Before leaving New Delhi for our weekend excursion, I had this vision: Our train pulls out of the station, thick air pollution swirling in its wake. We slowly chug-a-chug-chug into the countryside, where the brown haze gradually dissipates and the blue sky bursts into the scene. Green crops sway in the crisp, cool breeze while farmers wave in slow motion.
(Cue the sound of a needle scratching a record.)
Reality check.

Our train DID pull out of the station with thick air pollution swirling in its wake, and that air stuck with us all the way to Amritsar. No blue sky, no green grass, no friendly farmers. Everything was gray and brown and dirty. In Amritsar, we tuktuk’ed to our hotel – HK Clarks Inn, which veiled itself in that all-too-familiar western style designed to fool unsuspecting guests into thinking western-style customer service was on order.

As a traveler, I am often guilty of letting little disappointments condense in a cloud over my head. It’s been a long time since I visited a place like the Golden Temple, which blew that cloud away with a tranquil ethereal breeze.

Checking our shoes at the gate, we walked barefoot for a considerable distance on path covered with a damp woven mat. Before entering the temple, we had to walk through a little pool of water to wash our feet. Although I have serious issues regarding bare moist feet in public places, my OCD went out the window when the temple came into view.

The Golden Temple – Harmandir Sahib – rises up from the Sarovar, a lake considered holy by Sikh pilgrims, who immerse themselves and their children for its auspicious and healing powers. Home to the religion’s holy text, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, the temple is the spiritual center for Sikhs but welcoming to everyone. The chaos, pollution, traffic and frustrations outside the complex evaporated, overcome by smiles and spirituality.

Our group strolled clockwise with the other visitors along the white marble parikrama path, pausing frequently to absorb the serenity and appreciate the importance of this place. A mother sat fully dressed, splashing water over her naked toddler and gleefully pointing him in our direction. People knelt at shrines located along the parikrama in honor of Sikh gurus, saints and soldiers. Families sat huddled together, mumbling from prayer books and staring out at the gleaming temple. Men crouched lakeside, scooping water over their torsos and laughing. For some, it seemed a culmination of their life’s dream.

Nancy cropped her photo in the name of decency.

Photo by Katrina.

Another by Katrina.

Photo by Cristi.

“Please, miss, one snap!” A gentle touch on the arm, a shy gesture pleading for a photo. We must have paused 20 times to pose with other temple-goers. All across India, people are whipping out their mobile phones to share pics of themselves with the foreigners and … oh yeah … the Golden Temple. Within the temple complex, everyone was deeply respectful, though; we never felt overwhelmed by the attention.

This man didn’t speak English, but he gestured at my camera and then at himself. I took the photo and showed it to him. He nodded, smiled and walked away. Beautiful.

Everyone was required to remove their shoes and cover their heads – even men! Tony bought this handkerchief from a vendor outside the temple.

Our posse: Katrina, Nancy, me, Tony, Cristi and Jan

In line to enter the temple building itself, I was amazed at the peace. Nobody pushed or shouted. Everyone waited expectantly, many carrying packets of sweet halvah to present as an offering. Musical scriptures, recited inside the temple from the sacred book, poured out of speakers to create a spiritual soundtrack.

Katrina entering the temple; this shot is from her camera.

That night, Jan, Cristi and I revisited the temple. We were surprised to see hundreds of people clearly set up to spend the night. Some leaned against the walls; others sprawled out in the open space, covered with blankets too thin to compensate for the cold marble. We nearly stepped on one sleeping pilgrim who picked an unfortunate spot near the donation window. Although I prefer a warm bed, I understood the appeal of dozing in the glow of the beautifully illuminated temple.

Before heading back to the hotel, we popped in to the “langar,” where thousands of people each day gather for a free sanctified vegetarian meal cooked and served by volunteers. This New York Times article has a wonderful description of the temple and its community kitchen.

The guy on the left was passing out plates. I really wanted to eat here, but we ran out of time.

A blurry shot of people eating at the langar.

Back outside the temple, it’s chaos as usual.