Monday, September 30, 2013

Amritsar

A must go when you come to India

I remember the first time I heard of Punjab was from our Bhangra instructor. She said she was from that region of India. The best thing about traveling is that though I drew a blank then, my India map is slowly getting drawn up. For the entire region, only this city was recommended, I would say skip the Taj and come see the Golden Temple instead. Structurally, the Taj Mahal is very aesthetically pleasing, but if you compare the inlaid marble artwork and sensual arousal, the Golden Temple beat it by a long run. The marble artwork of the Taj are laid like tiles, with the pattern repeating all around, whereas the ones around the Temple differ and tell a story. The amount of work exuded into each piece perhaps reflects the devotion of the Sikhs. The real gold added a nice contrast to the white marble as they both shimmered on the holy water. The water was deemed holy after the disabled husband of a faithful wife was healed with divine intervention. Now, a lot of devotees head to the temple to bathe and cure themselves of all physical aliments. My senses were disturbed when I witnessed a man scoop the water and drink it. The only method of cleansing the pool appeared to be the use of a long bamboo stalks to move the solids floating on top to one end of the pool where it would be filtered out. All of my OCD hygiene senses were going off as my legs were thinking, keep walking!

The sight upon entering. The line seems very long but they keep it moving surprisingly fast

A Nihang on guard. This is the backside view.

One of the intricate pieces. Photography inside the temple was actually not allowed.

Cleaning the pool.

Many different varieties of achar. Punjabi food is all about the chili.

The other point of interest was the Wagah border, India's only road border crossing with Pakistan. When the troops retreat for the day, each side puts on a big show of power through loud music, flag waving, vocal contests, dancing and marching. The middle three activities were the efforts of the crowd. This surely made up for the cricket game that I would be missing. To backtrack a little bit, I want to tell you about the bus ride. The day was another hot Indian day, humid also from the previous day's downpour. I sat down with the window to my left and decided to take a nap for the hour and a half long ride. When the bus got going, I felt a brush to my right side and opened my eyes to check if anything was up. I assumed it was an accident and closed my eyes once more. Shortly after, I again felt a brush close to my breast and my eyes bolted open. His arms were crossed and he shifted it back as if to imply it was an accident. I pulled my bag firmly between us and shut my eyes again but not my brain. And then again, the nerve! This time I was certain so I opened my eyes and glared at him with enough malevolence to make him leave the seat. I was appalled to think something like this could happen. No wonder people don't recommend girls to travel alone in India. All of this frustration is going to explode on some poor bugger. I just know it. Sigh.

The previous day's downpour. Storm drains don't exist.

So much for single file. Don't expect Indians to form a line. Get out of the way or get tramped on.

Running their hearts out to show national pride.

The dancing. At one point they even played "Jai Ho" from Slumdog Millionaire

The marching. The aim was to see who could kick the highest and stomp the loudest.


Next stop: Bikaner, Rajasthan by sleeper bus.




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