Amrit Sarovar - the pool of nectar

Amritsar. The Golden temple.

In the northern Indian state of Punjab, another of my favourites, a very welcome respite from stepping off the plane from Tamil Nadu's tranquil, palm lined country roads into the New Delhi chaos that still persists at 3 a.m. in the morning. I had stayed at this really freaky place and made up my mind that night, making sure all the doors and windows were locked and tight, to get my tickets from the New Delhi railway station the next day and make an early exit. The buying tickets bit was easy enough - thanks to the International Tourist Bureau , a "nice and spacious office" on the second floor - and after minutes of filling in forms for the trains i wanted and playing couch shuffle waiting for my turn at the counters, i managed to end up with all the tickets i'd ever need for this India trip - in total around 55 dollars of tickets. This is by far the bit of Indian bureaucracy i'm most impressed with, other than the State Bank of India experience in Chennai of course, which made me feel so like a native Chennaiker - yea and i do support the Super Kings in the IPL. One surefire way to make friends (and influence people) in India - talk about cricket and how fantastic Tendulkar is etc...

New Delhi! the old town around Jama Masjid

I went (escaped) up north to Amritsar on the evening Shatabdi, squashed between a rotund Sikh and a prosperous-looking Indian businessman, on second class A/C so i shan't complain too much. The service was awesome anyway - being served tea the moment we got in and all the way to supper when we were almost in Amritsar. The train, however, was delayed due to some "technical fault" - basically euphemism for we don't know whats going on, so we had tea in the train while it still was in the station - kinda weird, actually. But other than that, a pretty uneventful ride into Amritsar, where in stark contrast - that is so typical of Indian travel - i shared a crazed, chai-fuelled autorickshaw ride into the old town around the golden temple with an Irish couple on honeymoon, our bags almost bouncing off the rear as he took off towards the destination, cutting through side streets and screaming down alleys barely wider than his rickshaw.

The Golden Temple, Sikkhism's holiest shrine, was beautiful. One of my fondest memories was everyone getting to their feet, standing around the Golden Temple, in the fast fading evening light as prayers are recited in the Golden temple, electronic speakers carrying it through the entire courtyard. And the scent of imminent rain in the breeze, raking ripples across the now dark surface of the pool of holy water, the Amrit Sarovar, surrounding the Golden temple, light drops of rain touching our faces.