Golden Temples and India Pakistan Flag Wars
Armitser is a town in the north of India in the heart of the Punjab. The feel here is different from other places we’ve been. In the heart of town there is a central plaza that could be mistaken for a Disneyland ride with its storefronts, lighting, and especially public trash cans. There was even a McDonald's, it serves no beef. The openness of the area leading to the temple complex feels down right sanitary compared to the off-shooting alleys that seem to offer a much more authentic experience. The flow of people, most in the traditional Sikh headdress flows to the hidden complex. Following the crowd we made out that shoes are to be taken off. A “shoe check” station is set up and as is the case in many places people offer you, the foreigner, the front of the line. We’re handed a large sack and a token to claim our shoes when we’re done. We follow the crowd again to the entrance. A staircase with a shallow pool in front marks the spot. Clearly you’re meant to walk through the water. I’m struck the water is warm which is in stark contrast to the carved marble floor. Inside the huge complex a perfect square is made out with a large square lake in the center. In the middle of the lake is the golden temple. As its name suggests, it is covered in gold and seems to glow almost floating on the water. The backdrop of ornate but totally white buildings frame it and the melodic hum of Sikh chanting is filling the air
.
People kneel and pray and there is a bridge connecting the temple on the water that is completely covered with colorful waiting worshippers that from a distance almost look like they are walking on water. Sikh Guards, many with spears stand around. We have no idea where we’re going but follow the crowd to the line. I think we picked some sort of shortcut line as our line moved much faster. We get to the temple and inside on the center more bright colors illuminate the kneeling prayers and the source of the chanting becomes clear. Bearded men in turbans recite the holy scriptures in a song everyone knows (but us) as most people quietly sing along. At some point some guard forces Todd to kneel and shoves a wafer his way. The temple is 3 stories of ornate in-laid stone. It’s a pretty amazing sight. We leave the temple and walk around the grounds. People seem to really want their kids to have pictures with our kids so we had some of those. Then I saw a young couple where the woman was clearly trying to shove a perplexed looking man in our direction. She wants a picture, she’s sent him to get it, he clearly is uncomfortable asking. To help ease his worried look and help save him from what would surely be his pushy wife’s wrath should he not ask for a picture I offer up the girls who are by now soaking up their new found celebrity status. Relief washes over his face and pushy wife takes her place between the girls. A few more pictures later and we depart.
Our BnB is great. The house is in a walled off compound of two homes. It looks like something from the British occupation with 20’ vine covered walls surrounding its dark wood floors. They feed us dinner, those of us who’ve managed to stay awake. The beds are soft for India (my hips were actually bruised from the bed in New Delhi - I think concrete is softer) but the real winner for us was the shower. Now in Rishikesh the shower was not even worth the name and I ended up washing my hair in a bucket from a faucet 12” off the ground. So to have a real shower with more than 2min of actual hot water was great. Kids don’t care they are happy not to shower.
The next day we opt to hang at the compound and do some school work. We then take the long drive to the Pakistani border. What would end up being more of a sporting type event than any political statement, the Wagah border crossing between India and Pakistan. Two countries who have in the last 50 years had 4 wars, and two countries who have nuclear weapons. Driving there has every bit the excitement of a sporting event. At every stop people are selling “India” hats and flags. It’s a little out of my frame of reference to be driving with road signs telling you you’re heading towards Islamabad, but the thing that has my attention are two huge flagpoles. We must still be 10 miles away and yet we can see the flagpoles. India built a 110m tall flagpole, only to be one-upped by Pakistan with a slightly taller pole (now the tallest in Asia). The flags are huge. Over 800square meters.
We park and much like a sporting event crowds of hyped up spectators flow to the stadium. We follow the crowd again not really knowing what we’re doing other than our cab driver pointing us in that general direction and kind people showing us to the “Foreigners” entrance. The mood is very much college football. The crowd cheers and chants back and forth and then what can only be described as a Bollywood performance of dancing Indian women takes place. This is counter to what seems like a more somber Pakistani crowd just visible across the fence (men and women separated). Slowly their side warms up chanting and yelling as well, the one legged man in a Pakistan flag outfit spinning in circles helped. The actual performance is a mix of machismo and posturing. High kicking men storm back and forth much like dancing peacocks. The only contact between is made with a curt handshake. As this goes on another competition is going on in the background. Dueling chanters. Men on both the Indian and Pakistani side bellow “Ahhhh” into a microphone seeing who can bellow the longest with one breath. This goes on and on. Sometimes India wins but not gonna lie, Pakistanis got a guy who’s got some lungs on him. The ceremony finales with a trumpeted song and the slowest flag lowering I’ve ever witnessed. It’s like neither side will be the first down. Once finally down the flags are sprinted back to their respective sides and the gates are closed shut.
Witnessing this just reinforces my belief that we allow ourselves to live in a culture of fear. If you’d told me I was going to sit on the Pakistani boarder with my 4 kids and feel completely at peace and even have fun dancing to the beat of Bollywood from the comfort of my suburban home, I’d have thought you nuts. But being here and seeing that in fact these people while obviously worlds apart in their views on lots of things fundamentally see each other as fellow humans, the real point is they see each other - they physically show up every night, a lot of people - and they see each other even if it’s across a wall. I think that’s so important. It’s so easy and almost human nature to insulate ourselves from the unknown like we’re somehow protecting ourselves. Most people are not out to harm you, even the people whom you’ve only known as your enemy.
Off to see if the Dalai Lama is home.
Armitser is a town in the north of India in the heart of the Punjab. The feel here is different from other places we’ve been. In the heart of town there is a central plaza that could be mistaken for a Disneyland ride with its storefronts, lighting, and especially public trash cans. There was even a McDonald's, it serves no beef. The openness of the area leading to the temple complex feels down right sanitary compared to the off-shooting alleys that seem to offer a much more authentic experience. The flow of people, most in the traditional Sikh headdress flows to the hidden complex. Following the crowd we made out that shoes are to be taken off. A “shoe check” station is set up and as is the case in many places people offer you, the foreigner, the front of the line. We’re handed a large sack and a token to claim our shoes when we’re done. We follow the crowd again to the entrance. A staircase with a shallow pool in front marks the spot. Clearly you’re meant to walk through the water. I’m struck the water is warm which is in stark contrast to the carved marble floor. Inside the huge complex a perfect square is made out with a large square lake in the center. In the middle of the lake is the golden temple. As its name suggests, it is covered in gold and seems to glow almost floating on the water. The backdrop of ornate but totally white buildings frame it and the melodic hum of Sikh chanting is filling the air
.
People kneel and pray and there is a bridge connecting the temple on the water that is completely covered with colorful waiting worshippers that from a distance almost look like they are walking on water. Sikh Guards, many with spears stand around. We have no idea where we’re going but follow the crowd to the line. I think we picked some sort of shortcut line as our line moved much faster. We get to the temple and inside on the center more bright colors illuminate the kneeling prayers and the source of the chanting becomes clear. Bearded men in turbans recite the holy scriptures in a song everyone knows (but us) as most people quietly sing along. At some point some guard forces Todd to kneel and shoves a wafer his way. The temple is 3 stories of ornate in-laid stone. It’s a pretty amazing sight. We leave the temple and walk around the grounds. People seem to really want their kids to have pictures with our kids so we had some of those. Then I saw a young couple where the woman was clearly trying to shove a perplexed looking man in our direction. She wants a picture, she’s sent him to get it, he clearly is uncomfortable asking. To help ease his worried look and help save him from what would surely be his pushy wife’s wrath should he not ask for a picture I offer up the girls who are by now soaking up their new found celebrity status. Relief washes over his face and pushy wife takes her place between the girls. A few more pictures later and we depart.
Our BnB is great. The house is in a walled off compound of two homes. It looks like something from the British occupation with 20’ vine covered walls surrounding its dark wood floors. They feed us dinner, those of us who’ve managed to stay awake. The beds are soft for India (my hips were actually bruised from the bed in New Delhi - I think concrete is softer) but the real winner for us was the shower. Now in Rishikesh the shower was not even worth the name and I ended up washing my hair in a bucket from a faucet 12” off the ground. So to have a real shower with more than 2min of actual hot water was great. Kids don’t care they are happy not to shower.
The next day we opt to hang at the compound and do some school work. We then take the long drive to the Pakistani border. What would end up being more of a sporting type event than any political statement, the Wagah border crossing between India and Pakistan. Two countries who have in the last 50 years had 4 wars, and two countries who have nuclear weapons. Driving there has every bit the excitement of a sporting event. At every stop people are selling “India” hats and flags. It’s a little out of my frame of reference to be driving with road signs telling you you’re heading towards Islamabad, but the thing that has my attention are two huge flagpoles. We must still be 10 miles away and yet we can see the flagpoles. India built a 110m tall flagpole, only to be one-upped by Pakistan with a slightly taller pole (now the tallest in Asia). The flags are huge. Over 800square meters.
We park and much like a sporting event crowds of hyped up spectators flow to the stadium. We follow the crowd again not really knowing what we’re doing other than our cab driver pointing us in that general direction and kind people showing us to the “Foreigners” entrance. The mood is very much college football. The crowd cheers and chants back and forth and then what can only be described as a Bollywood performance of dancing Indian women takes place. This is counter to what seems like a more somber Pakistani crowd just visible across the fence (men and women separated). Slowly their side warms up chanting and yelling as well, the one legged man in a Pakistan flag outfit spinning in circles helped. The actual performance is a mix of machismo and posturing. High kicking men storm back and forth much like dancing peacocks. The only contact between is made with a curt handshake. As this goes on another competition is going on in the background. Dueling chanters. Men on both the Indian and Pakistani side bellow “Ahhhh” into a microphone seeing who can bellow the longest with one breath. This goes on and on. Sometimes India wins but not gonna lie, Pakistanis got a guy who’s got some lungs on him. The ceremony finales with a trumpeted song and the slowest flag lowering I’ve ever witnessed. It’s like neither side will be the first down. Once finally down the flags are sprinted back to their respective sides and the gates are closed shut.
Witnessing this just reinforces my belief that we allow ourselves to live in a culture of fear. If you’d told me I was going to sit on the Pakistani boarder with my 4 kids and feel completely at peace and even have fun dancing to the beat of Bollywood from the comfort of my suburban home, I’d have thought you nuts. But being here and seeing that in fact these people while obviously worlds apart in their views on lots of things fundamentally see each other as fellow humans, the real point is they see each other - they physically show up every night, a lot of people - and they see each other even if it’s across a wall. I think that’s so important. It’s so easy and almost human nature to insulate ourselves from the unknown like we’re somehow protecting ourselves. Most people are not out to harm you, even the people whom you’ve only known as your enemy.
Off to see if the Dalai Lama is home.
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