November trip to Amritsar

To ward off the melancholia induced by the rigmarole of our mundane routines, we, the three old friends with our wives decided to make a short trip to the foodies’ paradise to relish ‘Ambarsaria’ cuisine, among other things.

With cackling laughter almost rending the skies, we set off on a high note. Not exactly as smooth as the cheeks of an actress that our ailing politician Laalu Yadav once spoke of, the 4-laned GT road from Pathankot onwards made our journey fast and comfortable. However, in a way it was like air travel: bland and spiritless. We missed the sights and sounds of the towns so vibrantly alive with Punjab’s colourful and rich culture: no ganna-ras or gur- and shakkar-selling rehris and no sight of tall, brawny gabhru sherputtars, nor any sohniyan mutiaraan in sight to steal a sly, covetous look at!

We skipped having lunch at any roadside dhaba on purpose so as to have our very first meal at Amritsar. After checking in and refreshing ourselves, we headed off to the Town Hall and at rickshawalla’s insistence, went into the ‘Brothers dhaba’ abuzz with people. Defying age, ailments and all doctorly diktats, we gorged on the lachha paranthaas, maah-ki-daal topped with dollops of desi ghee, chaana/chhole and savoury raita to our hearts’ content. After this gastronomic indulgence it was now time for the spiritual one: food for soul. For: “भगति हीन गुन सब सुख ऐसे I लवन बिना बहु बिंजन जैसे I”

So after wandering around, awash with spiritual verve, we were at the one and only, ‘The Harmandir Sahib’ or ‘The Golden Temple’: a majestic tribute to the glory of Sri Guru Granth Sahib deeply revered not just by the Sikhs but people of all faiths and even the sinful semi-agnostics like me. The iconic Temple’s golden radiance, its artful architecture and carved inscriptions on the walls cast a magic spell that is beyond description. To enhance this rapture, there is the mellifluous, honeyed Gurbani dripping gently and unobtrusively into the barren wells of world-weary, impoverished human souls like dew drops from the very heavens … And with its squeaky clean floors/ corridors, the smooth, unhurried flow of pilgrims, the aesthetic grandeur, overall aura of bliss permeating every inch of its space – the incandescence of lights showering more magic to its ethereal beauty and majesty –  no one can leave the holy sanctum without feeling spellbound for life.

                                    

                   

                                       

Spiritually satiated, when later we returned to the hotel, fatigue was seeping into our not-so-young, travel-weary bones. Moreover, Amritsar’s balmy, hospitable autumnal evening was throwing coy, conspiratorial glances and whispering: “it is sundowner time folks.” So while the honourable lady-members wrinkled their noses at our tentative invite and the third friend flaunted his teetotaler card at us, we, the two older fellows, had our sipfuls amidst gupshup and laughter.

Our dinner in a nearby dhaba suggested by the hotel staff dampened our soaring spirits though. The food was just okay but all the rest about it wasn’t.

The next day – our last –  was to be hectic. After visiting the Durgiana temple first we headed off to the Jallianwalla Bagh. Though the Bagh’s recent (saffronized) renovation has evoked mixed reactions among the historians, the visit is always a somber moment for all. Looking at the bullet marks on the walls and the silently brooding ‘well of death’, everyone sheds tears - visible or invisible - at the brutal horror let loose by the British colonisers.

Next, it was shopping hour in the narrow lanes of Amritsar. We bought ‘gajak’, nuts, dry fruits etc. and, afterwards, were at the fancied ‘Kesar-da-dhaba’ for lunch feasting again on maah-ki-daal and chana/chhole.

It was now time to head for the unmissable Wagah border: to watch the spectacle where patriotic fervour soars sky high. The excited crowds on both sides of the blood-soaked, sad ‘DIVIDE’ shout slogans stoked by loud patriotic songs being blared out. Slogans chanted, the (exaggerated?) ‘Retreat Ceremony’ watched, high on adrenaline, we were now back to our hotel.

                                             

Though unfinished agenda dragged our steps back, and the festive, munificent Punjabi spirit of Amritsar beckoned us, the calls of unattended tasks at home were pressing us hard. After breakfast next morning, we were on the backward journey, headed north, but not without  glassfuls of fresh ganna-ras to drink and loads of gur and shakkar to buy from a rehri manned by a tall, gorgeous, friendly Punjabi couple, Laadi & Manjit, we found by chance.  However, their generous invite for a saag-makki-di-roti-lassi lunch at their home nearby we had to decline with heavy hearts.

Adieu Ambarsar; goodbye Laadi-Manjit, there’s always a next time.

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