02.28.05
Visits to a Sikh temple aka Gurdwara
For my Indian History class (aka State, Religion, and Gender in Medieval India), we needed to go on a field trip with at least one other classmate. I like to do exotic things, which is partly why I took the class. The most exotic thing on the list (to me) was the Jains, but they seemed a bit hard to contact, and my classmate, Khin, wasn’t interested in that. We both agreed on my second choice, a visit to the San Jose Sikh Gurdwara. I knew I’d picked the right place when we saw a picture in the SJ Mercury News with an article about the architecture. It was gorgeous! The picture in the paper was even prettier than the one on the website, but I can’t find a link to it.
Basic things you need to know to visit a gurdwara. Women should have their legs covered, either by a full length skirt, or preferably pants. Be able to remove your shoes, because shoes are not permitted inside the gurdwara. There is a place to remove and store shoes just inside the entrance, and wash your hands afterwards. Bring something to cover your head, like a scarf or shawl. Men as well as women need to cover their heads. The San Jose Gurdwara had baskets of loaner head coverings, but that may not be true at other gurdwara. Bring your appetite. At every gurdwara is a free eating area. Be respectful, but have fun.
I found it very peaceful and pleasant to visit. Sikhs, like some of the other religions from that regions, respect other monotheistic religions, especially Muslims, Christians, and Jews. While they would prefer that you belong to their religion, they are willing to admit you are on the right path (as opposed to polytheistic religions).
I went both Saturday with Khin, my classmate, and Sunday with Kim, a good acquaintance of mine from KMVT who is a Sikh. Khin had to work during the time Kim was available on Sunday, so I agreed to fill her in on the tour afterwards. I was supposed to be joined on Sunday by one or two other classmates, but they never showed.
On Saturday, I met Khin and her boyfriend at the gurdwara. It was a little smaller than I expected. I wore leggings and a tunic top, that in retrospect I felt was a bit immodest, even though I was covered up. I brought a shawl/scarf, as well as my fuzzy pink magic scarf as a back-up in case Khin forgot (which she did). I gave her the shawl, and wore the magic scarf. I felt a bit silly, and the scarf is rather warm.
I was nervous about committing a faux pas, so I removed my shoes on the threshold of the entrance hall. This turned out to be unnecessary because this building was where you stored your shoes. The three of us removed our shoes and stored them in cubbyholes next to each other. Sunday I found out we had stored them on the men’s side of the shoe storage, so oops. The men’s side is bigger than the women’s side. We washed our hands and started to look around.
We went left toward the prayer hall. Before we could enter, though, we were stopped by an elder, who indicated that Khin’s boyfriend needed to cover his head, too. The elder showed him to the basket of head coverings and helped him adjust it while Khin and I peeked inside the prayer room.
There was a family sitting toward the back of the room. The carpet was thickly padded underneath, and it was a joy to sit on. There was another elder up front reading aloud from a book on a large, low, almost altar-like area, covered with rich looking fabrics. There was a shallow canopy suspended from the ceiling over the area. We sat and listened to him chant for a little while. The family left, and another elder came in and sat in the rear corner to read from a prayer book. Then we got up and left.
We went through the entrance way again. It looked like we had come upon the tail end of a wedding, as there was a young woman in a gorgeous red outfit being attended by several well-dressed women. A vendor was packing up his wares of framed pictures of saints and gurus. We wandered toward the other direction which had the free cafeteria in it.
As we peeked in the cafeteria, it appeared that some of the wedding party was still there. We hung back, but a very nice young woman invited us in and helped us get food. There was a stack of multi-compartmental paper and styrofoam plates. All the food was vegetarian Indian, which I love. There was this great lentil dish that was rich and hearty, and three other dishes besides. There was a rice pilaf and a flat bread. I’m not sure what the bread was. It wasn’t nan, but chewier and denser, sort of like a very dense whole wheat tortilla. There was water, hot chai, and even sweets. Like the prayer hall, there were no chairs. People sat on the floor to eat, and there were long strips of rubber about 18 inches wide to place your plates on. People tried not to step on the rubber strips.
After eating, we decided to explore the upper level of the entrance hall. Again thickly carpeted, the walls had large posters explaining various aspects of Sikhism. The room was a round “doughnut” around the center “hole” of the circular skylight. The stair landing and doors bit out a chunk of the doughnut, so you couldn’t traverse the entire ring. On the far end of the ring was a not-so-old elder reading softly aloud from a book on another elaborate low platform. There was no canopy over this one. An assortment of dollar bills was scattered around in front of him. Considering we had just eaten a free lunch, I threw down a dollar, too. A man sat against the wall near him meditating on the read words. Across the ring, near the entrance was an empty covered altar-like structure.
After that, we considered ourselves “done” and went down to put our shoes back on and left.
Sunday was a whole different experience. I was a little nervous because the website said 3000 people came for Sunday services, so even though there is a lot of parking, I was worried it wouldn’t be enough. I shouldn’t have worried. I wore leggings and a simple dress, which sort of resembled a western half-assed attempt at the beautiful Indian pant and dress ensemble. I brought the black shawl/scarf to wear on my head.
Although I was a little late, Kim arrived after me because of a flat tire. I didn’t tell him about the previous day’s trip with Khin, so I could have a like-new experience. He showed me the men’s side for shoes and the women’s side for shoes. Kim suggested I put my shoes in different cubbies. He said although he hadn’t experienced it here, there was a saying in India, “If you want a new pair of shoes, go to a temple.” Separating your shoes was a way to circumvent losing them.
There was a tiny free clinic in the lobby, with card tables set up and Sikh doctors and nurses doing quick consultations with a line of mostly elderly people. I washed my hands (no working soap again), and joined Kim. He had tied his handkerchief on his head to cover his hair. It was kind of cute. He explained the procedure for the prayer room before we went in.
At the far entrance, we bowed before entering. (I had entered from the side the day before.) The room was packed. An elder was waving a giant “brush” over the holy book at the main “altar” area. Off to the side, two men were playing instruments and either reading aloud or reciting something. Everything was in Punjabi, so I didn’t understand anything besides proper nouns. I walked up to the altar, and made obeisance to the book by touching my forehead to the ground. I then offered a dollar before rising. I went to go sit on the women’s side of the prayer room. Women and men sit on different sides. I kept my eyes low to effect modesty, but kept making surreptious glances around. I got several looks in return. Sitting is cross-legged, but my nervousness kept enough adrenaline pumping through me to not make it too uncomfortable. I sat for several minutes taking in the chanting, and could have stayed longer, but I was supposed to meet Kim outside, and didn’t dare look to the men’s side to see if he was still there or not. I went back toward the front to accept a sweet on crossed palms, and retreated from the room, bowing again before I left.
I had exited before Kim, so I slowly ate my sweet and listened to the chanting from just outside the doors. The sweet wasn’t very sweet, but very oily, and I suspected (correctly) that it contained a lot of ghee (clarified butter). My socks got wet when I stepped on a doormat that had been soaked by the previous night’s rain. I remembered something about a good hand and a dirty hand for eating in Indian culture (also correct), and immediately switched hands for eating the sweet. Kim showed up shortly thereafter, and we walked over to the cafeteria. He was very excited about the food, but mentioned that it was all vegetarian. Unlike the previous day, there was a line.
Kim was very solicitous toward me and suggested I try the spicy pickles, but skipped over the salad entirely. He would give instructions to the servers in Punjabi for the various dishes, and I tried a little of everything. There were some different dishes from yesterday, and no rice, only the flat bread. He picked a spot to sit against the wall, which was good for back support, but the rubber strip was a little too close, so it was somewhat cramped. I slopped my water, and my feet fell asleep while I ate. With the larger number of people today, there were young severs walking around with serving “buckets” to give people additional helpings, or with pitchers of water, or plates of bread. I had a second helping of lentils. I ate all the raita also, because the pickles were so spicy it was unpleasant for me. Some of the flat bread was fresh baked, and it was lovely hot.
Kim carried our plates to the garbage while I struggled to get up and get feeling back in my feet. He also got each of us a glass of chai, and filled another cup with sweets. We talked outside the dining hall, taking in the great view of the city from a railing. We talked of our TV shows, and KMVT, and Sikhism. Apparently there is a model of the proposed building by the front entrance that I missed. The three current buildings were only the beginning of a huge complex of structures. When it’s done, it will be even more magnificent.
Kim took pictures of us before we left.
Yeah, OK, I look funky in the head scarf. Most of the women had these long, beautiful, often sheer things. I definitely would want one for future visits.
