The Jain Buddhists

We practice six days a week with Saturdays off, but a full moon also means no practice. This week moon day came on Sunday, which meant two glorious days off in a row. Some ambitious types headed off for Goa or Bangalore, but I thought it might be worth checking out something closer to home. The Jains are one of India's oldest religions and hold all human life sacred, they will harm nothing (but they'll let you kill plants for them). Some go naked. Others wear masks so as not to inhale bugs. They've built a massive temple 2 hours north of here, an easy day trip. Or so I thought. The first sign that things might be amiss was when we hopped in the car at 6am and said, "Jain temple" to the driver. "Yes, yes." He said. "Golden temple." Jain temple, we repeated. Golden temple, he repeated. We went around like this till finally he said. Ah. Jain temple.

The next sign was the flags. "Those are Tibetan flags," I said.

"Golden temple," the driver repeats.

It's early (we were advised the rising sun hits the stones of the 30 meter high temple beautifully) and we're the only ones in the parking lot. (From the giant bag of popcorn I assume they're planning on loads of guests.)

Even the toilet is closed. But we start seeing the monks everywhere. (Yeah, he's on a mobile.)

We head toward the gate and I love that we're the only Westerners there, wherever this there happens to be. Beyond the entry the sun is hitting a golden temple. Spectacular.


"Oh, the Jain Buddhists!" Raoul says.

When we stop laughing we hear horns and cymbals. Then chanting begins. We walk into a building surrounded by frightening images of gods trampling out evil, decorated with skulls and flashing their spears. At the head of the room is a giant golden Buddha and two smaller gods, and in the center hundreds of young Tibetan monks chant from these books.

The Golden Temple sits in the center and is locked. It's a weird cross between a Chinese pagoda and, well I guess a Tibetan temple, which I've never seen before. The details are amazing.

I wander the grounds, there are four such buildings (North, South, East and West?), all filled with incredible paintings, sculpture and other exquisite detail.

But my favorite sighting is the shriveled woman who walks around one of the shrines constantly (a form of worship). At last I'm treated to a tour of the Golden Temple itself (I've lost Raoul at this point), by this young man. And when I emerge they're lighting sandalberry (says my guide) in these giant stoves, sending a fog across the grounds. Smelled divine.

After an obligatory tour of the gift shops (we pick up some prayer beads for 60 Rs each), we head for a coffee plantation.

First we stop for breakfast at a roadside stall where we're treated to a masala dosa the size of my arm. Delicious, but man, that was the sucker meal for sure. 177 Rs for breakfast in the middle of nowhere was a HUGE gouge, but then again, only about $4 between the two of us so we can handle it. It's so easy to turn very Ugly American. (Whether you're American or not...)

On to the plantation, only it's private property. Not a tourist destination at all. The driver tells us just to walk along the road to check it out because there are snakes among the coffee bushes. (Has his English suddenly improved?)

Yeah, it's a theme. Raoul and I can't seem to ever get where we're going but it's not stopping us.