Ahhh Amristsar

Only in India can one accidentally mistake a crematorium for a temple, only to be warmly welcomed, given a tour and encouraged to take pictures. Just one moment of what turned out to be an absolutely wonderful day. Yes, that is India, a place where the joy of living, leads those running a crematorium, (likely from the now illegal 'untouchable' caste-- a caste outside of the system; generations charged with doing work considered unpleasant and dirty) to laugh and play while once living, breathing bodies slowly turn to ash. This, coupled with a never-ending curiousity and a general respect given to foreigners, made my visit to the crematorium surprisingly pleasant. People there gathered around to shake my hand and ask me questions, while a young man in his early 20s took particular pride in showing me 'dead bodies', most decomposed beyond recognition aside from a clearly visible skull. That is life here. So vibrant and alive. Children playing next to funeral pyres. A normal process. Another day at the office.

Sat Sri Akal from Amritsar, site of the Golden Temple and Sikhism's holiest site. An impressive building guilded in gold and majestically placed in the center of a sorovar (holy pond). From each and every angle, the temple is impressive as the light bounces differently from each side and during each hour of the day. The water surrounding gives the place an ephemeral feel and the reflection makes is seem as if the building is floating. Surrounded by marble buildings and walkways, one navigates the contour of the area as Sikh pilgrims, the men turbaned and bearded, the women in typical Punjabi suits (three piece outfits brightly coloured and decorated in embroidery and beading of all varieties) or magnificently coloured sarees, kneel down in prayer, often looking up to God above. Some bathe in the waters, the sarovar said to have healing properties. Some drink from the holy pool. The main temple is richly decorated in embroidery, mirrored walls and rich carpeting. During peak day time hours people line up outside for their chance to go in. A visit through the temple's three floors reveals richness and a faith that is tangible. The religiosity and energy of the place is undeniable. As I visit the main building, I am compelled to take a few moments pause. I sit on the rich red paterned carpet of the second floor and take some time to reflect. To feel the energy and the fervor that surrounds me. To say a small prayer of gratitude for all of the abundance in my life. Yes, I rather like the Golden Temple, it is a calm oasis in the sometimes maddening pace that lies outside the gates. I am staying at the guest house for pilgrims and eating at the massive communal kitchen that serves warm vegetarian meals free to tens of thousands of people a day. The kitchen a volunteer effort, as the faithful sit in rows chopping vegetables, washing dishes at rows of industrial sized sinks, and stiring giant cauldrons of dal (lentil stew) slowly cooking over massive fires. The guest house is a hubub of activity. Morningtime a flurry of colour and sound as people awake and prepare to tackle the day ahead. The rooms all full, night reveals a sea of believers camped out in the building's vast courtyard. I feel an immense sense of love as I navigate my way through the sleeping bodies towards the bathroom. Aunties, uncles, young and old, all camped out together. In one giant sleep. In an immensely holy place. Sound under the calm skies. Safe under the warm blanket of sleep.