Wolf In a Lion's Den

This is My Church

In November 06 I visited Punjab and headed straight for Amritsar. I travelled on the train from Delhi and knew I had entered Punjab when I looked out of the window to find myself surrounded by green fields and cows. As I excitedly reminded myself that I was in India, on a train, going to the Golden Temple my thoughts were interrupted by local people making their morning visits to the fields to ‘go to the loo’. Modest they are not!

“I’d waited years for the opportunity to visit THE holiest place for Sikhs, to eat THE Langar (food in a communal kitchen) and to listen to THE Gurbani (poems) from THE Guru Granth Sahib (Holy Scriptures). When I arrived my immediate thought was……”I’m at Molineux!”

As I approached the centre of Amritsar the crowds got dense. I was soon surrounded by mainly men and being swept along in the general direction of the Golden Temple – at least I didn’t need to ask for directions! The atmosphere was electric. Everyone was excited, anticipating the wondrous spectacle of the Golden Temple and the day’s events. When I arrived I decided to stay the night at the temple in one of the many rooms available to the public and dumped my bags. With shoes removed and heads covered

I walked towards the entrance to the temple complex. The gold shone in the sun and looked awesome. Men regressed to boys as their excitement got the better of them and people tried to sell me useless crap outside. “Yep, I’m at Molineux!”

Just as at every home game, everyone was there for a common purpose. People from all over the world had come together to visit this auspicious place. Chants of “only one Mick McCarthy” had been replaced with mantras of “only one God”.

The half time communal kitchen of Bovril and Balti pies was now Dhal and Chapattis – and the best I’ve ever tasted.

Women had covered their heads with scarves, not to shield their ears from the wind or preserve their new hair-do as at Wolves, but in respect for the Guru Granth Sahib Ji inside the temple. Men also had their ‘uniform’ of head wear, but in Amritsar it was a Turban or bandana, and not a beanie or baseball cap; and just as a Wolves fan can be spotted by the metal badge on their jacket, Sikhs can be spotted by the metal bangle on their wrist.

As the days proceedings came to an end everyone scrambled to get close to the Guru Granth Sahib Ji being taken to its resting place for the night, in a building opposite the Golden Temple. Men pushed and shoved each other to get to the sedan chair (Palki) that was carrying the Holy Scriptures so that they could experience its weight on their shoulders until the next man pushed him away. Again, I was reminded of the struggle to get out of the turnstiles and onto Waterloo Road and back to the car. It was now darkness, but out of it cometh light and the greatness of the golden building still shone.

For the atmosphere, auspiciousness, bostin’ food, great people and stunning architecture the Golden Temple and Molineux are my favourite places in the world.

by Louise Griffiths