amritsar- the tales

we decided on sunday that we should eat at the temple with all the pilgrims. the world food india book suggested it (thanks kari) but presented it with a story that was almost unbelievable. here is my story, the way i experienced the golden temple and lunch.

walking into the golden temple on saturday night was magical. the magic of walking into a structure and seeing the golden temple seemingly floating in the middle of sparkling water is unexplainable. the feelings i had paralleled those of other holy places around the world. i immediately think of family, present and past, and feel an overwhelmed proximity to them, not physically but spiritually. moreover, watching the reactions of other guests arriving at their mecca, as close as they can be to their higher being. i'll never forget the feeling of the cold marble floor as we walked around and took in the temple from all four sides.

the visit the next day was a very different experience. the sheer quantity of people that were around put more guards up. the lady who tried to open my bag as she walked by didn't help either, but the magic was different. i prefer the evening. lunch was the most profound experience i have had in india. we paid our donation and went towards the kitchen with the other 2000 or so people hungry for grub.

we were handed a plate, bowl and spoon, each by a different pilgrim volunteering his time. we herded, literally, up some stairs, each person desperately hoping to not step on someone's sari or get stepped on. then we stormed into a hall with long strips of cloth delineating where people should sit. all the while, petar and i are quietly trying to decide what we should be doing and how we are going to do this without offending anyone. the next few minutes are spent cross legged among thousands of hungry sikks trying to figure out what everyone is doing. bowl here, oh that's a glass, turn your plate, move your spoon, here comes the dal, and the rice pudding. oh, the bowl is for water? water to wash our hands or water to drink? "two hands" the guy with the roti says to me and i hold my hands up to receive my other utensil, the bread.

the clanking of the kitchen is something i will never forget. the sound of constant dishes being washed by hundreds of volunteers around the clock. so that everyone who is hungry can eat, regardless of class or religion.

at the golden temple, life works. the hungry get fed, the tired sleep and the religious pray. a seemingly perfect harmony.