A forest of maimed limbs and outstretched hands confronts all comers. Inside, three turbanned musicians caressing the harmonium and tabla drums accompany the steady chanting of the worshippers, many prostrating repeatedly or closing their eyes in bliss. I'm not unwelcome, for the Sikhs receive all visitors, but neither do I belong in the midst of such piety. Sikhism, whose roots straddle modern-day India and Pakistan, recognises no priesthood and the faithful pray according to their own consciences. All eyes are directed to the holy of holies, the weighty tomes of the Guru Granth Sahib.
Petals mount up steadily on the dais, to be removed in fists-full by an elder.
Later, I home in on a gleaming gold onion dome in New Delhi, India's Canberra. At the Sikh Gurdwara Bangla Sahib, foreign visitors are intercepted, supplied with bandanna and brochures, divested of shoes and cigarettes, and conducted clockwise around the interior of the marble temple. My escort points out the absence of the Hindu caste system or of barriers to members of other faiths. I notice the illuminated sign inviting believers to try the convenience of contributing by credit card. In India, that's fancy stuff.