A visit to the holy town of Amritsar was long pending. Finally, in November, we made a trip, set out with one more family. We traveled by road, in our scorpio. Delhi to Amritsar is almost a 6-7 hour journey, and with kids, you tend to stop frequently, we still managed to reach by 5pm.
Being the impulsive sorts, when it comes to traveling, we just decided overnight, we entered the city without an accommodation. Thankfully, got rooms in a star hotel, which was not really expensive. Freshened up and set out to visit the Golden Temple. A step inside the Gurudwara, and you know in your heart that you have entered a place of tranquility. The 'seva' done by the Sikh community is overwhelming. Most of them, doing the 'seva' have their fancy sedans or SUV's parked outside, they are so humble inside, that it can put you to shame. From collecting slippers to wiping the floor of the Gurudwara, to serving the 'langar' or 'kada prasad', they do everything.
Not just the adults, the children also were doing their bit enthusiastically. We spent about four hours in the Gurudwara. Under the moonlit night, the golden dome was in it's full beauty.
The 'langar' is the most simple and the most tasty food I ever had. Consisting of dal, rotis, and a meetha rice, it was simply superb. I walked out, feeling humbled.
We strolled around the market place, near the Gurudwara, bought the kadas, and some Punjabi Juttis, before we crashed.
The next day, after a sumptuous breakfast at the hotel, we went to Jallianwala Bagh. I had goosebumps when I stepped in. I had promised my son, that I would narrate the whole history of how General Dyer had ordered the killing of innocents who had gathered to celebrate Baisakhi and were protesting peacefully. What I didn't know was that I would tremble, when I actually visit the place. I had also read about it in school, but the impact this place had was different. To see the well, and to visualise that hundreds of people and children jumped into this to save themselves, but finally succumbed to death was horrifying. Before, I could narrate the incident to the kids, I took few minutes to gather myself up.
We went to the Purana bazar, to indulge in some retail therapy. I was dazzled by the beautifully embroidered phulkaris. To my surprise, I bought 4 phulkari dupattas, with my husband giving me shocked expressions. All he asked was do I plan to ever wear it? Or use them as drapes? Considering that I always pull up a jeans.. Well, I just ignored the smart comment and bought some phulkari suit material also. For my sis as well.
The bright coloured duppatas and sarees, and dress materials..Wow!!
Sitting over here, firstly, you are in a state of trance, as you really can't believe that out of all the places in the world, you are actually sitting on a "No Man's land" area, famously known as the "Enemy lines" considering the Indo Pak relations. And that Lahore is literally next door. I took both the kids up the aisle, I could see questions popping in their eyes. I showed them the beautiful fields, on both sides and asked, "Do you see anything different?" They said NO. I said, that people across the border are just like us, but, courtesy, the politics, and some people who believe in taking a wrong step to make things right, these two countries have always been on Line of fire.
We sat down to watch the ceremony. The Jawans played some patriotic song, and the crowd was dancing, cheering, shouting "Hindustan Zindabad". From across the gate, you could hear music, and the crowd there cheering, "Pakistan Zindabad". Suddenly it turned into a competition. From the height at which I was sitting, as far as I could see, across the gate, I only saw colours. And I am sure, somebody sitting there must be thinking the same. I don't understand politics, so I just left it at that, focused on the ceremony.
Every BSF Jawan there was about 7ft tall. Immaculately dressed in their uniform, they marched towards the gate - two at a time, the same thing happened there also.
My joy knew no bounds, when I saw two women BSF Jawans, marching tall, in their gaiety, with their head held high, body in rhythm, in sync with each other. I was so proud to be a woman, and that is when I pointed out to my son, that see there is nothing a woman can't do. Just few days before this trip, I had told him about more women applying for the Defence Services, and I was happy that I actually got to show it to him. My friend and me were thrilled to see the female Jawans.
The actual Flag ceremony lasts only for 5 minutes, but the entire episode, is of an hour approximately. Sitting over there, wearing a tri-coloured duppata (Yes I had got a dupatta dyed in the colours of the flag ;)) and looking at our National Flag, I realized what it is to feel for your country. In those 60 minutes, I forgot about the irritating traffic, the rapes and molestations, the garbage being thrown around in places of National Heritage, I ignored the gang in front of me, throwing popcorn covers here and there. All I remembered was that I am an Indian, I belong to a nation, where people gave their lives to achieve this freedom for us, who are living and breathing it every minute. Freedom to be!
It's a feeling which you can't describe in words. You have to be there to experience it. You are a different person, when you step inside the gate which has "INDIA" written on it.
I walked out, feeling proud.
Walked out, happy, to have finally made the trip. Just wished if people would respect the sacrifices of the millions who died fighting for us, instead of throwing garbage around in places like Jallianwala Bagh.
We had an early dinner, at one of the oldest dhabas, called 'Pahrawan da dhaba'. Finger licking food. We just gorged.
Crashed and woke up the next day to pack and leave. I bowed down at the direction of Golden Temple and zoomed off.
Being the impulsive sorts, when it comes to traveling, we just decided overnight, we entered the city without an accommodation. Thankfully, got rooms in a star hotel, which was not really expensive. Freshened up and set out to visit the Golden Temple. A step inside the Gurudwara, and you know in your heart that you have entered a place of tranquility. The 'seva' done by the Sikh community is overwhelming. Most of them, doing the 'seva' have their fancy sedans or SUV's parked outside, they are so humble inside, that it can put you to shame. From collecting slippers to wiping the floor of the Gurudwara, to serving the 'langar' or 'kada prasad', they do everything.
Not just the adults, the children also were doing their bit enthusiastically. We spent about four hours in the Gurudwara. Under the moonlit night, the golden dome was in it's full beauty.
The 'langar' is the most simple and the most tasty food I ever had. Consisting of dal, rotis, and a meetha rice, it was simply superb. I walked out, feeling humbled.
We strolled around the market place, near the Gurudwara, bought the kadas, and some Punjabi Juttis, before we crashed.
The next day, after a sumptuous breakfast at the hotel, we went to Jallianwala Bagh. I had goosebumps when I stepped in. I had promised my son, that I would narrate the whole history of how General Dyer had ordered the killing of innocents who had gathered to celebrate Baisakhi and were protesting peacefully. What I didn't know was that I would tremble, when I actually visit the place. I had also read about it in school, but the impact this place had was different. To see the well, and to visualise that hundreds of people and children jumped into this to save themselves, but finally succumbed to death was horrifying. Before, I could narrate the incident to the kids, I took few minutes to gather myself up.
We went to the Purana bazar, to indulge in some retail therapy. I was dazzled by the beautifully embroidered phulkaris. To my surprise, I bought 4 phulkari dupattas, with my husband giving me shocked expressions. All he asked was do I plan to ever wear it? Or use them as drapes? Considering that I always pull up a jeans.. Well, I just ignored the smart comment and bought some phulkari suit material also. For my sis as well.
The bright coloured duppatas and sarees, and dress materials..Wow!!
Last on our must visit list was the Wagah border. Approximately 30 kms from the city, with Attari being the last village on the Indian border, we drove down to see the Flag Downing ceremony at the border gates. We halted at the BSF station for about half an hour to collect our passes. As we were driving, we came across this signboard:
I pinched myself, to check if I was dreaming. Pakistan - the name just kept ringing in my head. Really? Pakistan?
We sat down to watch the ceremony. The Jawans played some patriotic song, and the crowd was dancing, cheering, shouting "Hindustan Zindabad". From across the gate, you could hear music, and the crowd there cheering, "Pakistan Zindabad". Suddenly it turned into a competition. From the height at which I was sitting, as far as I could see, across the gate, I only saw colours. And I am sure, somebody sitting there must be thinking the same. I don't understand politics, so I just left it at that, focused on the ceremony.
Every BSF Jawan there was about 7ft tall. Immaculately dressed in their uniform, they marched towards the gate - two at a time, the same thing happened there also.
My joy knew no bounds, when I saw two women BSF Jawans, marching tall, in their gaiety, with their head held high, body in rhythm, in sync with each other. I was so proud to be a woman, and that is when I pointed out to my son, that see there is nothing a woman can't do. Just few days before this trip, I had told him about more women applying for the Defence Services, and I was happy that I actually got to show it to him. My friend and me were thrilled to see the female Jawans.
The actual Flag ceremony lasts only for 5 minutes, but the entire episode, is of an hour approximately. Sitting over there, wearing a tri-coloured duppata (Yes I had got a dupatta dyed in the colours of the flag ;)) and looking at our National Flag, I realized what it is to feel for your country. In those 60 minutes, I forgot about the irritating traffic, the rapes and molestations, the garbage being thrown around in places of National Heritage, I ignored the gang in front of me, throwing popcorn covers here and there. All I remembered was that I am an Indian, I belong to a nation, where people gave their lives to achieve this freedom for us, who are living and breathing it every minute. Freedom to be!
It's a feeling which you can't describe in words. You have to be there to experience it. You are a different person, when you step inside the gate which has "INDIA" written on it.
I walked out, feeling proud.
Walked out, happy, to have finally made the trip. Just wished if people would respect the sacrifices of the millions who died fighting for us, instead of throwing garbage around in places like Jallianwala Bagh.
We had an early dinner, at one of the oldest dhabas, called 'Pahrawan da dhaba'. Finger licking food. We just gorged.
Crashed and woke up the next day to pack and leave. I bowed down at the direction of Golden Temple and zoomed off.
As usual beautifully written. JW always bring tears. Its our dream too to visit wagah border and JW site and Amritsars golden temple. Lets see when it happens. Keep writing
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