Shrine of Gold

IT was early dawn, but the footfall seemed to imply otherwise. The narrow streets of the medieval city – never designed for new age SUVs - had already choked, while electric tuk-tuks tried to justify their existence by sneaking impossibly through the narrowest corners.

Even before I could get out of my tuk-tuk, peddlers had sold me a saffron headscarf and a fridge magnet, while I had to push back on plastic jerricans to carry forth precious water from the sarovar (Lake).

How could I refuse a jerrican, alleged a vendor – it was the very sacred lake that had given its name to the city (Amritsar means the lake of nectar); by refusing to carry its waters, I had pushed back on the most pristine memories of this place, almost committing sacrilege before my pilgrimage had begun. But I did not argue about intangible memories versus tangible H20 molecules. Every pilgrim’s progress was different, the lowest common denominator of which was definitely neither water nor its crucible. 

The cars continued to honk, the turbaned Sikhs everywhere spoke in a mellifluent language making me wonder if they were squabbling, or discussing collaborative techniques to resolve the logjams.

The crowds were swelling and I was carried by the sea of humanity around me, and without difficulty, was able to find my way around – to submit my slippers, wash my hands and feet, walk through troughs of clean water, get scolded for not covering my head yet. By the time I had tied my saffron headscarf, I had moved further to a narrow staircase that leads downward. It was then, after all these distractions – as if deliberately planted to sidetrack the purpose of the visit, and mesmerise you at the right moment – that I got the first glint of gold. I stopped on my way and looked ahead. After the eyes had succumbed to the pale white of marble everywhere – from the stairs, to the corridors, to the shoe stores and the water troughs – for the first time, a different colour seemed to break the monotony of the blanched boundaries.

But I had to walk along – a poet cannot ponder when persistent pilgrims push him from behind. As I walked down the stairs, the full immensity of the Golden Temple gradually revealed itself, bit by bit, one dome after another as the morning sun also began to sparkle, as if creating a crescendo and parting the curtains to the play called, ‘Welcome to the Golden Temple.’

Waheguru, I had finally made it, or should I say, I was finally allowed into the most sacred sanctum of the Sikhs, Sri Harmandir Sahib at Amritsar. The saying goes that one cannot choose to come to this temple, he is allowed only when Babaji (The Lord) beckoned you. After three failed attempts, there was I, finally, trying to make the most of this spiritual sojourn.

Where is the Golden Temple?

The north-western corner of India (present day Punjab) was the birthplace of Sikhism, a religion founded by Guru Nanak in the 15^th Century. Following the birth of the religion came a line of Gurus – teacher, who shaped its history: Guru Ram Das dug the sacred lake, and Guru Arjan Dev later sanctified the shrine, establishing it as the spiritual heart of the faith. Formally known as Harmandir Sahib, the temple stood as a symbol of resilience through centuries of conflict until it was rebuilt by Maharaja Ranjit Singh (founder of the Sikh Empire and the last owner of the Kohinoor diamond before it was taken by the British) and wrapped with gold in the early 19th century. The Golden Temple was thus not always made of gold.

Today, with over 100,000 visitors daily, it is the most sacred pilgrim centre for the Sikhs, besides being one of the most visited spiritual destinations in the world. While it has been on the tentative list for UNESCO world heritage sites since 2004, the Sikh leadership has opposed a formal application to prevent over-tourism in what is their spiritual epicentre.

Beyond the Golden Triangle

While a lot of domestic and international tourists visit India’s culturally vibrant Golden Triangle – Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, they miss out on Amritsar which is an hour-long flight from the national capital. Of course, Amritsar is not as star-struck as any of the three cities – these are historically and architecturally way denser – nonetheless, the Golden Temple is unique, and while Amritsar has a lot of other stars – and a crackling gourmet scene – the Temple alone deserves to extend the tourism Triangle to a Quadrilateral.

Talking of Agra, as I was descending down the narrow stairs and getting the first glimpse of the resplendent temple at Amritsar, I found the contrast of everlasting white and sudden gold quite exhilarating. It immediately reminded me of another colourful contrast – from deep-red, continuously running red sandstone everywhere on its periphery to a sudden transition to a cool, composed, tranquil white of the grandeur that is the Taj Mahal. I found the similarity of captivation through the contrasting of colours very poetic – as if the initial walk was making for a deliberately slow preface ahead of the main story. Two very different edifices, two purposes, religions, locations – the same play of colours to set the preamble!

The shrine and the Sarovar

As you enter the temple complex, you will realise you have to climb stairs down – for the Golden Temple stands on a lake at a much lower elevation compared to its surrounds. While most places of worship stand atop the tallest crests, rising on grand foundations so they look commanding, the Golden Temple is the exact opposite. Guru Arjan Dev designed Sri Harmandir Sahib lower than its surroundings - Visitors must step down, symbolizing the shedding of ego and the practice of humility before entering the divine space.

As you step down, you will find the temple standing at the centre of a rectangular lake – the Amrit Sarovar or Lake of Nectar (and hence the city’s moniker, Amrit-sar). While the surrounding marble walkway offers a spacious and peaceful stroll, the bridge leading into the main sanctum is a different story. Inside this inner shrine rests the Guru Granth Sahib, the holy scripture declared by the tenth and last human Guru – Guru Gobind Singh - in 1708 to be the eternal, living Guru of the Sikhs.

 The Guru of Page and Ink

At a time when imposters were trying to usurp the leadership position and when Sikh gurus were being persecuted by the Mughals, the declaration of the Guru Granth Sahib was an absolute democratisation of the wisdom of the Gurus, no longer symbolised by a person but a book that was written in the local Gurmukhi script for all to read, respect and reflect.

The Guru Granth Sahib became the eternal spiritual soul of the Sikh community, with the community itself becoming the body, allowing the Sikhs to prosper without the need to look up to a human leader. The Guru in blood and flesh became the Guru in print and ink. Today, any copy of the Guru Granth Sahib is as sacred as the other – and there is no ‘One’ copy. In fact, the original manuscripts of the book – whatever has survived the vagaries of time - are locked away elsewhere in private museums, while an ordinary copy is deified in the Temple.  

Because it is revered as a living monarch, the text is treated with absolute royal protocol—resting on a throne under a canopy and being fanned with a ceremonial whisk. The inner sanctum is open from 3:00 AM to 10:30 PM, and during these hours, the pathway stays heavily crowded with pilgrims, often resulting in a wait time of several hours just to catch a glimpse of the holy book.

The highlight of the temple's daily routine is the Palki Sahib ceremony, a deeply moving royal procession that transfers the scripture between the main sanctum and its resting bedroom at the Akal Takht twice a day. Occurring in the early morning around 4:30 AM and again in the evening around 10:00 PM, hundreds of devotees gather along the path to witness the event. The holy book is carried inside a magnificent gold-and-silver palanquin adorned with fresh flowers and silk sheets. As the procession moves to the thunderous beat of a ceremonial drum (nagara) and the joyful chanting of devotional hymns, eager volunteers continuously switch out to shoulder the heavy beams, sharing the immense honour of carrying their living Guru.

A Sensory Experience

I found the perambulation around the temple very interesting. Barefoot, head-covered devotees were found in contemplation everywhere. Some were walking like me, others were seated on the banks and listening to the sombre but melodious Gurbani (musical renditions of the scriptures); a few were also taking a holy dip in the lake. Sewadars – or volunteers dressed in electric blue robes and turbans and walking with lances provided a layer of security and order.

I also happened to see a few Nihang Sikhs – the martial knights originally formed by the tenth Sikh leader, Guru Gobind Singh, in the late 17th century as an elite, vanguard military order to defend the Sikh community against the Mughals – dressed in blue robes and blue turbans. I saw in them a timeless bridge holding together history, traditions, and that sense of pride in keeping together a small community in this one corner of the country.

What was also reassuring was that entire families – across ages – were seated or walking together, the younger ones not screaming for mindless, mobile entertainment: it felt as if within this walled compound, nothing had changed - not just traditions but also expectations, mannerisms and the core focus on that one shrine on the lake, and through that, the inner shrine of life.

The other aspect that intrigued me was that the Temple was open to people of all faiths, identities and nationalities. There was no discrimination (unlike many other religious places I have been to that were not open to ‘heretics’). Perhaps this respect is built into the community for there is a legend that Guru Arjan Dev invited a Muslim saint, Hazrat Mian, from Lahore to lay the foundation stone of this place instead of laying it down himself, a deliberate act to declare that the temple was open to all. The secularism is also reflected in the Guru Granth Sahib, that includes hymns composed and attributed to Hindu and Muslim saints such as Kabir and Ravidas.

As I kept walking, I realised it was not just a visual treat but a full sensory experience that reverberated with every step you took. Beyond the striking sight of the golden sanctum, the surrounding white architecture stood tall, showcasing a magnificent fusion of traditional Indian craftsmanship and grand Indo-Islamic design principles. That inverted onion dome architecture, so characteristic of Persian architecture, incorporated in the Mughal playbooks and epitomised by the Taj Mahal, was visible here as well, crowning the Golden Temple along with many other buildings. Towers – possibly inspired by minarets – also decorated the adjoining whitewashed buildings, as you could distinctly identify the four entrance gates in the four cardinal directions. The Akal Takht building (throne of the timeless one) also stood proudly inside the precinct (in front of the causeway that led pilgrims to enter the Golden Temple) – yet again, designed with an inverted onion dome and serving its purpose as the supreme seat of authority in Sikhism. It was also here that Operation Blue Star was fought in 1984 – the thought made me shiver that tanks had pounded this same building facing this same serenity.

Besides the sea of humbled humanity, the auditory landscape floated effortlessly across the courtyard, bouncing off the walls and creating an ambient, meditative soundtrack. The experience was deeply tactile as well. Walking barefoot on the clean, smooth marble getting slightly warm with the rising sun added to the sensory experience.

Following the perambulation came the unforgettable journey into the shrine itself. While the long queue tests your patience, the surrounding sea of humanity reminds you that everyone stands as an equal, transcending all faiths and backgrounds without discrimination. Little by little, the line inched forward in a steady pilgrim's progress. You left the embankment, crossed the marble causeway, and stepped into the temple premises of the main sanctum. Once inside, one is mesmerised by the sheer devotion filling the space. Within the lavishly decorated shrine, the holy book sits at the centre while priests perform sacred rites amidst continuous, meditative singing.

After hours when you leave the sanctum, you may perhaps feel a tiny shift in yourself - someone who stood through the test, and passed through the halls of peace to perhaps not find God, but re-discover the eternal spark that prevails in each of us but often held back by the humdrum of an everyday human life. If you don’t, that’s fine as well: The sacred prasad—a warm, velvety offering rich with ghee and sugar—waits just outside to delight your taste buds and ground you in the sweetness of the moment.

Day and Night

The Golden Temple has its own allure – sometimes, one visit may not be enough. The great thing is the complex is open 24 hours a day and is free to visit. If you can, you should time your visit twice, once during the day to see the golden décor under blue skies. And then, again, at night when the temple lights up after dusk in the dark and becomes a captivation with its striking lights and shimmering reflections.

I visited the temple again at dusk – warm golden lights focused on the temple amplified its glimmer and glow, while the shimmering reflections felt ethereal. Not just the temple, but all the surrounding buildings in the complex were lit with different colours in pastel tones – which under the dark skies, created a symphony of colours swirling around the golden epicentre.

Once you have been there, you may though wonder, why gold? What shrine to the Almighty needs an allure in 24 carats? It may feel a bit ostentatious, but it is perhaps a bridge that tests you – just like the causeway that checks your patience, tests your limits and filters out the tourists from the true seekers. Perhaps the entire set up is a portal, a gateway, a filter. Its purpose is then not to mesmerise you, rather to draw you to the threshold, bring you to the gateway. The grandeur is only to turn heads and stop you on your tracks. 

The real sojourn starts thereafter, asking if you have it in you to make it across the bridge of prayers, promises and pilgrimage and find yourself. The real question of the Shrine of Gold is then, not if you see the glitter of the gold, but if, having seen the aura, can you choose to un-see it and see what really matters…

18th October, 2026