On this day, 150 years ago, there was a mass uprising in India against the British. It began in Uttar Pradesh with the mishandling of a rumour that army bullets were to be greased with cow fat and soon turned into a full on army mutiny culminating in the four month siege of Delhi. It was the beginning of the movement that lead to full independence in 1947, and also the beginning of an intervening 90 years of tightened, tyrannical, and more oppressive British control (the East India Company, a private company which had previously informally run things in India, was dissolved and the British Government proper stepped in to become the formal masters of India). It's a sensitive piece of history and as I was leaving my hotel this morning the manager said to me half-jokingly, 'maybe you should tell people you are Australian today.'
I've survived the morning so far and thought I'd take a break and write down what I've been up to for the last few days. Following on from Manali, I spent last weekend in Dharamshala and McLeod Ganj, which for the last fifty years has been home to the Dalai Lama. I say 'home' - he travels the world so frequently (to raise publicity for Tibet) I wonder he can call anywhere his home. I was unsurprised, but still disappointed, to hear that he was in Chicago on my arrival. I did visit the monastery complex in which he lives though, and I also took a walk down to a lovely waterfall nearby and sat with my feet in a rock pool. McLeod Ganj is a tourist circus and I found being there a rather up and down experience. It was inspirational to visit the residence of such a compassionate, kind and good humoured man, but something seemed not right about wealthy Europeans and Americans wandering to and from their Yoga classes and DVD cafes in the village, dodging and ignoring the street beggars (of whom there are many) and Tibetan refugees as they went. Michael Palin came to Dharamshala and McLeod Ganj to interview the Dalai Lama during his Himalaya series. He also noted the uneasy contrast between the tourists and the unfortunate during his visit: 'passing these wraith-like figures are the substantial, muscular, Western backpackers who home in on these places, looking for cheap accommodation while sporting designer shades that would cost a street mender six months' wages. Poverty is corrosive, but it's always worse when it is found side by side with wealth.' It's the fact that no-one seemed uncomfortable that made me feel uncomfortable if that makes sense.
For the last few days I've been in the Punjab at Amritsar, location of the famous and beautiful Golden Temple. The Golden Temple is the most important Sikh Gurdwara in existence and a work of exquisite beauty. The Hari Mandir (God's Temple) sits in the middle of a huge tank of water ('nectar') filled with languishing fish. It has four entrances, one on each side - indicating that all are welcome and encouraged to visit. A Sikh teenager toured me round the complex and also took me to the large communal kitchens where free meals are churned out for hundreds of people twenty four hours a day. I saw - and touched! - the famous chapati making machine and conveyor belt and then was taken to eat with the Sikh worshippers. It was a terrific experience. You must cover your head whilst inside the complex and I wore a rather unflattering bright orange bandana throughout making me look like a pirate at a rave.
Today, I'm still in Amritsar, and I've just been to the Hindu Mata Temple, which is a strange combination of religious building and adventure playground. To process around the Gods you have to go up and down corridors, crawl through small tunnels, across a little stream, and through mirrored rooms. Crazy Indians.
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