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| View from over Laxman’s right shoulder – close call! |
Day three in Delhi has served up a healthy dose of wandering the streets in an auto-rickshaw under the leadership of my new friend and driver, Laxman (pronounced “Rock-sh-man”). Having navigated the Karol Bagh metro stop a few blocks from my hotel around 7:30 AM, and successfully taken the correct train three stops to Rajiv Chowk, the downtown arena where Connaught Place and the “new” of New Delhi is located, I realized I was about three hours ahead of the rest of the city in terms of its business hours. I found a place serving dosa at 8 AM (and reminded of the amazing South Indian restaurants by the same name in San Francisco!), and I leaned into a warm breakfast and sipped hot, creamy tea. Then Laxman found me.
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| The Sikh temple in Delhi. |
I was grateful for his immediate focus on safety and his nuanced English. He used colloquialisms that reflected a depth of tourist navigation, and/or English language training, which made him an instant conversation companion. He brought me to the Sikh Temple, the epicenter for the Sikh community in Delhi and a beautiful, white-washed marble of this huge mausoleum and community. It was filled with Sikh men and women clad in a rainbow of colors, and the fountains for cleaning your feet lined all entrances to the temple. After eavesdropping on an English-speaking tour guide and a group of Australian tourists, I wandered through the temple, and found a back corner from which to settle and listen to the music. The chanting of three men, who sat cross-legged in the temple’s center and provided their soundtrack at the top of the hour, reminded me of Muslim prayer calls in other countries I have visited. The difference was their live music and drums – they offered a lulling, accessible rhythm that one could listen to for hours. The ritual and devotion of the musicians as well as the parishioners in the room was compelling. While my own religious compass has been muted in my adult life, I deeply admire those who have a commitment and stewardship to their religious communities, as these individuals in the temple that day did.
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| Beautiful tiled ceiling inside the Sikh temple. |
Upon exiting, I noticed a long line of men and women, with someone alongside the line handing out small aluminum bowls. This was a soup line and three men were distributing bread and a hearty stew. The line attendees were haggardly dressed, well dressed, young and old, affluent and poor. Laxman mentioned that the Sikh temple offers food 24 hours a day to anyone who wants to eat. It also doesn’t charge any fee for entrance, a notable difference compared to other religious holy sites in the city. I was struck by the authentic hospitality of this temple, and this religion.
After leaving the Sikh temple, Laxman and I ripped and roared in the rickshaw through the streets of Old and New Delhi, with stops at a tea shop, Laxmi Temple, a place selling silver at wholesale prices (a classic model where drivers bring tourists like me to stores tucked away who insist they have “the best prices” on goods characteristic of their country). I bought three Ganeshas – the Hindu goddess of happiness and the remover of obstacles – made out of ebony and intended for a few family members. We concluded our day-long friendship at Lodi Gardens, where we parted ways with my having paid $20 for four hours of ground-level glances and discovery. Exhale.
