The Gurdwara

I’m beginning to love this Sikh stuff. I had no idea half the people I’d meet were Sikhs. Just before coming here I shaved off all my hair since it was going to be so hot, plus I hate getting hassled by security because when I grow a beard I look like a smuggler, without it I look like the All American kid. So now I look like some sort of heretic when I walk the streets here.

I’m thinking that converting to Sikhism would be a good option for me. I can grow a really good beard, don the turban, and nobody’s the wiser that I’m bald.

At the Governor’s (Assistant District Commisioner’s) house I woke up early on the roof to the sound of chanting coming from the local Sikh temple. Apparently these are readings from their holy book. It was about five thirty in the morning and beautiful. I walked the streets of the village while everyone stopped and stared at the pale, bald, shaved man. I must have been quite a sight to them.

Hungry dogs roamed the place looking for breakfast. A lot of people were up transporting things and generally starting their day.

Amun and Assim joined me and we decided to get some breakfast at the Sikh gurdwara (i.e. Temple or Church). Everyone is welcome, but I don’t know their policy on gay rights. We checked out the large pond and some fish came up to us with their mouths agape ready to eat, they were well trained. In the Sikh tradition the meals at the gurdwara are free and served two or three times a day. I was given a bright red piece of cloth with gold trim and told to put it over my head as everyone has to keep their head covered. We also had to check our shoes with the shoe check guy who gave us a piece of metal with a number on it. I was relieved that there was some sort of security for my shoes. At the Dome of the Rock mosque in Jerusalem you just left your shoes outside. I wasn’t worried about my shoes per se, it was my orthodics, those things are expensive and make my feet feel oh so good.

We entered a large empty room about 120 feet long and the same width with super long mats rolled out on the floor. As people wandered in they were ushered to the next open spot on the mat just like parking at a Giants game. We sat cross legged on the mats and guys came by throwing round steel trays on the marble floor in front of us. Then another guy comes by and throws three small bowls into the tray. Then the food guys come by and slop stuff from a large pot into the bowls, followed by the guy with nan, a round flat bread.

It was kind of neat, a real community kitchen. I think the whole village comes here to eat. Assim kept insisting I understand everybody there was a volunteer. I guess volunteering is unusual in India, I presumed everybody was a volunteer.

More people followed in behind us as the place began to full up. We were talking about what I could eat and shouldn’t eat as I’m trying to avoid anything made with water that wasn’t boiled and the guy next to me tapped me on the leg and motioned for me to be quiet. That’s when I noticed that even though the place seemed noisy, it was just the food preparation and the banging of pots, nobody was talking except to give instructions. But when a guy with a beard and a turban carrying a dagger (they carry a ceremonial dagger at all times) tells me to be quiet, I obey.

I was told I had to eat everything on my plate because the food was from God, but there was no way I was going to eat some of that stuff. I had a choice, martyrdom or gastrointestinal disease. Luckily somebody allowed me to give them my excess and I avoided both.

After that we took our trays and bowls over to the cleaning stations and washed things down, leaving the final cleanup to the volunteers. I was happy I had participated in a traditional Sikh breakfast thanks to my friends, there’s no way I would have wandered in on my own. Now I’m a pro. Outside I ran into a couple of kids and this 7 year old girl had the same eyes as that famous picture of the Afghani girl in National Geographic so I took her photo. We wandered back to the Governor’s house.

The Governor explained that the construction we saw of a large building was for a Sikh University. It seems that half of Punjab’s GDP was due to people in America coming back and donating huge sums of money to build gurdwaras and things like the University.

Few Americans know that Sikhs came to America in significant numbers about a century ago, ostensibly to work on the railroads. They settled in the northern central valley of California because they are by nature farmers and the area reminded them of the Punjab, flat, hot, and miserable.

G.B. explained that the Sikh religion teaches that there is no separation of church and state, they should be one. He clamped his hands together for emphasis and smiled. Yeah buddy, we got too much of that in America for my taste. These Christian nut jobs already think they’re in a holy war with the likes of me, I don’t need you on their side. Don’t get me wrong, G.B. is a great fun guy, but as far as I’m concerned Marx was right, religion is the opium of the masses.

It turns out that a few years ago this area right on the border with Pakistan was a hotbed of terrorism and/or patriotism depending if you support a Sikh homeland or not. I was told that as visitors we would have been marked for kidnapping or worse. The Punjab has a fairly sad recent history. When India and Pakistan were partitioned in 1947 they ended up splitting the Punjab as well where a huge population of Sikhs live.

The theory was that Pakistan with a majority of Muslims could not live within a country like India that was majority Hindu. Fair enough. But at the end of the day Ghandi’s tolerant India allows many different religions to co-exist somewhat peaceably (not without occasional outbreaks of violence, but at least they try) while Pakistan successfully killed or drove out all but 1% of the Hindus and 2% of the Sikh’s. Christians are almost unheard of.

My bias is totally with India on their problems with Pakistan so keep that in mind. As far as I’m concerned Pakistan was one of the great enablers of 9/11. Ahmed Rashid, a Pakistani journalist wrote a book called ‘The Taliban’ before 9/11where he documented that the Saudis are providing money to the Pakistani Intelligence Service (ISI) who then pass the money and intelligence on the Taliban and Al-Quaida. These then act as terrorist proxies for Pakistan’s objectives of destabilizing India.

He noted that this is going to backfire as they cannot control these guys. Sure enough nine years later he’s been proven right, and the Taliban is moving down into greater Pakistan. Pakistan pretends they are the only ones who can defeat the Taliban so the U.S. gives them billions of dollars to fight them and Al-Quaida and we have nothing to show for it but a resurgent Taliban killing Americans troops daily. Meanwhile our tax dollars are funneled into Pakistani pockets and their nuclear program. It’s brilliant if you really think about it. Can you blame Indians for being baffled by our stupidity?

I had a Hindu fundamentalist friend, Harish, who years ago told me, “I want a war with Pakistan”.

“You’re both nuclear countries”, I responded, a bit shocked, “You’ll kill 100 million people”.

“Who’s going to miss 100 million people over there?” he answered. Life is cheap in South Asia.

So back in the 80’s and 90’s Pakistan did the same thing with the Sikhs. A Sikh separatist movement had arisen and was fanned by India’s attack on the Golden Temple (I’ll talk about that later). Pakistan supported them with arms and intelligence to destabilize the Punjab and create a new country called Khalistan as a buffer.

One of the big problems though is that even with a large Sikh population, the Punjab is still only 50% Sikh. So if they became an independent country ruled by Sikhs, they will either have to put up with a Hindu terrorists funded by India, or kill and drive out all the Hindus. There’s no really good solution.

However things can’t be too bad, India’s current Prime Minister, Manmohan Singh is a Sikh.

In India it’s hard to get people moving. We were dependent on G.B. to drive us to Amritsar, but understandably he seemed inclined to sit around and talk with his cousin. Due to the power cut there was no water either. Somehow one of the servants went out and got two buckets of water so we could take a shower. I was quite proud of myself for only using 1/3 of a bucket. I’m becoming a native.

They asked us if we wanted breakfast. As the meal at the gurdwara was now hours ago this was more like lunch. So yes, we responded, we would. I ordered boiled eggs.

Now it takes 7 minutes to boil an egg. In America usually once someone asks what you want for breakfast they immediately start cooking it. But nothing seemed to happen. Later I went into the kitchen to find the trash and was told in no uncertain terms it was a breach of protocol to enter someone’s kitchen. I’d been in all the bedrooms and bathrooms, but the kitchen is sacred?

After about 90 minutes I was all packed up and ready to go when everybody asked what I was doing, breakfast would be served soon. Gee, how could I have ever doubted breakfast would soon be served?

We ate again and then G.B. and his cousin spread out his turban and began folding it. I’d never seen an unwrapped turban, I forget how long it is, but I think they said it was a 7 meter turban. It was just a long flat black sheet.

I of course was fascinated by this, I’d never seen it done before, plus I might have to learn. G.B.’s hair was up in a knot on his head. He then put on an under turban (yes, just like underwear), and proceeded to wrap his turban around his head in five minutes flat. He was quite meticulous about it. He made sure it was tight and without wrinkles with that steel bar I mentioned earlier. I was told some guys spend an hour at it.

I saw a pre-wrapped turban by my bed and asked if I could try it on. I did, but without the beard I look like my mother in her beehive hairdo wig.

I asked the Governor why it was so quiet. There were no people calling on him to demand roads be fixed or the power restored. Assim answered for him that in India it works the other way around, the people don’t tell the Governor what they want and demand he supply it, he tells them what they should do and demands they supply it.

We then had the obligatory India photo session (Indian’s are crazy for pictures) and made our way to Amritsar. On to the Golden Temple!