2/2/06: They’d Like to Teach the World to Singh…

5:45 wakeup call for our Air Deccan flight to Amritsar, the Vatican City of Sikhism. Despite fears of long delays from striking airport employees, our flight took off and arrived without a hitch (apparently, lazy airport strikers don’t start protesting until after 11am). After checking into the Ranjit Svaasa, a colonial “bungalow” B&B, Rick and our guide Johal, hopped in a taxi to pick up a real treat--our special guest for the day, Sat Santokh Singh Khalsa. He’s a student at the Miri Piri Academy for Sikhs, and son of Rick’s friend and colleague Sat Tara (who had to go through some hoops to be granted day pass). And, we were sure glad he did. The Sinha Six were amazed at how charming, delightful, and engaging “Tokh” was. Based on prior personal experience with fifteen year-olds, extracting civil discourse with adults is like pulling teeth. Quite the contrary, Tokh offered a wealth of knowledge about Sikhism, its history, the Golden Temple, and living abroad. More remarkably, he patiently answered the same questions that were asked at least 5 times, as we independently grilled him on school, Sikhism, and life.

Between Johal and Tokh, we learned about the origins of Sikhism (essentially started 500 years ago as a Samurai-type class to protect Hindus from the Moghuls), the history of the magnificent Golden Temple (including a fabled reclamation from the Moghuls, where a Sikh leader, disguised as a traitor farmer, cut off the head of their enemy), the important role of voluntary service, and the five habits of highly effective Sikhs (white knickers to avoid exposing oneself when riding a horse, a dagger to be used only when all other means of negotiations or defense fail, a silver bracelet of strength, no shaving or cutting hair, and a comb to keep the hair tidy).

By 11am, we were off to the Golden Temple, the Sikhs’ Vatican, but far more impressive than its distant Roman cousin. This glistening 3-story edifice could easily be the ninth wonder of the world (caves at Ellora and Ajanta being eighth), seemingly floating in a man-made-lake, surrounded by shiny marble residences and temples. Like other temple complexes, we were asked to remove our shoes, but unlike other temples, there was no need to don airline booties, because the marble floors were sparkling clean, as was the water surrounding the temple. As Tokh informed us, Sikhs regularly volunteer to wash the floors of the temple. In fact, a team from Miri Piri shines the monument’s floors weekly. More impressively, when the moat was emptied a few years back, revealing a foot-thick layer of mud, hundreds of thousand Sikh volunteers cleaned out the muck in less than 24 hours. Today, carp flourish in the blue waters of the Golden Shrine. As we approached the entrance to the temple, Tokh was greeted by and chatted with a local Khalsa (the most revered type of Sikh). But, then we encountered a problem—the line to enter the holy temple was at least one-hour long. However, Johal concocted a brilliant plan, whereby I was both a revered university professor (I believe he promoted me to Dean) and Tokh’s long lost uncle (at least the lost part is accurate) from America with a plane to catch. The powers that be bought his story, and, after collecting some holy mush as a contribution, made our way past the long line with our Disney-like fast passes, and admired beautiful carvings and paintings inside the temple, while pilgrims payed homage (and rupees) to priests chanting from the few remaining hand-written copies of the holy book. On a dare, Sunny even managed to convince Anne to taste the holy mush, much to my surprise, and in clear violation of the holy scriptures of her beloved Oprah.

Around the rim of the pond, Sikhs bathed in the pristine waters, while assorted holy men chanted from the holy book of Sikhism, the collective wisdom of the first 10 gurus. Apparently, the 10th guru convinced the disciples that HIS was the final word. We have reason to believe that Dick Cheney is a direct descendent (he’s actually NOT bald, just wearing a very tight turban, which accounts for that nasty smirk). At every stop, we were surrounded by interested bywalkers, who were captivated by Johal’s and Tokh’s narratives.

After retrieving our shoes, our next stop was a memorial to the hundreds of Sikhs who were slaughtered by the British early in the century, triggering global outrage, and helping plant the seeds for independence. After lunch, where the quality of the food at Miri Piri was quite evident from Tokh’s voracious appetite, we headed to the India Pakistani border for the changing of the guards, which resembled a Bears-Packers game--athletic men in uniforms gliding toward the posts (flag, not goal) to the roar of the die-hard fans in bleachers. On our way back to the hotel, we bade a fond farewell to our new friend and associate guide, Tokh. We hope to see him again soon.

While Ronna, Paul, Laura, and Susie sampled the sordid assorted massage treatments, Rick couldn’t resist an evening shot of the Golden Temple, kindly escorted by Johal. After dropping off our shoes, we entered the marble gates to witness the evening sky aglow in the golden light of the temple. Circling the GT provided a series of spectacular perspectives, but the highlight of the evening came as we exited the complex. Johal asked if we might stop by the temple office to thank them for our budging privileges. No problem. As we ascended the stairs, the Singh Sahib (high priest) was crossing the stairwell, and invited the “esteemed professor” and his guide in for a chat. Yes, the Jewish kid from Longggilind was about to have an audience with the Sikh Pope. He escorted us into his home-office, and we discussed life, kids, and religion over chai tea and halvah. I was fascinated by his belief that everyone can be a Sikh, and that anyone who lives by the positive principles of Sikhism IS a Sikh whether they know it or not. He expressed his concern over the negative influence of media on the youngest generation, and we chatted about his religion’s marketing problem (of course)—the fact that most people think Sikhs are related to Moslems, and are all separatist terrorists—both terrible misconceptions. From all I saw, Sikhs, like Hindus and Buddhists, are incredibly spiritual, tolerant, charitable, and peaceful human beings. Perhaps, some day, when my Punjabi and his English improve, we can create an effective marketing plan together.