This post is a recap of the past few days.
On Monday, April 9, I went to the Varanasi train station with intention of getting a ticket to Phugwara in the Punjab to meet Miss Seema at her home there. Nandan took me to the train station. The rickshaw man pulled into the outgoing traffic drive of the station and a policeman beat him hard with a big stick. The man took it meekly and the policeman hit him more, about six times total. I was happy to get onto the train (Rs 953 first class three tier AC) with the tiffin that Miss Bunti made for me.
On Tuesday, April 10, after about twenty hours, I arrived in Phugwara in the morning. I called Miss Seema and she and her family (mother, father, uncle) received me at the trainstation by means of their chauffeur. Phugwara, and now I know Amritsar also, is totally overgrown with cannibis. I do not know how to say this except that there is sticky, smelly marijuana growing wild absolutely everywhere that is not cultivated. When we arrived at their place they showed me that their home is first in an alley of Salans.
Seema told me of a current dispute between her father and uncle on one side and some nephew on the other. The nephew has some claim to land. Seema eventually showed me paperwork from both sides, and it is not overly interesting, so let me just say that some land was purchased twenty-five years ago and now the nephew is disputing the sale without documentation.
We all went to a place near a gurdwara to meet the family guru. They told me that this guru is part of a line who has tended to their family for more than three-hundred years. Their family and others had kept the shoes and ashes of every guru along with some pictures in a building constructed for assembly as well as storage of guru relics. We sat with the guru and they all had a conversation which I could not follow, but I understand that it was for blessing and for advice about the family dispute.
I volunteered to go shopping with Seema and some female relations. I did not anticipate what shopping was to them. We sat stationary on a bench in a store and young men threw women’s clothing in front of us. That was weird and boring, but I am glad that I now understand what they do here.
I told their uncle that I had tried to read about Sikhism before arriving and he told me that they were not Sikhs, they were Punjabi Hindus. I asked Seema if she was Sikh and repeated she said yes; I never confronted her about the difference of opinion.
I had fish for dinner. That was the first time I had eaten animal since England.
On Wednesday the 12 I woke up early with a cough which I have had for about a week now. At sunrise or before a gurdwara near home broadcasts singing of the Guru Granth Sahib, their holy book.
We visited two other gurdwaras some hours away. The first had a huge entryway – maybe five stories high – and seemed like a major assembly site. The architecture was white from the front but when we drove to the side I saw wild colors. The second place had a courtyard statuary which told stories of Aurangzeb’s forces slaughtering Sikhs as a means of religious conversion to Islam.
We had lunch at an outdoor restaurant. I saw a tandoor oven there and had the best paratha. I noticed there and began to notice elsewhere that Coca Cola has completely covered the area in advertising.
We met Seema’s mother’s family. Seema told me that they would be poor, but they seemed to be successful agriculturalists so far as that goes. They were a happy lot, though Seema’s grandmother is into her senility I think. They gave Seema’s father a bag of some seeds.
Her father, uncle, and I and others went to a nearby goldsmith where her father spent about $8 US (in Rs) to have the smith melt a bit of silver on two tiny gold beads. I did not get info about what was happening at that time. Her uncle and I went to a fruit stand where he purchased some apples and a coconut, so I was expecting an offering approaching.
We drove over one of Punjab’s five rivers and her father had the car stopped (on the middle of the bridge) and wrapped blue cloth around the metals, the fruits, and the seeds. He threw them into the river on the advice of the guru. This was to aid the family dispute.
We went to see Seema’s paternal family. I met an uncle who works in Dubai and he told me that he has been a Jehovah’s witness for ten years. He took me to a study group on telling me that he would show me a Christian church. I told them I was Roman Catholic and they went into their “144k beside th lamb, everyone else in front” and “heaven vs. earth” spiels. I was surprised as their indoctrination; it was just as an American’s.
We had chicken that night. It was killer but in heavy sauce that did not sit well in me.
On Thursday morning the nephew called a meeting with the panchayat and the father and uncle attended. I am told that things went in their favor. As I said, the evidence that Seema gave to me leads me to think that the nephew simply wants to take advantage of her family’s distance from the land and “wealth” (they are not rich) that they presumably have due to their being British.
I should also say that this nephew insists on coming to their home every morning without speaking to anyone to do puja at their family shrine. It is his shrine also, but I am told that he never did such puja before.
The family had a huge amount of sweet rice made. I cannot estimate the amount except to say that it would fill ten buckets. I had a bit and it was good.
We had the rice blessed at a nearby mosque. Apparently the family does not make a distinction between type of religious center. The mosque – the first I have ever visited – was painted in garish colors with green as a theme and had those bangra drums outside and some other strange instruments inside. It was loud. We visited some dead bodies under wraps and at the end went to meet the Sai, some heriditary religious leader. He was seated in front of a crowd on a pillow. He was wearing a lot of bling, smoking, and giving everyone dirty looks. A lady asked for a blessing and he told his assistant to keep her moving.
Pictures of previous Sais were posted behind him. Only a few pictures must have existed, and from those more pictures were made by photoshopping the Sais into all kinds of exotic locations. There was also a large picture of a naked man lounging on a couch. Were it not for his morbid obesity his penis would have been exposed; I asked Seema about that and she did not have an explanation.
After getting the rice blessed we deposited it at an open kitchen.
I had been a bit ill the whole time and after lunch that day I used a tissue to clear my nose after pulling away from the table. I was still close to the eating area, though, and Seema’s mother made a nose like she was injured and gave me a stern look. I apologized and went to the toilet to wash my face. I admit that I committed a faux pas but I thought it funny that she could be so sensitive to my hanky use when she was surrounded by such living conditions as are here.
I had sugar cane. Seema’s uncle told me that he grew up with four varieties having distinct tastes, but now only one is available.
Relatives visited and they said that they had a buffalo dairy farm. I asked why they had buffalo rather than cows and the answers were that buffalo milk has less cream, the milk itself is worth more, and that people prefer the thickness (presumably due to protein not cream?)
That night we went to dinner and it was great.
On Friday morning, today, I tried to catch a train to Amritsar. There was some holdup so I took the bus instead, which was pleasant and comfortable for me. The bus was not so packed as some I have seen.
And here I am. I am chilling in a cyber cafe in Amritsar and about to go search for a place to sleep. Tomorrow is a holiday, Vaisakhi, related to the founding of the Khalsa. I have yet to visit the Golden Temple but I intend to do so tonight.