Amritsar….

Sunrise on the Golden Temple (Harmandir Sahib)

I know i whinge an awful lot on this blog, and im sure of the 60 or so people that read this thing ( i have the stats) most of you have rolled your eyes already and are about to switch over to something more interesting, but before you do that let me assure you this entry will not be in that mould at all. It is after all many many years since i’ve been able to cross something off of my “things to do before i die” list, and thankfully i have done exactly that with my recent trip to Amritsar.

For those of you that aren’t aware i have decided to return to Sydney early. There is far too much risk associated with me travelling solo due to my passport details, so im waiting out my last week or so in Mumbai shopping and indulging every gastronomic fantasy i have (next week is rasgulla night, which will be followed by paneer tikka masala night, which will be followed by paneer tikka biryani night). I remember in my last post ending with a sentence that stated i should make the most out of this “nothingness” that i was experiencing, and i guess i did just that when i booked my cousin and myself in to fly to Amritsar for a day or two.

Probably one of the most important things for me to see during this trip was the Golden Temple (or to be precise Harmandir Sahib). I know there is an awful lot to see in India and im sure i will eventually get to see it but this place has always held a special place in my heart and being able to see it, being able even on some level to “feel” it is a memory i will cherish till i breathe my last. I have honestly vowed to visit Amritsar every single time i am in India from this day forth, without a doubt there is a magic there that i am definitely not capable of surmising in words, but that won’t stop me from trying.

We began our journey to Amritsar as guests of Dr Malliya, a quick stop over in Delhi (which was also quite special for me, an entry i will save for later) and we were catching a small, cramped, rickety flight into Amritsar airport. The landing was a borderline calamity and our disgruntled pilot swerved the plane around as if it were his “Baap’s” (a reference that will probably make more sense in Hindi, but Baap refers to father, and Pilot Jose was driving the plane like a spoilt teenager would his fathers Benz). Before i knew it we were in a taxi and on our way to Amritsar City to find a hotel and take our first glimpse of the Temple, i must admit the excitement to see something that only days ago felt like an impossibility was boiling over and after dropping my luggage off and taking a quick shower i was knocking on my cousins door and asking him to accompany me, it was his third trip so my excitement was lost on him but luckily he obliged and we were on our way.

We reached the main entrance to the temple and upon seeing the entrance i was rather disappointed. I had immeasurably high expectations of what i was going to see, and a feeling of dread over came me as i believed at that point anyway that the temple wouldn’t be as beautiful as i had imagined. For some reason i was expecting grandeur from the get go and thought i was in for plummeting disappointment yet again, but as i scarfed my hair washed my feet and raised my head to look through the entrance, i was amazed at just how beautiful the Golden Temple was. We had reached during the afternoon so the domes of the mandir (temple) were catching and reflecting the sunlight, creating an unalloyed gold sheen that was beautifully reflected in the sky blue pond of water (or “Amrit Sarovar” from which the city gets its name) surrounding it. It was perfection, and i don’t mince my words for a second. I would be a fool to say i was not overcome with emotion, a mish mash of awe, reverence, gratitude, and pure joy had entered me, “The Word Sublime” was manifest infront of my very eyes and i ran down the stairs of the entrance and prostrated in complete reverence, my forehead placed on the cold marble for longer than most as i spoke a few silent words to myself. I was in Amritsar, i was seeing the Golden Temple, i was blessed, i knew it, and it was then that i knew this trip no longer was the disaster i had spoken of previously. A definite balance had been brought into the cosmic calamity that was my Indian odyssey, and all the bitterness and resentment of the last few weeks simply melted away, i was at peace with India, and was convinced she no longer hated me.

Lining up to enter the Temple

We began our journey around the Sarovar circling the actual mandir (temple), my cousin a Sikh himself explaining to me the significance of all that we encountered, it was a learning experience even though i had grown up with many Sikhs as a child, and a Gurudwara (Sikh temple) is by no means an alien place to me, I have always for some strange reason felt more at home there than i have a temple. My respect for Sikhism and Sufism for that matter too has been with me since i was eleven and luckily enough for me it was something encouraged by my rather spiritual and open minded parents. I don’t say this in an attempt to paint myself as a spiritual person, Lord knows i am borderline agnostic at times, and that my bitterness with certain established movements that have played a large part in my upbringing have in recent times left me questioning even that. But i can’t deny a belief in the universality of all religions, in a belief of inherent human divinity and in the equality of all in front of a higher power whatever he or she maybe. So when we made the final turn of the Sarovar and entered the line that would lead me to the inner sanctum of the Golden Temple where the Guru Granth (original Sikh holy book) is kept, i felt for the first time in my life a communal oneness with those around me, a single communal focus of reverence, and a congregation so egalitarian that i knew for the first time what true equality is. Amritsar at that point became the culmination of 22 years of spiritual theory that had previously failed to experience true egalitarianism anywhere. For all the theory that had been taught to me i have been unable to digest aristocracy as a side effect of institutionalised spiritual thought. This has never been the fault of those embodying the oneness, to blame are those who in their stupor have mangled instruction to suit their own needs and sadly many of us have quietly accepted it. Perhaps i am too Marxist in my views that i cannot accept hierarchy within the allegedly spiritual, but within Amritsar i felt we were all “red” spiritually at least to some degree, and the disappointment i had felt with a recent pilgrimage to a separate place of worship, mixed with what i believed to be the failure of my trip to India, then spontaneously deciding to go to Amritsar, seeing the Granth, bowing my head in reverence, drinking of the Amrit (the water of the sarovar) and exiting the abode was a mandala of action that when viewed from atop had come full circle and created an experience that has now renewed me and for that i will always love Amritsar. It has filled me with a hope, that had gone brittle, and renewed an idealism that had soured long long ago.

I must confess this post hadn’t gone the way i intended, the plan was to surmise the actual trip and go into its intricate details, breaking down my daily visits to Harmandir Sahib bit by bit, describing the happenings from the western eye, David Attenborough wild life documentary-esque, but i failed. Whilst typing, the images i had described earlier came rushing back, and i couldn’t help but translate what i felt. The finer details of the temple, its historical and political significance are important details that deserve mention, but they can be found elsewhere by someone who is an authority on the issue, i can only write about what i felt, that is the only authority i have and with that i am comfortable, my apologies to those that may have wanted something more informative in design, the post did start out that way and i may have laid the bait for it, but i came to the conclusion midway through the piece that i would be more myself if i wrote what i felt, and what i felt at Amritsar for the entire day and a half i was there was something special, to me anyway. Wether i will take this learning with me from this day forth will be a test of character, one that i can’t say with confidence i will succeed at, but for now i will do what i did at 5am on Thursday morning as i sat just outside the inner sanctum of the temple, listening to the kirtans (devotional hymns) that were being sung as the Granth was revered immediately opposite me, cracklings of the rising sun spiriting the sky… basking simply basking in the magic of one of the few places in the world that holds out on its promise of divine egalitarianism, then closing my eyes and feeling it, my idealism renewed.

-n-

Random Thought #2

On Parthi….

The bus from Parthi to Bangalore weaves through kilometer upon kilometer of dry barren land. The sun sets on the horizon and a turbaned farmer stares at it, squatting in his dhothi, one hand on his left temple in contemplation. He is in the middle of a drought and the look he gives the sun is a confused cross between hatred, surrender, respect and philosophical aloofness…i watch him and then watch the sun, I can’t help but relate and mimic his stare, after all i feel the same way about Parthi, its at this juncture RA Scion and the Common Market poignantly make their entrance with Tobacco Road;

” I just had to go, had it with the status quo
They’re askin’ me if I’ll be back when I’m old
In fact, no – these are my last tracks along Tobacco Road

But I’ll forever call it home
And I feel it whenever I call home”

…..And like a little wave it crashes over me, this maybe my last trip here  but it is not “home” like the poet describes, nor does it insight any feeling similair to “home”, if anything, it manifests an obligation that i feel has now melted away. It wasn’t like this in the past, in the past i had convinced myself this was the centre of the universe and coming here was the cliched “recharging of batteries”. I was to put it bluntly happy to play the part, but now its different. Maybe i’m older, maybe i’m bitter, maybe i just don’t fit in, maybe i finally understand that my place is distantly in the middle…… but Parthi and its people have lost me. It isn’t something tragic and it isn’t a deeply wounded loss, it is just what it is.

The true basis of Parthi i doubt will ever leave me though, it has gifted me what i have today and for that i am grateful. But i cannot be like they are… it isn’t me and i don’t think i can put the mask back on and play the part, if anything i’m happy to dig a hole, bury it and walk right away……

The bus chugs away even further from the villages and i realize that i haven’t left “home” behind……. if anything i’m heading strongly towards it…

-n-

Random Thought #1

The Foreign Exchange plays “Be Alright” on my ipod as we drive through Mumbai, Median cavorts feel good lyrics with ease;

“The pain that you know, the evil you see

I got a feeling that were gonna be all right,

everything’s gonna be all right”

On my left a brother and sister take a bath under the cool shade of a traffic light, their home a traffic island amidst the carnage of a hundred thousand cars, trucks and rickshaws….i repeat to myself the chorus with one eye on the brother and sister…

“The pain that you know, the evil you see

I got a feeling that were gonna be all right”

…..and i genuinely wonder where the f&^k Median gets his confidence from….

-n-

Still here…

This photo has nothing to do with this post....i just like it

This is me channeling my frustrations. I’m typing on my laptop, the very smooth soundings of the Cinematic Orchestra gently massage my ears. Within the confines of my chunky Sennheisers Fontella Bass’s voice drips honey, “All that you are, All that you have, All that you give”, i attempt to decrypt it hoping to find some answers to my current situation within the very simple lyrics of the song…. Nope, nothing, nada, keep typing fool. A single incense stick burns infront of me, the product of my Aunt’s daily devotion. I stare at it, believing it to be the one icon of zen that may bring balance to the tired and hopeless terrain that is my conscious at this very moment. My conscience, responds to the situation with the raspy wit i have come to expect from it “You don’t do Zen” it says abruptly and then proceeds to change the topic, a tactic that more often than not leads to me wasting the day in escapism “How hot is DIora Baird?” he exclaims with the excitement of a puppy. I quietly pat it on its head, i will not waste my day googling “the hotness of Diora Baird”… at least not today. So for now i will continue to channel the frustrations of this trip, in words…..lets begin;

By now you all probably know things haven’t gone to plan in India. I am struggling, been here six weeks and haven’t done an awful lot, some will blame me, infact most people blame me, but i know i have tried, several times as well to break free and infact “travel” only to be catapulted right back to whence i began. I can’t help but feel as though the trip thus far has been a bit of a bad investment. I should’ve seen the signs in the beginning and the many many more signs that followed, the refusal of the 6 month visa by the Indian embassy in Australia, the attacks in Mumbai, a high alert (and justifiably so) India leading to a more complicated stay for those of us born across the border, a disastrous night in Bangalore where i missed a train to Kerala due to overbooked seats, being man handled at Bangalore train station and me reacting rather primitively with my fists, a solo attempt to book a hotel in central Mumbai only to run away in fear after being asked to show my passport (a gesture which if complied with could very easily lead to a face to face meeting with the police for me), missing out on a film workshop by Sudhir Mishra and Mira Nair as a result of the aforementioned, a roadtrip to inner Maharashtra that left me sick as a dog through the new year, NGO’s that once promised co-operation in my research turning their backs on me (leading to me having to can the documentary idea…for this trip at least) and now the latest snag a complete freeze on my credit cards and debit cards for reasons unknown, rendering me unable to transact anything online. Fun, fun, fun, but i shouldn’t complain all that much, i have people in Mumbai so for all the whingeing i get to be at home with family and friends, an option that is far superior than being stranded in an alien town and knowing nobody. So for that i am grateful. But a part of me yearns for the thrill, for the solitude of a backpack and a dusty road, i feel as though i may never ever really experience the high of real backpacking and i genuinely cant envisage myself seeing anything outside of Mumbai, i don’t say that seeking pity or anything like that. It’s just that i feel as though the fight really has left me and I’ve given up on planning and doing anything, partly out of fear partly out of resignation. I stand firmly between these two posts, just living, not really doing.

I’ve had the privilege of growing up in a highly spiritual household, Kabir, Gibran, Yogananda, Vivekananda are names I’ve grown up with, and its not uncommon to find my parents locked in discussion as to the mechanics of the Gita on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. I went to a secular version of Sunday school since i was a child and as a result have plenty of life long friends who have had a similarly gnostic upbringing, the result is a bunch of friends who rationalise everything with a spiritual twang. So when the Indian sob story was retold by yours truly in the comforts of gmail with emoticons and all to highlight my pain, the responses i received would make even the biggest spiritual swindler blush. I was told to surrender my will to the powers that be by doing nothing (laziness comes naturally to me so this is an option i am taking up with great gusto), i was told that i was in all probability burning bad karma through this process and that things would surely turn around sometime soon, i was told that maybe my birth charts were not “travel friendly”, i was even told that by doing “nothing” i was infact doing “something” to better my trip and that i should learn from the nothingness and embrace the inactivity. Each rationalisation was like a metal tipped Colorado boot to my groin, and as great as spiritual rationalisations may look on paper and in all the guidebooks, when you’re stuck in a rut, cornered with almost every option cut off due to powers outside of your control you can’t help but feel as though almost everything is a cop out. I don’t know what i’ve learnt in my six weeks here, but a life lesson amongst them there definitely is not.

I think alot of this is my own fault in one way and in one way alone. I have emotionally invested far too much in this trip. I have put all my eggs in the one basket….. a part of me wants to travel yes, but an even greater part hopes that the liberation of solo travel will unlock a level of self knowledge that i had equated with prolonged solitude. This desperate reliance on India to be that substrate upon which i gather my life epiphany is driving that very experience away from me, i want a life changing experience so badly that fate is keeping it out of reach, maybe I’m not ready for the trappings that come along with this level of knowledge? Maybe i need to stop wanting? Maybe you just cannot force yourself to learn anything and true learning comes only through experience? I think all this disappointment is really starting to affect my brain and I’m organically starting to dole out the very same faux-remedial kernels of spiritual nothingness that my friends were showering upon me earlier. I don’t know….. for now i remain utterly confused and desperate, without any answers for the future, without any plans. Firmly, firmly placed between the granite walls of fear and resignation….i should probably make the most of this “nothingness” …..

-n-

Happy New Year!

Ahmednagar

Reds, yellows, pinks and greens (no blues sadly), but the aforementioned mosaic of colour was infact my last three meals combined that i just threw up in a lovely vintage pink ceramic basin here in Ahmednagar, Maharashtra. I’m sickly and for some reason inspired to write SOMETHING for my rather malnourished little blog, so here we go.

Were only three and a half hours from 2009 here in India it’s already the new year back home in Sydney, and i must admit i am missing my people at this very moment. Would genuinely do anything for a few sms’s from my Sydney mates, but i guess i must settle with what the situation has given me. I remember this time last year and think about just how different my life was back then….comfortable is probably the best way to put it. A comfort ability that was beginning to gnaw at me and loosen what little foundation of being I may have had.

2008 has been the most eventful year of my life, yes thats probably a big call seeing as i’m really not that old but its the truth. Im not going to lionise myself and say i have overcome hurdles the size of mountains this year or anything even closely resembling that, my life in comparison to most peoples is a piece of cake, so complain i not. But for the rather sheltered 26 years i have had on this planet of ours i have gone through a few things that have forced me to really cut the anchor and let go. Relationships were ended , work allegiances severed, careers reconsidered, my mettle tested in one moment in February that has forever shaken me and now this trip here to a country i have always considered my muse (none of the above i regret though, i needed to experience all of them, and they needed to happen). This really is the furthest i have been from myself let alone my rather comfortable and to a mild degree privileged north shore existence, and what have i learnt?… I am a creature of comfort. Seeking comfort is almost always my first instinct, its a trait i am not at all proud off, it encourages one to never ever really test themselves and i think people who allow this characteristic to consume their behaviour and personality never ever leave a comfort zone that can do more damage than it can good. The trinkets are nice but they are familiar, and familiarity in my opinion breeds mediocrity of being. Something i fear for myself as i realise more and more that six weeks into this trip i have left my comfort zone maybe once. It’s rather disappointing and it shows how engrained into my psyche this disease is. I have decorated my rationalisations with an infinite number of rather creative scenarios that don’t do much for me, anything becomes an excuse, and right now my excuse has been my passport and the recent terrorist activity in Mumbai. Some would say fair enough the environment isn’t conducive to your search, but maybe i’m letting “them” win. Maybe the fact that i’m in Ahmednagar right now is a subconscious plot to remain comfortable amongst friends and family? I can’t really say i know…… everytime i fight against this quantum force i find myself right back where i began, in the comforts of home. Is this a test? Is this India saying im not ready for her? Should i let it guide me or should i throw myself into it and let it gnash away at me with its dusty stone teeth, its raspy arid tongue (i’m in inner Maharashtra in the winter….i write only what i see) and regurgitate me out as a sturdy emerald of inner strength? (Forgive me for the vomit metaphor i am still suffereing from the after effects of my stomach bug both physiologically and creatively) Again i am searching for the answer but my inner voice for years bound, blindfolded and gagged to a rather rickety old chair says push on and throw yourself out there……so with that thought and three hours till midnight i will begin my Indian new year… amidst the vow of uncomfortability. Maybe i’ll give her a call and tell her how i feel, maybe i’ll catch a train to Srinagar and run the risk of arrest, maybe i’ll do that helicopter ride of the Sunderbans i’ve always wanted to do, maybe i’ll go home and re-think the documentary and focus on rural Aboriginal communities instead? I really can’t say what i’ll do, India hasn’t given me the answers i’ve wanted, maybe i should just straight up ask myself instead and address the real problem? It’s obvious i go into 2009 rather confused, hopefully i will come out of it a little wiser…..anyway Happy New Year from sunny Ahmednagar guys, hope to see you all soon.

-n-