(The actual idea conception for this blog took place on June 28, 2025.)
I took the third-last aisle seat in the Vayu Vajra 5A airport bus from BIA, around 5 p.m. I settled into my seat with folded legs, covering my face and ears with my scarf to avoid the direct cool air from the AC vent, right over my head.
I closed my eyes and began to feel the emotions, especially pausing and reflecting on all that had taken place in the last three days and a few weeks prior—how certain dreams came to fruition and how I managed the planning so well, all on my own, by seeking help from known contacts and making new friends.
So, what I'm talking about is the Amritsar Golden Temple visit, which was right after a business offsite in Gurgaon—a day and a half-day trip.
The last few hours I spent in Amritsar were all about Seva (cleaning used water bowls), taking parikrama thrice around the temple, sitting with my feet dipped in the holy Sarovar surrounding the temple, relishing kada prasad (blessed food from the temple—a dessert), shedding a few tear drops, shopping for footwear for my mom and myself, some dried lentil vadiyan, enjoying some delicious kulfi and boiled corn on the streets, hopping on an electric auto, and heading to my stay location.
As I tried to remember the events that took place, I asked myself, "What is that one memory etched in my mind, the one I don't have to force myself to remember?"
Immediately, I had a flashback of that moment where I saw a lovely, thick khadi fabric which Dad loves and one I had been searching for in different markets and cities but couldn't find. Seeing that fabric, I instantly had this urge to get into the shop where a tall, elderly Punjabi uncle was at the counter. He was the owner. I asked if he had a few more colors and what price he would give it for. He said, "Yes, I do have them, and it costs 100 rupees per meter."
I casually asked him what he would recommend for a kurta, mentioning it was for my Dad (describing that he is slightly shorter than him in height). He suggested I should go for three meters.
I had to call Dad and get the go-ahead on the colors I chose—four of them. Actually, that was all they had. I fell in love with the cottons and natural fibers. Dad was riding and he picked up the phone, equally happy to see the fabric. He then overheard me talking to the owner of that shop and asked if he could speak to them. I said, "Of course!"
When I handed over the phone, Papa greeted that uncle in Punjabi: "Sat Sri Akal!" They spoke for a few seconds, and then I disconnected the call and made the purchase. The shop owner complimented my Dad's Punjabi. I smiled and left. Later, I drank a glass of Lassi in one of the shops opposite this one and rushed to buy a few veils for gifting my neighbor friends.
Back in my bus from the airport, what hit me was that there wasn't any reason for my dad to speak with the shop owner. But all he was re-living with that minimal interaction were memories of his own best friend, who was a Punjabi (Sardar). They grew up together, knew each other's lives inside and out, but the uncle (Dad's closest friend) left this world sooner, battling a life-threatening disease.
And I happened to be there in my hometown when it was the C19 lockdown. The day Uncle passed away, we had gotten our first second-hand car. I had seen my Dad sobbing uncontrollably, and how in his friend's last days, despite his tiredness from farming activities in the scorching sun or bone-chilling winters, he would take the evening to be with him, to take him on a wheelchair walk—to just make his life feel a little less burdened.
And that thought had me in tears.
In fact, my own Amritsar trip was totally dicey until I called up the auntie (Punjabi uncle's wife), and she helped me get safe accommodation and a driver.
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I sometimes feel extremely grateful and blessed to have been born into a family with such loving and caring people. One where friendship knows no bounds when it comes to being there for each other.
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🙏💕 This one's for Maa and Papa. Today, I deeply missed you both and remembered a few of my happy childhood days while listening to some old songs. 🙏💕
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