Good Friday 30th March

Another breath taking ride via tuk tuk took us to town for one last visit to the Golden Temple to see the kitchens. Each day over 100,000 visitors are fed, and without charge. It is a phenomenal operation. We tried queuing so as to catch a glimpse of what happens. If you don’t like crowds, intense heat or a lot of noise, look away now, but that is what you experience standing in line for the Langar (food) Hall. Hundreds of people of all ages, shapes and sizes press themselves upon you and towards the door in the hope of getting in. And get in they do: admitted in controlled waves by those on duty.

We abandoned our queue and crept out round the side. By sheer good fortune we got a glimpse of the Langar Hall through a window. Hundreds were hunched gladly over their meal.

Continuing on we chanced upon the serving area. Vast cauldrons of Dahl were being carefully stirred by turbaned sous chefs in the most sweltering conditions. As we stood on the threshold we were repeatedly invited to enter the hall for some food. There was no shooing away or ‘stop looking at us’ conveyed whatsoever.

Thereafter we navigated through to the washing up area. The noise levels were intense to say the least, resembling a Victorian metal bashing plant. Vast sinks stretching for metres at a time were the scene of a clattery production line: receivers of dirty platters, spoon collectors, washers up, dryers up and so forth. Each had their allotted role.

In completion the of the circle, we then came upon where it all began: with the food preparation. From grannies to toddlers, whole families of people sat round piles of food, peeling chopping or sorting it. One infant I espied was enjoying squeezing everything through his fingers. This was an all inclusive experience!

We marvelled at how it was all funded, organised, and set up. How is it that in UK we can barely feed 100 charitably without a struggle?

On exiting the food area we returned to the side of the lake. Being a public holiday there were hundreds wanting to bathe. They did so modestly, but with great devotion and enthusiasm.

Ride back

As usual, we collected a tuk tuk back to Ranjit’s Svaasa. Each journey we take proves more incredible than the last. Only Stoketours could have chosen to visit national monuments on a public holiday weekend. Streets were thronged and dense with holiday makers. Progress was arduous, and the driving jaw droppingly random (apparently). There are no rules of the road observably observed so even joining a more major carriage way is done without so much as a sideways glance. “Your life in their hands” sums it up! In the alley ways people drive straight at each other, filling every available space so that no one can move. Much very loud tooting ensues, until someone, somewhere, gives an infinitesimal inch and slowly slowly the blockage is relieved. The extraordinary thing is that Chaos Theory really seems to work. Ultimately  all tangles are unravelled, and every vehicle, person or animal, finds a space and makes its progress.

The Border Ceremony

After lunch we headed west on The Grand Trunk Road, to the Wagah/Atarri Border of India with Pakistan. This was to see the traditional lowering of the flags of each nation. It was our first experience of being on a bigger road but the driving was similar – each man for himself and honk the horn till the car in front moves over! I blinked as I caught sight of a cow shambling down the central reservation. Cows pop up all over the place, including in the middle of roundabouts.

Once parked it was a hot and very dusty kilometre’s walk to the stadium where the ceremony was going to be held. The sun blazed fiercely. You could feel it frying your skin. Thousands of people were advancing, forming snake like shambly queues. It was one of the few times waving our British passports was any help as they waved us through many of the gates avoiding the queues. The stadium was vast.

We found two seats on the roasting concrete and sat down. The heat was so intense it was like being on a grill. We just dripped. At last the razzmatazz began. Music blared from enormous speakers. A compere stoked up the crowd (about 30,000) to roaring point. Then some military personnel appeared in brilliant uniforms to deafening cheers and performed a ritual of high kicks and special steps, walking forward on their heels.

The Pakistani side did likewise. On their side a green uniformed officer pirouetted on his one leg. It was all carefully choreographed for maximum effect. The crowd was now at fever pitch. There was a fanfare, and finally, the two flags were lowered amidst tumultuous shouting and arm waving. After this hordes more people were admitted to the stadium to take photos of the lowered flags before the proceedings drew to a an abrupt close. There was then the no small task of finding our way down and out through the pressing throng. Somehow or rather this was achieved this by adopting local push tactics. We are learning fast! After another long walk back, it was a great relief to find our driver and get in the car, dust coated from top to toe, and head back. A beer and shower later life felt good again!