Magic of India prevails

RK Saboo

My granddaughter Shivani (23) came to India after almost five years. Born and living in the US, she was inquisitive about the culture, history and the changing scenario of India, the country of origin of her parents.

My son and daughter-in-law shifted to the US in the late 1980s. They frequently visited India but the pandemic had restricted their trips. However, Shivani could not come earlier as she was in college, then in a new job, followed by the pandemic. Now with the Covid situation improving, they came to Chandigarh in December.

We went to Amritsar the next day. Shivani and her father, both photography enthusiasts, went to the Golden Temple, taking photographs of the rising sun and the temple. We joined them later. It was a memorable experience for her to be in the sanctum sanctorum. While walking around the sarovar, we visited the ‘Guru ka langar’ hall. She was amazed to see the volunteers preparing meals in huge utensils, serving hundreds of people at a time, collecting and cleaning the used thalis and glasses, keeping them ready for the next round.

People were sitting together on the floor and eating wholesome vegetarian food, regardless of religion, caste, gender or ethnicity. She had never seen such voluntarism – kar seva. It made an indelible impression on her young mind.

From the Golden Temple, we walked over to the Jallianwala Bagh, where she took her time to see how history was created when a peaceful crowd was made the target of shooting by the British-led soldiers, killing and injuring more than 1,500 hapless people. Here, she got a mixed feeling of pain, anger and pride. From the epitome of religion to the place of martyrdom, Shivani saw a slice of India’s glorious history.

In the afternoon, we drove to the Attari-Wagah border between India and Pakistan to watch the Beating Retreat ceremony. The atmosphere was charged with nationalistic fervour and constant shouting of slogans for the country. Just as the sun was about to set, the bugles sounded on both sides and the flags of the two countries were lowered for the day simultaneously. This was a climax of heightened nationalistic sensitivity.

The two evenings, we went to traditional dhabas for dinner. We had to manoeuvre our way in small lanes, between rickshaws, motorcycles and pedestrians. But it was fun and we had simple, delicious, vegetarian food — hot crisp naans, paranthas, dal and a vegetable. Shivani could not believe that the whole meal cost just $3 per person. The following day, we returned to Chandigarh. My elder son and daughter-in-law got together for a family reunion.

Before leaving for the US, she mentioned that she had loved every moment and experience of the trip and said firmly, ‘I have to come regularly every year to see more of India, our great nation.’

The magic of India had worked!