It was mid-October when I left for India and as I sat in Heathrow Airport thumbing through my lonely planet guide. A sudden gust of cold air swept through the airport, bringing more rain-soaked Brits and their dripping luggage through the entrance of Terminal Four.
I too was equally drenched, soaked but excited and transfixed to the pages that sat before me. They revealed a world alive with colour, flamboyant and exotic. A country not yet tamed or pedantic, proud and defiant in its character and a million miles from the orderly queues, social inhibition, and dismal weather that grinds with the onset of British winter time.
As I waited and fidgeted with my watch, a monosyllabic voice boomed over the loud speaker and echoed throughout the terminal. My plane to India was boarding and in a mere eight hours and after plenty of complimentary beverages I would have arrived in Amritsar the gateway to the Indian subcontinent.
Amritsar and the Golden Palace
The car door flew open and the rich smells and sounds of India flooded the car. I stepped out on the dusty roadside baring witness to the frenzied activity as it heaved on all around me. It was total madness; a scene of near misses and frantic beeping; of speeding rickshaws, bovine lay abouts and familial motor bikes - Moving as one, fluid and somewhat carefree to the imminent danger that it created - Initially my British reserve was troubled by the bedlam, such blatant disregard for health and safety was unnerving for a westerner used to zebra crosses and walking around in bubble wrap. But as I slowly began to relax i realised my neurosis was probably best left at the airport along with my bowler hat and monocle. This was India after all and if I wanted to be part of it I would have to surrender and merge with the madness of the Indian bustle.
My guide Govinda came round and joined me on the roadside giving me a reassuring slap on the back and pointing up the road to where the Golden Palace laid in wait.
Everything about those few moments standing on the side of the road seemed full of promise that for a disillusioned westerner bored with the predictability of the routine I was about to discover something new and exciting.
As we approached the Golden Temple, twinkling silver and gold paper ties danced in the warm winds above us, traversing the streets and giving the walk way an ethereal glow as we slowly approached the main entrance. Outside the Golden Palace Sikh Warriors armed with their Saracen swords and overstated blue turbans crowded in groups and Indian women as elegant as they are indifferent lead the way inside; enveloped in their radiant silks and adorned with fine jewellery.
Lepers, polio sufferers, the old and the poor also joined the group emphasising that even in a society divided by caste and wealth that their shared spirituality transcends the social impulse to alienate those at the lower end of the Karmic cycle.
Over the shoulders and covered heads of the crowd that swarmed in, the Golden Palace shone brightly and looked as tranquil as it did opulent, bathing in the crystal waters that it shared with massive carpe and the morning bathers. It was a truly stunning sight but the Golden Palace is more than just a pretty picture in a travel magazine. In the western part of the Temple people were cooking in gargantuan proportions in an almost industrial fashion - The smell of Dal and curry filling the air as we drew closer - Govinda explained that everyone who comes to the Golden Palace gets fed and that thousands of meals are made and consumed everyday. This I felt was the icing on the holy cake as I have been to religious sights before where the spiritual mystique of the place has been shattered by an overzealous few with an unashamed financial agenda. The Golden Palace was different however and I felt a genuine sentiment of worship, respect and community.
Around the mid-point of the walkway that surrounds the Golden palace we came to the queue which lead inside; there was obviously no concern for personal space in this queue, people were being pushed and were packed in like sardines, it was chaos!. However being westerners permitted us to go in the exit and we got in embarrassingly easy. Inside the main complex yet more to behold and awaken the senses with three floors of intricately decorated walls and holy men taking readings - We had reached the epicentre – I was in the middle tier of the temple when a musical ensemble below started to perform. The musicians sat cross legged on the floor and began to play filling the temple with notes that twanged and reverberated from the walls all being filmed and I assume beamed across India.
The Golden Palace was remarkable there was so much going on, it had the excitement and atmosphere of a music concert, with the reverie of a cathedral and the humility of a soup kitchen all rolled into one. It was like nothing I have experienced before and a mixture of many things I have. Amritsar and my tour of the Golden Palace was my first real taste of India and for me it was the perfect appetizer for the ensuing feast. In retrospect it demonstrated everything that is beautiful in terms of the culture and religion of the country and for the first time traveller to north India Amritsar is a perfect introduction. As far as the Golden Palace is concerned in my eyes it is the paragon of religious monuments not only in its aesthetic grandeur and outstanding beauty but in its humuility and spiritual service
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