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.
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