Travel, 19 July

Not the best morning for me. Many of us had partied hard the night before, drinking games and charades. My stomach and head were suffering but all seemed to be well for the journey ahead. In the end, Indian driving (weaving, horns, and sudden breaking) and traffic fumes facilitated our driver making a sudden stop so that I could jump out and projectile vomit my breakfast on the ground – much to the delight of several large black ants who hurriedly collected bits of muffin and curd.

We first visited Punjab Agricultural University, located just outside of Ludhiana. A museum has been set up that features information about and articles used in Punjabi villages. There are examples of farming equipment, a Persian well, musical instruments, clothing, vehicles, and homes. We also looked over the private collection of books and manuscripts of M.S. Randhava, an important figure in the preservation and presentation of Punjabi and Sikh art. In fact, it was under his tutelage that the village museum was begun and maintained.





Our next stop, and my favorite community to visit, was with the Namdharis at Bhaini Sahib. On the way there, the monsoon arrived and dumped much rain on us with gale force winds. It was a spectacular drive and I recorded some of it on video.


The Namdharis are a sectarian group within Sikhism who recognize a living guru. They are best known for wearing white homespun cotton (khadi), strict vegetarianism, patronage of traditional musical forms, and beliefs & practices that deviate from mainstream Sikhism and lean toward Hindu practices.



During colonial rule, the Namdharis, then known as Kukas for their cries of devotional ecstasy, were against the modern practices introduced by the British. In reaction to the British law courts, the Namdharis instituted village panchyats (village councils). They also created their own telegraph & postal systems, patronage for indigenous forms of learning, and began the movement for swadeshi (Indian made goods). Gandhi took up the practice of wearing homespun cotton, though little credit has been afforded to the Namdharis. In addition, the clothes I have made in India are of this type of cotton.

Evening walk

19 July

After dinner tonight Punnu, a participant in the program, and I went for a walk. Wandering through Sector-22, we saw the [Saturday] nightlife of Chandigarh. Shops remaining open were quite busy with many, and more than usual, middle-age men crowded at the edge of the parking lots. Young men were apart from them, crouching on scooters and standing in pairs talking on their mobile phones.

Punnu and I concluded that if we were to walk in a square, as Chandigarh is divided into grids, we would eventually make it back to where we started. That sort of worked out until we followed a curved road. We discovered and paid a short visit to a gurdwara, recharging our spirit for a jaunt through darkened streets and past people hurrying home to their families. As we walked the landscape changed from a partial shopping district into residential housing units and later, apartment buildings. At one point, we were walking down a narrow street and heard a motorbike approaching from the rear. Despite moving to the side of the road, there was the squeal of a brake and the bike gently rear-ended Punnu – pushing him forward but not injuring him. The rider muttered, “I’m sorry” and then struggled to straighten his bike and rode off. From his original trajectory, I assumed he was pulling into a driveway but I guess his judgment was a bit off in thinking that a pedestrian would not assume the side of the road.

Eventually we found our way back to the business side of Sector-22, having gone in an adjacent circle to our original square. It was there that we discovered the earlier crowds had disappeared and the shops closed.

In place of sardars (Sikh men with turbans & beards) and other Punjabi shoppers, the Bihari migrants were out in numbers. Biharis are distinct from [ethnic] Punjabis by their facial features, build, and skin color. Men were washing clothes via the bucket method, pounding the soap and dirt out on the marble tiles lining the shopping arcade. Other men were crouched at propane stoves, with oversized pots of water coming to a boil. Women were gathered, with sleeping children, in small groups in parking spaces.

This is the side of Chandigarh, of the nightlife, that people miss or turn a blind eye to. Could any of these migrants foresee coming to the city, living on asphalt, arriving after the populace had left, only to clear out before being seen in the dawn. The Biharis and other migrants operate below the service class, much like day laborers in America. They live a life of toiling service to meet the needs of their basic subsistence, unable to purchase goods from the high-end stores they peddle in front of, rent the homes they clean, or eat alongside the people they transport in their rickshaws. On a number of occasions I have seen, and been told by, turbaned Punjabi men not to associate with them. Yet, Chandigarh would not function as the City Beautiful without the men I see at sunup sweeping the streets and collecting leaves from the gutters. Nor would the city businesses function efficiently without someone there to open the door for customers, sweep the floors free of debris, sow garments, or deliver goods.

A night of dancing

16 July

A number of us went out dancing last night. Many of the participants on the program have family and friends in India. We met up with a young man who lives in Chandigarh. He picked us up and took us to a lounge, Oriental Lounge, and then a club, Voodoo. Both are located in Sector 26, nearly next to each other. Regardless, we were hurried back into the car after the lounge; only to be driven 100 feet to another parking space in front of the club.

Entering before 10:30pm and as a couple, admission is free. Not to worry, they charge ridiculous prices for alcoholic drinks. For instance, two shots of Johnnie Walker Red Label whisky is Rs.550 ($12.75). However, a bottle of water is the common price of Rs.50 ($1).

Last year, Chandigarh passed a citywide ban on smoking. It has cleaned up the air in public places, restaurants, and clubs. In past years, I was disgusted visiting clubs. The air was thick with smoke, people blowing smoke in my face. Traditionally, it was polite to ask everyone around you if lighting a cigarette was ok. For example, Sikhs are not permitted to take tobacco nor are they to associate with persons who do so. Smoking in front of a Sikh, without getting permission, may have resulted in many loud words and a beating. Now, clubs have a smoking room with a fan separating the rooms that prevents smoke from traveling between rooms. Regardless, people coming out of the room reek of smoke and look deprived of oxygen. By the end of the night, my lungs hurt and my clothes smelled of cigarettes. Yuck!

The elite youth of the city, in their best Western clothes and sans traditional clothing – turbans, kurtas, and salwar kamizes – rock the night away in a trance-induced haze. House and techno reign, bhangra (Punjabi music) is only played after 1:30am. The reason behind this is that because it is so popular, no one leaves the dance floor to buy drinks.

He who shall remain nameless

13 July

At Fategarh Sahib, two women in our group were pick-pocketed. After a brief search of the crowded gurdwara (Sikh temple) we just come out of - good for the mind, useless in practice – we went to the office of the manager. Video cameras were in place all over the complex and within the gurdwara. With some difficulty we managed to rewind and review the security tapes but without any success. Apologetic, the manager offered us a private air-conditioned room to rest and then invited us into a meeting hall for the SGPC (Sikh gurdwara governing body) and presented us with langar (free meal).

After eating, He who shall remain nameless used the restroom attached to the SGPC hall and was overcome with the Chandigarh chits. Without toilet paper and only a bucket of water, He was desperate. Chit was everywhere and He was in a foreign land. Then He spotted it, the terry cloth towel for wiping one’s hand and face at the sink. Yes, He who shall remain nameless used the SGPC hand towel to cleanse himself of chit.

Travel, 13 July

Another turban for me today but this one worked out better and we made it to breakfast too. Yesterday’s turban was hampered by a bit of starch remaining in the fabric. A turban holds its shape as each layer of cloth is wound around the layer before it. Starch, however, prevents this bond from being maintained and a sprinkle of water must be applied to the cloth as it is wound. Thus, when the fabric dries it has the tendency to slip.

We began the day’s travels with a visit to a Jaina mandir (temple).



Next, we traveled to Sirhind, a medieval Punjabi town with a large Muslim population. Our specific destination was Rouza Sharif. Ahmed Sirhindi, a Chisti saint, founded this mosque. It is a very popular pilgrimage site for Muslims with strong ties to Afghanistan and its rulers. In fact, all but the last Afghan king have been entombed at Rouza Sharif.


Our travels continued and we arrived at Fatehgarh Sahib. It was in the now basement of this gurdwara that the Mughal governor brought the two young sons of the tenth Sikh guru, bricked them up alive and then beheaded them for not converting to Islam. Upon hearing of this punishment, their grandmother collapsed and died.

We next traveled to an archaeological museum in Ropar where Harappan and Buddhist remains from the surrounding area have been put on display. Similarly, we visited the foundation of a Buddhist stupa (monument, for relics) in Sanghol.


Although the foundations for several stupas and other buildings were placed, the Buddhist community in the area dispersed before the buildings could be completed. Mounds of other remains remain visible in the landscape but little archaeological work has been done to identify them. The Archaeological Society of India has an odd practice, at least in the West, of excavating sites, bagging the artifacts, but not writing up a report before moving on to the next site. Thus, bags of artifacts remain in museum collections that may never again see the light of day let alone receive a detailed analysis.

Travel, 12 July

We had an excellent first day of travel in the region. Determined to wear a turban today, we began tying one at 6:45am and ended just after 8. We had to retie and redo the lars (wraps) several times. In the end, both our turbans had been retied as so-so products of human achievement and we missed breakfast. In addition, I was supposed to learn how to use the video camera before we left on the travels but our tardiness forced a crash course on videography at the first stop. I got the hang of it quick, just point, and shoot.

The day’s lineup included a Christian chapel and school in Kharar, where Sikhism scholar W.H. McLeod used to worship and teach.

Next up was Henderson secondary school, offering a glimpse of how classrooms and science labs are set-up.



We then began the trek to Naina Devi. Situated in the Shivalik Hills atop a peak overlooking Anandpur and the Punjab plains, the Goddess temple is a pilgrimage spot for Hindus, Sikhs, and others. It was uncharacteristically cool – in the 70s – with thick clouds obscuring our views of the valley and eventually a thick monsoon downpour. As we started to leave, a landslide blocked the road and we were forced to wait as a backhoe cleared the debris.





Making our way back down to the plains, we visited Anandpur. Established by the tenth Sikh guru, Anandpur features several gurdwaras and forts associated with the guru. We visited Kesgarh Sahib, the location where Guru Gobind Singh declared that all his Sikhs were the Khalsa and began the institution of khande di pahul (baptism of the double-edged sword).


The highlight of our visit was a meeting with the Jathedar of Anandpur Sahib. Siri Singh Sahib Trilochan Singh is one of five elected figures in charge of religio-political issues in the Punjab-Sikh community. He was very gracious, offering us tea and answering our questions. In addition, he gave a high honor by awarding all of us saropas (ceremonial saffron cloth) and Pashmini shawls.


Before leaving Anandpur, we visited Anandgarh Sahib – a model fort rebuilt on the site of historic fort. Although most of the original fort was destroyed or fell to ruin, a baoli (large well with steps) remained. Walking down into it is an amazing experience as the temperature changes and the musty smell of old water.


My last valiant for videography that day was atop a lookout with a panoramic view of the area. There were several Sikh youth crouching there as well gave me the courtesy of ducking as I filmed in a circle. After I had finished filming, I commented bahut khubsurat (very beautiful) and was met with approving sounds. As I climbed down, I was told ‘thank you’ and ‘see you soon’.

Putting the 'Pun' in Punjab

Let me clear up any confusion about how to pronounce ‘Punjab’.

We’ll begin with how to transliterate Indo-European languages. Consonants represent the actual sound produced in the mother language. For example, ‘ch’ in the English ‘chair’ is the same as in the Punjabi ‘cha’ (tea) or Hindi ‘chai’ (tea). Vowels, however, can be tricky. The indigenous scripts used in Indo-European languages use vowel markers for 9 of 10 sounds. The missing vowel marker is the one that throws everyone off. Thus, we are here learning how to properly pronounce ‘Punjab’. The vowels, in transliteration, are represented as: ‘a’ [but], ‘aa’ [balm], ‘i’ [bit], ‘ee’, [beet], ‘u’ [bull], ‘oo’ [boot], ‘ay’ [bake], ‘ai’ [back], ‘o’ [bore], ‘au’ [bough; The Golden Bough]. The last sound, ‘au’, is the trickiest because its counterpart just doesn’t exist in English.

With the basics of transliteration laid out above, we can move on to the pronunciation of ‘Punjab’. Don’t worry; when the British first came to Punjab, they were convinced that the local people couldn’t properly speak the language either.

Transliterated from the Gurmukhi script of the Punjabi language, ‘Punjab’ becomes PANJAAB. It is not POONJAAB, nor is it PANJAB. In early British texts, it was spelled PANJAUB.