Day 2 – Friday 15th November 2019 – Amritsar

No time for a lie in…we have a fantastic country to explore!

We plan to head for the centre of Amritsar this morning and visit the Partition Museum. Ideally, we needed to get going by 09:30. We planned to have a rushed breakfast at 0830.

I take a long look out of window as the ever lovely heads for the shower. The smog is is still there looking like a yellow green blanket. There is a long queue of rickshaws at the petrol station below filling up for the days journeys. There is a cow in the central reservation of the Grand Trunk Road (GTR) lorries, cars buses and Auto Rickshaws rushing past inches from its resting form. Later I asked our guide why they cling to the central reservation when it is obviously fraught with danger; apparently the rush of air created by the passing traffic keeps the flies away. Cows are sacred in India…you find them everywhere and often in the most unexpected places. 

08:45. Breakfast was my idea of heaven! Idlis, sambal, chilly, chutneys puri etc etc. Lassi, a thick yoghurt drink, and spicy Chai Massala tea on tap. Yes, curry for breakfast that’s me every day given the choice! Susan had a more traditional take with fresh fruit and a pancake. Yes, we overstayed our welcome. Yes, we were late into breakfast and even later out than planned and we still have to get some Rupees. Thankfully reception could exchange Sterling for Rupees @83:1. 

I asked the Concierge the best way to get to the museum. Auto Rickshaw? The concierge suggested hotel car or taxi. I asked which was cheaper and immediately felt like a cheap skate! He took me aside and said quietly ‘taxi’. Phoned one on his iPhone and then airdropped a screen shot of the booking which I had to show the driver. 

The Grand Trunk Road (GTR) was a little busier now than in the early hours of the morning. There were lane markings on the three lane road but no one driving seemingly knew of their existence. Given the chance drivers try to straddle two lanes… I am sure all three if they could work out a way to do it. As we approached the cow on the central reservation a lorry decided to pull out in front of us and missed the cow by millimetres.  In Italy you do not have to stop at a pedestrian crossing, the only requirement being that you miss the pedestrians. In India the same principle applies to cows but there are massive fines if your spatial judgement is awry! 

The Partition Museum is in what used to be the Town hall in the Raj days. A red brick late Victorian building that would not have been out of place in Holborn in London alongside the old prudential building. Half had been already renovated for the museum, rennovating half of the remainder was underway.

The remaining half of the unrenovated half had corrugated iron sheeting in the gaps between the brick pillars with plenty of evidence of habitation by the workers behind. Everyone seemed happily employed with the shortest possible commute to work. I had read the novel Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts shortly before our departure, in it he describes how, when there was a large construction project,  land was set aside for an official slum where the construction workers and  their families lived. In time these slums became permanent despite the efforts of the authorities to clear the dwellings beyond the boundary of the official slum boundary. it seems the authorities turn a blind eye on renovation sites also.

No photos were allowed in the museum…which is a little unusual for India. I would have sneaked a few but it was impossible to tell who was a curator and who a visitor. Though static with picture boards and static displays of artifacts it was an incredible exhibition. Covering the background to the imperial and internal politics and unrest in Punjab principally but other parts of India during the later years of the Raj. Starting pretty much with the Rowlatt Act in 1919 which gave the British rulers the ability to detain without reason and culminated in the horrors of the Jalianwala Bagh massacre of which more in the next episode. The concept of divide and rule which created deep divisions between the Muslim, Sikh and Hindu communities whichstill endure to this day. The exhibition ended with the refugee camps in Punjab and Haryana in 1947 and 1948.  Harrowing in places and enlightening in others with many personal stories of courage and valour.   We had planned on an hour, an hour and a half at most, we were there for two and a half hours! 

As we left the museum at the upper floor, having just passed the doves of peace mobile in the stairwell, we encountered a classic example of Indian health and safety. The ever lovely went to catch the lift down to the ground floor. Seeing the doorways open she went to enter the lift. I shouted for her to stop, noticing that whilst the door was indeed open the lift was at ground level. Such a shame as it was a beautifully modern lift but a hazard for all but the unwary. 

After leaving the museum and feeling a little emotionally shell shocked we had a short wander around, observing street life in its multitudinous layers. It was quite entrancing. We both had a chuckle at the man fast asleep on a bench with two hands firmly connected to the valuable source of his livelihood, a bicycle.

A quick chat with the ever lovely about what to do next, as we were both flagging we decided to head back to the hotel, me for a swim and the ever lovely to update her travel log. Walked to Auto Rickshaw rank and offered IRS100, the driver responded with IRS200, we agreed on IRS150. Bartering is the way forward in India yet you can’t help but think you’re still paying too much – job done!

I love riding in Auto Rickshaws, you feel so vulnerable but it is exhilarating. The roads he traversed were much narrower than we had encountered in the taxi and appeared to be one long market. Onto the GTR middle lane regardless of our speed and size relative to the other traffic. Marvelled at men choosing to climb onto the top of an empty bus rather than sit in relative comfort inside; apparently it is cheaper to do this.

We arrived back at the hotel but only had an INR200 note. The driver only had 10 rupees. He negotiated with the gate guard to park his Auto Rickshaw whilst he went over to the shopping mall to get 40 rupee change. I told him not to bother, thanked him for his honesty and told him to keep the change; it’s only 50p at the end of the day. He took some persuading that this was acceptable to us. This is typical of the average Indian, honest to their own detriment.

We were both feeling a little peckish so we went to see what was on offer at the Tarteria by reception. We are in India and someone in marketing decides to give the hotel snack bar a eurouplift. Suitalbly the cakes looked a little contrived, false cream and brightly coloured. However,  I was taken by the Lamb Kalkhi Tikka Kebab roll and the ever lovely by the Veggie Foccacia. A request for a cup of Massala chai for each of us and an impromptu addition of a Cinnamon donut to share and we settled down to wait.

Both meals were lovely with a chilli condiment and coriander dipping sauce with mine. As the tea came with a couple of shortbread biscuits each we really did not need the donut but devoured it all the same.

Up to the room to get my trunks and towel and off to the pool. Quick stop to see how the smog was faring, it was no better but some interesting photos with the slightly reddening sun heading towards the bank of smog before eventually hitting the horizon. Interesting lack of signage to guide our way to the pool but we eventually reached it about 4pm. The water was cool but refreshing and I swam with accompaniment from several Mynahs who had managed to get under the anti bird netting. 

The ever lovely sat on a sunbed and wrote her log. 

We watched as the sun set and the lights on the shopping mall next door became brighter. Nice to know H&M, Macdonalds and KFC have outlets in Amritsar. Nice for someone but not for us.

Back to the room for stage two of our relaxation period when with sudden realization we had to have dinner before our driver came to collect us for the evening highlight of the Palki ceremony at the golden temple. We had to throw some clothes on and get downstairs pronto. 

We had the choice of Buffet or A la Carte. The ever lovely (with her aversion to spicy) wasn’t too keen on the buffet as it meant she would have to eat spiced food only. Took a look at the menu and liked the look of that. I had punjabi rajma chaw  red kidney beans stewed with tomatoes & black cardamons and plenty of green chillis; The sauce was so rich with the cardamoms and almost black. I washed it down with a salty lassi. The ever lovely had a tomato, cheesy, zucchini timbale thing which was also delicious. She washed hers down with a sweet lassi. Though we were stuffed we followed up by sharing a baileys kulfi dessert which was enormous. I was stuffed and should have called a halt after the delicious beans.

At the start of the meal the waitress told me “you’re a foreigner” apparently she expected us to be part of a typical touring group. When I paid the bill she was at the counter and declared that I was her Indian now. The other waiter said “he can be my Indian as well” to which she responded “no he can’t he’s my Indian”. 

At 20:30 our guide Anil introduced himself in the foyer.  When I asked him how many times he had done the Golden Temple tour he replied it was his first time. I said that the ever lovely can guide us as she’s been there before. A joke which kept going all evening. Anil is not a Sikh he explains he is a Hindu. Every time we asked a question he responded “I will tell you about this tomorrow”. Anil is very quiet.  “We’ve got a rum one here!” We thought.

It got better!

Anil knew exactly where to stand and at what time so we saw the whole of the Palki ceremony followed by a very intimate tour of the Golden temple itself. 

So what do you know of the Palki? Not a lot we said. He explained that the Sikh holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib is displayed in the temple in the temple in the temple of the temple from about 04:00 in the morning until about 21:45 at night. Forgive my repetitions in the preceding sentence we follow a number of Indian sites and groups on the web and facebook. The translations, particularly for Malayalam, the language of Kerala, contain this repetitive style and often has us in hoots as we wade through the volume of words for meaning. 

The Palki ceremony is the preparation of a golden chariot (like an ornate sedan chair) by the most faithful, lots of trumpet blaring and procession into the temple. The book is transported  to the main building again with trumpets blaring, where it is placed on a litter, given a cup of cocoa and rocked to sleep. Anil had given us the prime viewing position. The attention to detail was phenomenal. Each item placed into the chariot was brushed, sprayed with fragrance and blessed. Garland upon garland of orange marigolds were placed over the chariot until the gold metal could hardly be seen. So off went the procession. As it disappeared through the ante chamber to the temple Anil told us it was time to go. I was a little disappointed as I wanted to see the return trip and the putting to bed. Reluctantly, we went off after him. 

Anil took us into a courtyard where there were more than a dozen small, 5 meter square rooms. In each room was a faithful Sikh reading the Guru Granth Sahib. In these rooms they continually read from the beginning to the end of the scripture and at the end of the 48 hours they start all over again. There was obviously a shift system as some rooms had spare faithful limbering up for their stint. Some had sleeping faithful who presumably had come off shift to rest. Anyway we weren’t really being dragged from the main event. Anil had carefully extracted us from the crowd and placed us in the perfect position to see the book being taken up the stair into the main building . Once again we couldn’t have had a better view.

After the ceremony Anil led us through the crowd to the temple itself. We followed his lead. He clearly had respect  and in himself was respected due to his sensitivity to the traditions and holy nature of the site. We were amazed by the vast amount of work undertaken by an army of volunteer followers. The site where the book lay during the day was completely changed for fresh, the brass work everywhere polished, I have never seen so much Brasso in my life. Outside the polishing continued every inch of the gold was polished no wonder it glows so much in the light of day and especially at night under the lights.  

When he had picked us up Anil ran through our itinerary for that night, the following morning tour and our trip to the Wagah border ceremony. “Oh, how exciting we did not think we had the border trip on our itinerary” we said. He checked and it turns out we didn’t. We said that we would like to do it if possible and he arranged for it. I asked how do we pay for it “Sir, my company will talk it through to you”. As I publish this many months after the event the company has still not talked it through with me”. The only detail Anil could give us was “small bag only at Wagah and take your passport”. Apparently Heera, our driver will take us there after the morning tour had finished.

Talking of Heera we found him waiting for us in a car park at the end of a dark, dark street which was dimly lit by several naked light bulbs from a streetside restaurant or dhaba.  

Back at the hotel as the excellent outing drew to a close and with our body clocks totally out of synch (it was only 5:30m back home) we decided to hit the hotel bar. We had time to get in one drink before being told the bar was closing…it was 23;30. I had two 500 ml Kingfishers as I was so thirsty I thought I would down the first before the glass hit the table. The ever lovely had some poncy cocktail. Back to the room by midnight realising neither of us had showered since morning, so a quick shower and Bed at 01:00.

Join me next week making chapattis and at the border crossing ceremony singing Jai Ho!

Missed an earlier Blog Read about it here