Crossing boundaries
Preserving heritage, indeed!
On the land where stood the great deras now walk corrupt men. If religion itself is under assault, how can a heritage be preserved, asks
Anees Jung.
The Harmandar Sahib embodies the religious and socio-cultural core of Amritsar
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I
went to Amritsar with visions of experiencing a heritage that I
associated with the Golden Temple, and the Gurbani chanted from
dawn to dusk and through the night under the stars ringing serenity. To
see stalwart men bowed deeply under rainbow-coloured turbans, and the
women as sturdy in looks evoking a sense of gentle order, epitomised in
my mind the spirit of what I call a heritage. But alas this heritage was
only imprisoned within the parameters of the Darbar Sahib.
Outside, right within the hem of the sanctum sanctorum, another
heritage loomed. In the main streets where large banners announced the
Amritsar Heritage Festival, I confronted a city that left me appalled.
Hoardings of semi-nude women were festooned on every other electric pole
in the city. While the impressive structure of the Khalsa College, the
venue of the festival, glittered with lights, graffitti, of the most
vulgar sort adorned walls nearby. Piles of garbage lay around the chowks, pigs scrounged and men stood pissing in front of crumbling heritage
walls. The organisers of the festival were not concerned with this face
of a heritage. Nor were those who claim it. Under a wide white tent
lined with red velvet sofas and less padded chairs, sat a motley crowd
chattering, moving, sitting and half listening to musicians as great as
Vilayat Khan. When he walked up to the stage, dressed in formal gear,
the way he would have in the durbar of a maharaja, the chattering
crowd stood up. The welcome did not last long. Sensing the animated
restlessness, Vilayat Khan cut short his performance. While he played
Raag Yaman, which he explained meant Amen (long live), an ironic
evocation, the wife of a senior bureaucrat sat munching at her dinner
brought reverentially by two minor officials who were in attendance. Two
more, liveried in police uniform, carried a sofa as their boss arrived
and there was no seat on the red sofa for him. The sofa moved with the
boss till an appropriate place was found in the front row. He was in no
way less than an erstwhile maharaja, more nattier perhaps.
Back in the resort
hotel, the lobby sizzled like a shopping mall. Women dressed in
gaudiness dazzled each other. Men as radiant as peacocks jostled in the
coffee shop to pile their plates with cheese pakoras, aloo paranthas,
dahi, sambar and an array of food items that cancelled each other's
flavours.
Were these the same
people who I had seen lined up in ordered columns to press their heads
before the Guru Granth Sahib? If you want to sense Amritsar's
heritage, take a rickshaw and go around the temple. In the maze of tight
lanes, lined with ancient shops, lives the culture of Amritsar I was
told. It was easier to walk than sit in a rickshaw that was slower than
my feet in the medieval lanes. But I was less tired in this jam than I
was in the wide but noisy streets of the city. Instead of horns blaring,
one only heard human voices shrieking at each other. The kar sevak of
Darbar Sahib, who was my proud escort knew each bazaar—bazaars
for fine rice and hand-rolled papad, gold gotas for dupattas,
shawls and silk suits, silver and gold ornaments, fancy red velvet tray
covers, decorations for marriages. To see these streets packed with the
business of living circling the Golden Temple left me baffled. How can
the same people reflect such opposites in the way they live and feel?
How real is religion outside its centre? I remembered what a chief granthi,
in another revered gurdwara, had told me. Exuding a conventional
dignity, spotless in his white garb, a blue turban crowning his head he
had seemed helpless. "Regard for religion no longer exists,"
he had said. "The time we are living in is Kalyug. Truth is
not around. There are no more teachers or gurus to guide us. Religious
groups are now mixed with politics. On the land where stood the great deras
now walk corrupt men."
If religion itself is
under assault how can a heritage be preserved?
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