A Feast of Religions

Over the course of two days, I visited a Sikh gurdwara, mosque, and three Hindu temples. If I’d left feeling anything less than sanctified, I’d have been disappointed. I can’t pretend to be an expert on the intricacies of Islam, Sikhism, or Hinduism, but I certainly gained an appreciation for the hospitality of the caretakers, imams, and priests. As I’ve returned to the gurdwara several times since our first tour, please see my separate entry about the gurdwara (“The Gurus of Hospitality”). Thus, I’ll recount my religious tour half-way in, beginning with the Hindu temples.

I especially enjoyed the music which floated wistfully through the open-air temples and mixed with the smokey perfume of burning incense. Leaning against a tall pillar, the flutist blew soft notes that flowed over the steady pounding of wooden drums. Behind me, drummers sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the front as the priests drew back curtains to reveal each of the gods in turn. 

Musicians at Hindu temple.

I shudder at my own use of the term “gods” as Hindus are not (as opposed to common belief) polytheistic. Instead, these statues represent varied concepts of the same god. We don’t all see god as a man wielding a pitchfork and protected by a serpent (Vishnu, known as the Supreme God). Nor do we all see god as a four-armed woman sitting atop a lotus flower (Lakshmi, goddess of wealth, light, and fertility). These are only two of the many forms of god acknowledged by Hinduism. Different temples focus on different deities, so worshippers can attend a service honoring their personal concept of god.

The priests draw back the curtains to reveal the gods.

Our Hindu tour guide cleared up another misconception about Hinduism before the service. Just as Hindus don’t believe in more than one god, they also don’t equate the statues with god. Instead, the statues, intricately carved, lavishly painted, and all depicted with large staring eyes, are vessels which god enters during the prayers. And those huge, unblinking eyes? They serve as a window to god, a way to see and be seen.

My favorite part of the temples are the beautiful roofs encrusted with stories of the gods.

We ended our whirlwind tour at the Masjid Abdul Gafoor, a beautiful yellow- and green-painted mosque which is more than 100 years old. Above the entry way, a huge sun dial emits 25 rays which denote the chosen Prophets in Arabic calligraphy. Standing on the front steps I have to crane my neck to see the Corinthian columns capped by green crescent moons which jut into the clouds. 

The sundial and crescent moon spires.

We arrived just as the Madrassah, a Muslim school which teaches Arabic and fundamental Islamic values, let out. The children threw their books into their bags and raced into the entryway. Some climbed the stairs and wandered inside the prayer room. Their teacher, a young woman with red glasses, pulled us aside and led us into a lower room. Inside, we were welcomed by an imam dressed in a flowy white jalibiya who opened the floor to questions about Islam. He spoke with a soft Indian accent, hands clasped in front of him, proud of his religion while personally humble. Eventually, he excused himself to lead the 5:00 service, and we returned to the entrance way.

Shoes pile up outside the mosque before the service begins.

Removing their shoes, men passed us on the stairs and walked into the prayer room. We were invited to attend the service, so the guys stood at the back of the room while the girls were led into a separate prayer room. Men and women attend segregated services, but the Madrassah teacher said that few women attend the services at Masjid Abdul Gafoor. In fact, she was the only attendant that day. She covered her head with a long white sheet and followed the service voiced over an intercom, standing, kneeling, and bowing in turn. 

After a day spent in temples and mosques, we dragged ourselves through mainstream Little India and ended up at The Banana Leaf Apolo. We were served never-ending mountains of white rice, potatoes, and cabbage on … you guessed it: banana leaves. Much later, they served our main courses (split among two people). Toyosi and I enjoyed Fish Kadhai, a white fish drenched in a spicy brown sauce and served with tomatoes and squash. We all ordered dessert, and what seemed like an hour later, we finally received them. Most were a sweet cream-based soup over gelatin and diced fruit. (No, this doesn’t sound good for a reason. I’ve found that Indian dessert is rather disappointing.) 

Toyosi and I enjoy Fish Kadhai at The Banana Leaf Apolo.

Thus concluded our first tour of Little India: a feast of religion and food. And now that you’ve read this incredibly long post, you’re probably as exhausted as we were when we finally returned to the dorms. But at least you don’t have 120 pages of dry reading due the next morning!