Aaaaaahhhhhmritsaaaaaaar

I was sad to leave Orchard Hut, and I was especially sad to say bye to Sahil. It had been a while since having such meaningful conversations. I had learnt the morning we left that we were actually meant to be accompanied by another guide; an older, much more experienced (and much less good-looking) mountain guide. (I mean, he was ok…it’s just I’m in favour of…alright I’ll stop.) But some family matters came up and Sahil stepped in at the last minute to take his place. I smile at coincidences like that. It reminds me of how wondrous this Universe is…But the adventure must go on! Besides, with Facebook these days, goodbyes are just for now, not forever.

Our next stop was Amritsar via overnight sleeper train. I was a little ambivalent about it. I imagined it to be similar to our last public transportation experience, screeching round the sharp bends on rusty tracks, with the distinct difference of laying down, strapped to a lice-infested bed. To my epic relief the train was clean, well-serviced and the ride was lullaby smooth.

‘That washroom is filthy’ shuddered Adam. I quietly patted myself on the back for not eating or drinking too much to avoid that experience. We had air-conditioning, privacy curtains, crisp sheets to sleep on and be covered with (Adam: Bullocks! All these sheets are stained), a fluffy pillow, and to my amazement CUPHOLDERS. (Or is it cup-holders…?)

Anyway, it was nice to be rocked to sleep. I was taken back to the days when I was a wee little one being rocked in my mummy’s arms. When we woke up, not only were we in Amritsar on time, but on English Adam’s 31^st birthday! I really enjoyed his company throughout our tour. Both him and his lovely wife, Porcelain Joelle. They met at 16 and have been together since. They still look into each other’s eyes with adoration and fit so easily and comfortably into each other’s space. It’s when I see couples like that that makes me feel more hopeful for the concept of marriage.

To acknowledge the special day, I pulled out a pen and paper and delivered a singing telegram:

Happy Birthday, McNichol

Your hygiene standards are fickle

India’s been so much fun

Happy Birthday, Adam!

When we stepped off the train, we were all rudely struck in the face by the 51 degree heat. We all made a straight dash to the hotel and its air-conditioned rooms. Holy crap, it was hot. We waited till night fall before braving the stifling city again.

Amritsar is home of the Golden Temple. A sacred gold-plated temple that houses the Holy Book of... how embarrassing, I don’t actually know!! It was beautiful and mesmerizing, anyhow. The Golden Temple sat in the middle of a square body of holy water, glimmering and shimmering with religious glory.

There were so many people, all there to worship and be blessed by the temple’s radiance. I was very interested to see so many young people. Coming from a culture where the youth are predominantly religiously apathetic and spiritually void, it was so hopeful to see the sincerity on the faces of the young people who touched the step of the idol gods and their hearts and mutter an earnest prayer.

After a night of holy beauty, it only seemed natural to be transported the next day to the border of India and Pakistan to witness the ultimate DANCE-OFF. We were guided through a massive crowd of locals and tourists alike, 3 different screens where we surrendered our bodies for inspections for arms and weapons and then ushered on to huge stone seats that had been nicely exposed to the sun for the previous 8 hours. Man, if I thought that initial 51 degree slap in the face was hot…this was the oven the Witch was preparing for Hansel and Gretel. Except we wouldn’t have been tasty treats- I reckon we were the equivalent to saltine crackers smothered in vegemite and then sprinkled with raw sea-salt for that extra kick. The amount of sweat we produced was prolific (After I dried up I actually found stones of crystalised salt in my bra). The wind was stagnant and the masses of bodies probably contributed a few more degrees.

Thankfully, I was distracted by an adorable young Indian girl who shook my hand and started conversing with me in broken English. Unthankfully, the distraction was short-lived for she insisted on questioning me (with the same questions in different phrases) about Australia for the next 20 minutes. By the end of it, as cute and sweet as she was, I was really hoping she’d run out of English. But all that was forgotten once the DANCE OFF began. It’s actually the ‘Closing of the Gates’ ceremony where both India and Pakistan face off and lower their flags and close the gates for the day. But I think ‘DANCE OFF’ sounds way more appealing. First, the soldiers in hats that resembled the comb of a rooster showed off how big their lungs were by billowing into the microphone. Similar to how I was taught to chant ‘ohm’…but much more egotistically.

And then the DANCE OFF. Music blasted from the speakers. The catchiness of the beat tingled through me forcing me to nod my head and pulse my shoulders. Down on the street where everything was happening, ladies and not-quite-ladies of all shapes and sizes went nuts. Shimmying, bouncing, shaking and flailing. I was itching to join them. It looked so bloody fun! One middle-aged lady in a traditional sava khamis thrusted out her chest towards the Pakistan gate and did the whole ‘Whatchu lookin’ at? You want some o’ this, huh??’ thing. If that doesn’t get your mind off the heat…

And then the sweet, cooling rains came. Coincidence? I think not.

HINDUSHAN! ZINDAVAT!