HIMACHAL - DAY THIRTEEN : CHANDIGARH – BEGINNING AND END

       The air conditioning at the room in the Sainik Guesthouse, though not particularly effective, still proved to be a huge relief from the sweltering heat of Punjab. I slept late into the morning, lying in bed even after I had woken up. Finally, when the clock struck 10 a.m, I decided to get a move on, and climbed out of bed. Packing my bag proved to be a ten minute affair and I went downstairs to check out.

            The smell of fresh aloo parathas stopped me in my tracks and I sat down at the dining table. Steaming aloo parathas with fresh curd was served and I gorged my way through two of them. With a satisfied tummy and contented expression on my face, I stepped out into the hot sun. Waiting outside the guesthouse gate for a while, I hopped onto the first cycle rickshaw that came along and asked the elderly rickshaw-wala to take me to the Golden Temple. This proved to be a mistake, as I realized the moment we had started out.

             Firstly, I had chosen a very old man’s rickshaw and felt sorry for him the whole way. There were even a couple of moments during the journey when I felt like asking him to sit at the back and take on the pedaling myself. 

On the Way to the Golden Temple

        The second blunder was choosing this particular rickshaw because it did not have a roof – I only realized that most of the other rickshaws around us were covered once we had already set out. Anyway, since it was my own choice and doing, I decided to enjoy the experience and watched the people of midday Amritsar go about their work in the burning sun. Every time we reached a climb, I had to get off and the driver pushed the rickshaw up the slope.

          I had heard from the cook during breakfast that morning that there was likely to be some religious unrest at the Golden Temple and he had advised me not to go. However, being in Amritsar for only one day, I decided to risk it and go anyway. 

The Murderous Beginning

        As we neared the temple, I looked out for anything out of the ordinary. Except for a heightened police presence and several Khalsas carrying swords, the streets seemed peaceful enough. Tourists, both foreign and Indian walked about, many of the latter with cranky children in tow, headed either for the Golden Temple or for the nearby Jallianwala Bagh, infamous for the massacre of hundreds of innocent civilians during our struggle for independence.

The Tragic End - Martyr's Well

    I started with the Jallianwala Bagh. Monuments had been erected or preserved at various places around the garden. At one end was the point from which General Dyer ordered his troops to open fire on the unsuspecting crowd. At the opposite end lay the well into which one hundred and twenty men jumped to avoid getting shot, only to meet watery graves instead. 

Amar Jyoti - Eternal Flame

              Above the Well of Death, dozens of bullet holes were embedded in the walls and a large monument had been erected at the point that the crowd was gathered that fateful day. Finally, under a small roof, burnt the Amar Jyoti or Eternal Flame in memory of those who lost their lives. A small museum had been set up with photographs and brief write up about many of the martyrs.

Glittering in the Sun - Golden Temple

           From the Jallianwala Bagh, I made my way to the Golden Temple that was close by. The actual Golden Temple was enshrined within a colossal white temple. Not wanting to leave my shoes outside unattended, I decided not to go in. By now, the heat had begun to take its toll. I bought a bottle of water, hopped onto a cycle rickshaw and asked to be taken to the bus station. This rickshaw-wala was a young guy and the guilt factor did not arise this time.

          At the bus station, amidst dozens of rickshaw-walas and taxi drivers clamouring for my attention, I made my way to the Chandigarh bus bay where a luxury AC bus awaited. I loaded my bag into the hold and boarded the bus. The moment I entered, I was glad I had decided to take the AC bus. The news that morning had announced the hottest day of the year so far in Delhi and adjoining regions. My watch showed the temperature to be 39 degrees Celsius in the shade.

         The five hour bus journey turned out to be a comfortable one. With a half hour stop at Jalandhar, we arrived at Chandigarh at 6 p.m. From the bus stand, I took a local bus to Sector 21D where the Sainik Guesthouse was located. A little bit of asking around brought me to the guesthouse. The rooms were all occupied and I decided to stay in one of the dormitories. Leaving my rucksack in the dorm, I decided to go for a walk.

               A quick burger at Mc Donalds was followed by a little window shopping and finally a tasty dinner at a popular dhaba cum restaurant nearby. With a full stomach, I made my way back to the guesthouse, had a refreshing bath, wrote for a while and then retired to bed. Not as lucky as the previous night, all I had here was the fan for company, blowing hot air down onto the long line of beds. However, sheer exhaustion ignored this little fact and I drifted off into a deep slumber.

THE END