Temples and Trauma

Temples.....

As luck would have it, in Rishikesh I happened to see a friendly girl called Anya who I'd met earlier at the Organic Farm in Nepal. How we happened to meet in the huge crowds of orange pilgrims is beyond me but its another one of those funny coincidences that seems to happen a great deal when you travel and being a white girl alone in the street, she didn't exactly blend in. We decided to quickly up and leave Rishikesh and head to the wonderful Golden Temple located in Amritsar, in the state of Punjab.

A picture perfect image of the Golden Temple

The Golden Temple is renowned by Sikhs around the world. I've learnt much about Buddhism and Hinduism whilst being away, but Sikhism I knew very little of so this was an opportunity to learn more. Sikhism evolved at a time in which the caste system was still very much entrenched and your caste (social standing) really did define how you were treated and your life prospects. As a result of the Sikh's beliefs there is no charge for entering the Golden Temple as they strongly believe that all beings are equal regardless of their race, country, caste, age, gender etc. From what I experienced they are also extremely friendly and kind. The atmosphere in the temple itself was so calm and tranquil and I felt like we were able to walk around freely without being hassled, which is certainly not always the case in India. The temple is also a world away from what it is like outside in the stuffy, polluted, busy city of Amritsar.

Walking around the temple before the monsoon rains set it

Thanks to the generosity of the Sikhs and their willingness to teach other about their religion, I also had the honor of staying for a night in the onsite dorm, again free of charge. The room was pretty full and I had to share a bed with Anya, but it was part of the fun, it really created a sense of unity. It was a great experience to sit on the floor with hundreds of others and eat in the large food hall which is run completely by volunteers. It's really an impressive operation to watch twenty people who are there just peeling vegetables and another thirty who are there just to wash up plates. I have much respect for these people. But my highlight has to be waking up at 3am to go to the toilet (no not this in itself) but having to walk through a large open courtyard full of about two hundred people all lying on the ground on scarves and mats, fast asleep, looking so peaceful.

Trauma.....

The next destination was town of Bagsu set in the Himalayas of Himanchal Pradesh and widely recommended to me by other travellers. My relationship with Bagsu was eventually a long and sordid love affair which got off to a rocky start. Already going home was beginning to enter my stream of consciousness because of the amount I had been sick and the following events only set to convince me that it really was time to leave.

I was becoming weary of being conned and having to be on my guard. In an attempt to find some light relief I tried out 'Laughter Yoga' for the first time. How can you go wrong with laughing? Who doesn't want to laugh? But it just became a very weird situation as it was just myself, Anya and the teacher who turned out to be another one of those Indian men who like to touch and watch Western women using the guise of 'yoga teacher'. Grrrrrr. The class consisted of us having to 'fake laugh' in many different styles (on your back kicking and screaming like a child, giggling like a girl, doing a huge bold manly laugh etc). Perhaps in a different setting with friends it could be greatly amusing but I never realised how hard it is to laugh when that is what you have to do - the frustration of trying to get a real laugh out, can the teacher tell that I am still faking it?! Only I can get into these weird situations. I definitely got some real laughs out, its hard not to when a crazy Indian sticks his tounge out and growls like a lion 10 inches from your face, but it all felt too artificial. Also what kind of respectable yoga teacher asks you for a hug at the end of your lesson? Then I encountered the seemingly innocent monk who wanted me to teach him English but it turned out he just wanted to touch my leg. I was also surprised when I heard him speak to someone else at my guesthouse the next day with miraculously improved English!

These kinds of things started to drive me a bit up the wall. Following a night of more stomach problems, where I had to keep getting up and running outside into the cold through the rain, down the steps to get to the bathroom, I had really had enough. I booked my flight home and felt like it was a sign that it was the right time............but was it?