shields  you from the elements. Pilgrims recline either in contemplation or sleep, taking in the music, the air, the atmosphere. This sacred place was also the site of Indira Gandhi's controversial flushing out of Sikh separatists in 1984's Operation Blue Star, a low point for domestic relations in India. As I walked around last night, I imagined commandos storming the complex, where the Sikh separatists might hide, how they were ultimately tracked down and killed. I talked with another groupmate, Melinda, about Indira Gandhi's decision to "flush them out" (my quotes). She thinks it was reprehensible, you don't do that in a holy place. I am not so sure. A difficult consideration.