Religions Everywhere

Today was a day for sightseeing—and there was plenty to see. Delhi is a crazy-quilt of monuments from different eras, which of course no one visits in chronological order. This being India, most of the monuments had some religious significance.

I saw the Red Fort, an enormous complex built in the 1650s as the administrative center of the Muslim ruler. I saw Jama Masjid, Delhi’s largest mosque, elegant in the simplicity of its marble floor, enormous courtyard (capacity 25,000), and innovative double-dome structure.

Galbraith described India as a functioning anarchy

I visited a huge Sikh Temple during an afternoon service. I saw the kitchen that served thousands of meals daily, and the volunteers who cooked, baked, and washed dishes. The food looked awful, the kitchen was dirty and smelled bad. But there was a sense of purpose, of pride, of fierce devotion to this 500-year-old community. These are the men who wear turbans and steel bracelets. Their don’t-mess-with-me attitude soon earned them the reputation of a warrior class.

I also visited a bird hospital run by Jains, whose obsession with not killing so much as a fly strikes most non-Jains as fanatical. These are people who wear surgical masks all day to avoid inhaling (thus killing) tiny insects; they also refuse to eat root vegetables, fearing that harvesting them will kill worms. Well, as Gandhi said, “if you want to know what I believe, look at how I live.”

The cacophony of religions living side by side (Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Jain, Buddhist, and a handful of Christians) helps, I think, to keep everything in perspective here: hey, we’re all looking for truth and comfort, and everyone has their own route. As one of my grad school instructors used to say, paths are many, truth is one. Or as one Sikh guru here says, different teachers tell the same story in different words.

The busy street leading into Old Delhi from the Red Fort (named Chowdni Chowk) was so crowded that we could barely walk. Dark, unwell children clutched at my sleeve. Sellers of saris and digital cameras repeatedly pulled my elbow toward their shop, promising prices that would bankrupt them.

John Kenneth Galbraith, U.S. ambassador to India, once described it is a functioning anarchy. It sure is. Especially when India’s many gods are vying for room on Chowdny Chowk, street of dreams.