War and Peace

Had been to Jallianwalla Baagh and the Golden Temple these past 2 days. Though “maththa nahi teka” at the Golden Temple – there was a crowd. Will take darshan some dawn when tourists aren’t around…

Jallianwalla Baagh was totally contrary to my notion about it……as we walked along the infamous narrow passage which is the only exit/entry from the Baagh which Genral O’Dwyer blocked before letting the bullets fly that fateful day in 1919, I felt a tremor of anger and sorrow – the passage was all of 6 feet wide! Even if people had been allowed to escape that way, there would have been a stampede…



But on entering the Baagh, my stirred-up feelings at once subsided. Like a deflated balloon. For the tourism ministry (or whoever) has BEAUTIFIED the whole Baagh. There are lawns, flowers, shaded walkways and pavilions to sit in…the works.




Only three bullet-ridden walls and the horribly infamous ‘Martyrs’ Well (in which more than 120 people fell in and drowned while trying to escape the merciless bullets, there being no ledge/wall around the well) stand testimony to the brutal and heartless carnage that took place nearly 90 years ago. They oddly seem out of place in what could have been otherwise a nice park for families to spend Sundays at…



The Jallianwalla Baagh massacre is an important chapter in our history which should be remembered as an example of relentless British cruelty. I do not say that make the whole area a mourning ground. But the spirit of history should be preserved. The Baagh is emphatically not a family garden. It is consecrated (or is it desecrated) with the blood of innocent citizens and the solemnity of this fact must be maintained. There is an Amar Jyoti – an eternal fire-burning as a mark of respect and there is a one-room gallery with portraits and brief write-ups of the martyrs who laid down their lives to avenge this brutality.



There is a stirring writeup describing the night after the massacre spent in the Baagh by a woman who lost her husband in the fray and who needed help in retrieving his body – but frankly, its impossible to absorb the anguish she felt seeing the destruction all around her when children are screaming in the background and people are more into taking photographs than understanding the grief that the place stands for (typical Raanicha Baag atmosphere) ….maybe I am being too critical. But for me, Jallianwalla Baagh was a shrine I wanted to pay homage at ever since reciting a passage about this very event as a child in an elocution contest. And my pilgrimage was ruined by the feeling of having come to a zoo……


Anyway, a day after that let-down I paid a visit to the Harmandir Sahib, better known as the Golden Temple. It’s a huge complex with a large lake in the middle of which is the majestic Golden Temple. All around the lake there are buildings – rooms for pilgrims, the langar (free food as prashad to all pilgrims who wish to partake of it) etc.


I took a parikrama around the sarovar but didn’t take darshan in the actual temple. Will keep that for a later, more peaceful time. But a couple of things which hit me about the Golden temple:

Firstly, everyone has to cover their head while in the complex. Silly as it may sound, somehow taking my dupatta over my head made me feel as though I had entered a gentle, spiritual place. There are bhajans being played on loudspeakers all the time, but they are soothing and not blaring. You can hear the ‘bhakti’ in them.



There is a spirit of humility and service that pervades the whole complex. I saw young Sikh women wiping dry the floors of a dipping-place on the banks of the sarovar (where according to legend, a leper had been cured by taking a dip – hence it’s a very holy place and people keep taking dips and trailing water all across the floors – ALL THE TIME)



Thus, the floors need to be wiped dry all the time too. One of these women was probably my age, and going by her dress and the pearl pendant she wore she was evidently from a well-to-do family. Seeing her crouched down, wiping the floors trodden by hundreds of people – rich and poor made me realize that kaar-seva or service is the value which embodies the place. The men who took my shoes for safe-keeping at the gate were probably accountants or managers in their respective workplaces – but they were cheerfully handling the shoes of a million pilgrims – from slinky sandals to worn, broken chappals. Even in the langar people like you and me volunteer to cook, to serve food, to clean up the utensils – its seva. A way of showing your gratitude and devotion by helping others.


Another vignette which caught my eye was that of a proud young Sikh father bathing his new-born baby in the sarovar. The baby was bawling till it went red in the face but the look of quiet pride and devotion on the father’s face as he splashed water all over the baby’s wriggly body was something else! And no concern about the filthiness of the water (it IS quite unclean!)

There were people being wheeled around the lake because they couldn’t walk but still wanted to visit this holy place. There were people from obviously affluent families (no doubt NRIs from UK and Canada!) rubbing shoulders with wandering gurus/sadhus and dirt-poor families. There were PYTs as well as old, bent pilgrims. There was a feeling of equality and brotherhood, as one saw such diverse people all gathered in one place to imbibe the spirituality and peace of mind that Harmandir Sahib radiates.

Into the heart of Amritsar

Yesterday was the first time I ventured into Amritsar all by myself.

I hailed a cycle rickshaw and asked the rickshaw-wallah tot ake me to
the famous Kesar Da Dhaba (An Amritsar institution – the oldest dhaba
there, henceforth abbreviated as KDD). But apparently, its not quite
so famous, since the guy had simply heard of it but didn't know the
way there.

So I approached an old, old Sardar policeman at a street corner as to
what area of the city should I ask for, to reach KDD. And I came
across yet another example of Amritsari warmth – his first reaction to
my question was a sweet smile and the comforting words – "Main aapko
rickshaw kara deta hoon ji!" Then old Uncle Ji (I cant call him a Surd
anymore) hailed a rickshaw, asked the guy to take me to KDD, told him
which route to take and also haggled with him over the fare. And
courteously handed me into (rather, onto!) the rickshaw! There's
chivalry for you!

Riding atop a cycle rickshaw is quite an experience. You proceed at a
leisurely 10 kmph through the crowded city streets. As you clutch the
seat when the rick bumps over a particularly uneven street of road
(and there are many such stretches in good ole Amritsar!), you get the
uncomfortable feeling that the whole world and his neighbour are
staring at you. And all the time you are conscious that another human
being is lugging along (albeit with mechanical help!) your lump of a
weight……and as though all these sensations weren't enough, Amritsari
traffic rushes in to add some excitement.




The traffic here is UNBELEIVABLE….. all the people, whether they are
atop ancient creaking cycles, even more ancient cycle rickshaws,
roaring motorbikes or smoke-spewing cars – all of them AMBLE on the
streets. There is no other word to describe them. The traffic moves at
max 40 kmph, people take wide looping turns, keep drifting from lane
to lane (probably the word 'lane' does not exist in the lexicon of an
average Amritsari ) And every single person thinks that he is the only
person on the whole road. So there is no right-of-way, people just
shove their vehicles (or themselves) into whatever space they find on
the road, without caring that the car/bike/rickshaw/truck just behind
them was a hair's breadth away from squashing them out of existence.
In this way, I found myself nearly embracing a Punjabi lady out
shopping atop another ricksaw, nudging a dashing Punjabi munda on a
hunkster of a bike and air-kissing the cheek of a soni Punjabi kudi
who was riding pillion on her friend's Scooty.

All through this socializing, the roads were transmogrifying – from
roads to lanes to alleys to almost-unpassable narrow walkways. Old
Amritsar was closing in. All around me were shops selling food – yes,
this was the true spirit of Amritsar! There were halwaais with mounds
of creamy mithai piled high, tiny thelas serving samosas and pakoras,
dhabas with a tandoor outside to welcome hungry wayfarers……this was
Khau Galli with a literal twist (several, in fact) There were also
shops selling gorgeous textiles – from printed cotton that Amritsar is
known for, to dazzling, sparkling lehengas and sarees – myriad colours
in chiffon, all glittering with mirror-work, jardozi work…all in a
multi-hued glory….



Finally after twists and turns (rather like the Nokia Navigator ad)
when I was deep in the heart of Amritsar and beginning to think that
the lane ahead was too narrow even for a cycle rickshaw, the rickshaw
stopped – in front of 'Kesar Da Dhaba , Estd 1916'



Inside, the marble-topped tables, wooden stools (painted black for some reason),
marble partitions to create a few booths (no doubt the 'family' or
'ladies' sections) and bright white tubelights was almost a luxurious
setting for me.(In the past week, my calibration on the luxury scale
has changed. I have seen (and eaten at) such holey, dusty, nameless
places that my luxury scale has hit a new low)



The menu is almost Spartan with 2 types of parathas, and 4-5 types of
subzis being served. But everything is cooked in "Shudhdha Desi Ghee"
as a board proudly proclaims. And true, my lachchha paratha came
glistening with ghee and the Shahi Paneer came with a film of red
'tavang' floating on top – but it wasn't oil, no! Such travesty would
never be tolerated here. It was true-blue ghee. It took me an effort
to finish that solitary paratha – even though it was not overly large.
The ghee does the job as effectively, you see.



I was persuaded to try both the lassi and the phirni after the meal – and both very nice. The phirni especially was yummy – rice-flour thickened milk cooked slowly
with sugar and dryfruits, and then cooled in shallow earthenware bowls
till the concoction sets –and served covered with silver varkha and a
dash of chopped nuts. Simple and sweet. :P



The lassi was not as good as the one I'd had in Delhi though – but
apparently the best lassi in Amritsar is the one sold outside the
Golden Temple. So I'll reserve my judgment on Amritsari lassi….

On the way back I resolved to walk my way out of the tangle of alleys
till the main road. And predictably, I lost my way. But I enjoyed
loitering about the bazaar, taking in the sights and sounds and
smells…..and was not worried a bit – after all, I had enough faith in
the people here to guide me – and they did. :) I rode home in an auto
rickshaw – oh how comforting was the steady roar of the engine under
me rather than the rickety clicks of the cycle rickshaw's pedals! The
auto I'd picked was slightly larger than usual and could have seated 5
people – but I sailed hotelwards in solitary glory. All around, people
peered into the auto, apparently surprised to see a lone occupant. And
I looked at the crowds – at times with regal aloofness and at other
times with a benevolent smile. It cost me 50 Rs (more than double the
cycle rick fare – that too, after haggling) but what is 50 Rs for
feeling like a Queen? :)

Amritsar di galiyan

I recently spent a day walking through the bazaars of Amritsar.

Amritsar is not, by any stretch of imagination, a beautiful city. There are no tree-lined avenues, nor smooth-as-silk roads nor beautiful architecture.

Amritsar is chaotic, bustling, with some really old moth-eaten buildings and impossibly narrow lanes which twist and turn out of sight. And every turn is graced by the presence of a dhaba, a restaurant, a 'thela', a sweetshop - I counted two miniature thelas selling pakoras in one 6-foot-wide lane - which was a dead-end!

I havent sampled much of the famous Amritsari food, so will reserve another post for it - but its abundantly clear that Amritsaris love their food! 'Kulche and Chane' seem to be the staple here. And the servings are very generous - just like the people. I ordered a sandwich in my room since I wanted to eat light - and it came with a pile of piping-hot French fries and a whole bowl of the thickest, yummiest tomato ketchup- not the regulation greasy wafers and watery pumpkin-tomato sauce one generally gets. Of course, the idea of eating light went out of the window!