MAY/JUNE 2009

Horn! Please & Use Dipper at Night

by Karin-Marijke Vis

As we continue our fantastic journey around the world in our BJ45 Land Cruiser, one of the first places we visit in India is the Golden Temple of the Sikhs. This mesmerizing place of pilgrimage awakens a deep feeling of curiosity in us, an eagerness to learn more about religions and their intriguing places of worship. Obviously we have arrived in the right country, where a multitude of religions coexist peacefully. From the holy temple of the Sikhs we move northward, to a pilgrimage of Hindus amidst Muslim territory. At the Indian border, Coen fills in both of our entry forms, signs them and hands them back to the customs official who answers with a questioning look. “Oh yes, I always sign for my wife,” Coen says. Whether the official finds this strange as seen from his own culture or because he is not used to this coming from Westerners, we don’t know. After traveling through Iran and Pakistan, we have grown so used to Coen’s taking care of paperwork that we don’t give it a second thought.

Who is the Last to Lower His Flag?

Meanwhile, large crowds flock to the border gate and take a seat in the stands—as do the Pakistanis on their side of the Wagah border. Pakistan and India are ethnically of the same stock but after independence from England in 1947, the rift between the two seems beyond repair. Feelings of nationalism are fed daily at the opening and closing ceremonies of the one and only border between the two countries. Both sides wave flags while Indians shout, “Hindustan, Hindustan!” and Pakistanis yell, “Pakistan, Pakistan!” Part of this madhouse are officers with towering headdresses swaggering towards the flagpoles, in a Monty Python’s “Ministry of Silly Walks” manner— turning the ceremony into a somewhat comical performance—until they stand next to their rival of the other side. A daily battle ensues: who can lower the flag slowest—it is a matter of pride that one flag should not be lower than the other. It seems that the only reason the flags are lowered at all is the international custom that flags have to be down by sunset.

The thirty kilometres over a smooth, freshly tarred road bring us to Amritsar—the seat of Darbar Sahib—the most sacred temple of the Sikhs. We leave our shoes at the entrance, walk through a footbath and enter the temple. In the darkness of the evening, we stand transfixed by an awe-inspiring sight: amidst the Pool of Immortality, surrounded by a snow-white marble concourse, stands a temple with a sparkling, gold-covered dome and marble-inlaid walls. The Golden Temple, as it is called in English, receives up to thirty thousand pilgrims a day and all are offered food and lodging free of charge. Volunteers run the temple—each pilgrim or devotee is free to participate in the cleaning of the site, doing dishes or distributing food. During nineteen hours of the day, the chanting of the Holy Scriptures by the priests echoes across the serene lake—it is pleasant to the ear and induces a sublime feeling of peacefulness. It is a place to linger but we are on a schedule. The pilgrimage of Amaranth is reaching its end so we pack up and head north.

The Turbulent Province of Kashmir

On the road to Srinagar, along the ceasefire line between Pakistan and India, our Land Cruiser weaves on excellent tarmac, thanks to the political conflict of Jammu and Kashmir, which demands mobility, speed and year-round readiness on the part of the military. Kashmir has long been a bone of contention between the two countries. It is a complicated conflict, the origin of which goes back as far as the first Anglo-Sikh War in 1846. Nowadays, the Muslims, supported by Pakistan, strive for an independent Kashmir, which regularly leads to insurgencies and bombings...

 

 

 

 

Photos by Coen Wubbels