04 Dec 2015

Delhi III - The Sikh temple

Once again I’m in Bangalore, India, the last stop of my journey. As a result of a gypsy curse (long story), every internet connection I connect to in this city dies immediately. The only connection that seems to work is the wifi at Starbucks. So yes, I’m sitting here, yet another free spirit with a Macbook in their lap, busily typing away. If you ask the staff nicely, you can even get coffee - without milk, sugar, caramel and whatever other pollutants they want to cram into your cup. Apparently my last post still had me in Delhi, so let’s pick it up there.

Gurudwara Bangla Sahib

One downside of traveling by yourself is that every now and then you find yourself with zero motivation in a place you should find interesting. And nobody else does anything about it! It was one of those days. I was lying on my bunk at the hostel doing nothing. Not reading anything, not watching anything, not listening to anything - not even thinking about anything, really. I was mainly enjoying the relative cool and quiet, while outside the sun was roasting that particular sensory overload that is Delhi. Unbidden, the realisation that I only had one more day left in Delhi popped in my head, followed by the guilty admission that I really should be more travel-ly. In my experience, people tend to underestimate the energy required for travel. It’s those people that tend to message you “Oh, why are you inside? You should be out, exploring stuff!” Why don’t you go out yourself, smartass!

While I find it easy enough to ignore those awful yay-sayers, tuning out that nagging voice in my head was a lot more difficult. Eventually I dragged myself out of bed and stepped out into the heat, the noise and the chaos.

Somebody had mentioned that there was a beautiful Sikh temple not too far away. Sikh are the guys with the turbans, in case you were wondering, and they tend to build nice temples. So I found myself a tuktuk/auto and got myself dropped off at Connaught Place, from where I would walk the remaining stretch to Gurudwara Bangla Sahib.

The residential neighbourhood surrounding the temple is oddly calm and quiet. I see few people in the streets, and the buildings and trees absorb most of the noise. Instead of people I see monkeys (and the occasional security guard failing to chase them off with sticks). Monkeys tend to be egotistical, ungrateful assholes prone to violence, shrieking and poop-flinging (lending a whole lot of support the the idea of evolution). In Europe we don’t get monkeys, which sadly means that most poop remains un-flung but makes those animals all the more interesting when I finally get to see them.

Monkey patrol

A hundred meters out from the temple a low hum rises above the silence of the area. Soon I reach an intersection and spy a white tower with a gilded dome loom over the block. The hum turns out to be a huge crowd around what must be the temple. As I get closer, the crowd of colourfully dressed families closes around me. The chatter, singing and sound of bells is deafening. I can smell food and a lot of burning incense.

Main gate to the temple

I end up following the crowd through a white gate onto a square in front of the temple. Everybody else is taking off their shoes and leaves them at a wardrobe outside the temple. I follow suit and then let the flow of people carry me up the stairs. A young Sikh stops me and hands me a scarf, which I tie around my head, covering my hair. After a few minutes, the result is acceptable, though it leaves him and his friends grinning broadly. Whatever man!

The temple is made up of two parts: The prayer hall itself, which a continuous stream of people passes through, and an outside area of a large pool with a roofed archway around it. Everything is made of white stone with intricate inlays. Gold twinkles in the sun. I decide to take a walk around the pool, together with many other visitors. The atmosphere outside is relaxed: People chat and laugh together, children run around playing and several visitors sit down under the arches and eat. Many visitors take a ritual bath in the pool, surrounded by others taking selfies in front of the spectacular temple.

View from the pool

As the clouds grow darker and darker, I decide to sit down under the arches for a break. Every few minutes, small groups break off from the stream of passers-by and come up to me, asking for a picture with me. I don’t really see a reason to decline, so I obediently pose for a few pictures and exchange a few handshakes. Unfortunately, many of them seem a bit too shy for conversation.

The arcades around the pool

After a walk around the pool I decide to brave the crowds and step inside the temple itself. This being India, personal space is not much of an issue for anybody and as a slow-moving group cuddle we flow into the main hall of the temple. Inside, every inch of marble is covered in ornate patterns in gold and lively colours. The throng of people carries me past a huge arrangement of flowers and statues, while the air is full of incense and chanting. I’m looking around, my senses completely overwhelmed. At some point, I feel a hand clamping down on my shoulder, which belongs to one of the younger guys I spoke to earlier outside. He gave me a fairly unexpected hug and then disappeared in the crowd, leaving me a bit bewildered. Finally, the crowd around me pushed itself over the doorstep at the exit and out into the open air. Still stunned by the noise and the whirl of colours inside I’m walking down to the wardrobe robotically. I pull on my boots and sit there for a while, processing the experience. Eventually, I wrestle myself free of the sights and head back out into the streets.

Until next time,
Arne