The 5th of January is an important holiday among the Indian Sikhs around the world, as it commemorates the birth anniversary of Sikhism's tenth Guru, the Indian Lord Sri Guru Govind Singh Ji (1666-1708).
In the Philippines, the Filipino-Indian community celebrated the holiday on the 3rd of January (a Saturday) with a worship service in the Gurdwara (temple) of Biňan, Laguna. The worship service was followed by a street procession, and distribution of foods to the Filipino community.
I have been invited by an Indian friend (whom I first met in the Khalsa Diwan Temple in Manila), to participate and photograph the festivities. Since Biňan, Laguna is only a few hours bus drive from Manila, and since the occasion fell on a Saturday in which I was free, I accepted the invitation. In fact, I felt very honored to have been invited to such an important occasion.
And so, on the morning of the 3rd of January, I was sitting on a bus on the way to Binan, Laguna. Kumar would be following later, but we agreed to meet at the Gurdwara(temple). He will be coming late because of some preparations. He gave me the directions to the Gurdwara. I would be riding in an Alabang-bound bus. I would debark in Alabang and then I would be riding in a Binan-route jeepney, which would bring me to the town proper. In the town proper, the Gurdwara is only a few kilometers away, and there are tricycles around that can bring me there in a few minutes.
I arrived in Alabang at around 8 in the morning, alighted from the bus, and hailed one of the Jeepneys with the sign Binan, Laguna. There wasn't a traffic except for some congestion near the Pacita Complex in San Pedro, Laguna.
The Jeepney I was riding on was only half-full, and our driver was speeding and seemed in a hurry to earn early money. One of my fellow passengers- an old lady- complained that with our crazy speed, we might as well be headed to the cemetery instead of Binan, Laguna. The driver seemed unaffected by the remark, and continued on his murderous speed, which if my estimation is correct, was in the 90km/hour. In the Philippines, riding a Jeepney is like Russian roulette. You never know if it's going to be your last.
I was seated at the far end of the long Jeepney seat, near the entrance, and I found it a good vantage point to take some pictures. Some of my fellow passengers were amused and asked me if I was a press. I said that I was only taking pictures for souvenirs. I always get embarrassed whenever people ask me if I work in the press. It seemed that in the Philippines, all people with professional cameras are already considered working for the press. I cannot tell them that the pictures are exclusively for this blog, because by then, there would be a lot of explanations as to what a blog is. And I was not prepared to give a seminar.
Meantime, our crazy chauffeur was picking up more passengers, and the seats were becoming occupied. I have to squeeze myself tightly between two fat women so they can seat comfortably while I languished in an uncomfortable position. I handed my 12 peso fare, and fellow passengers near the driver handed my money.
After thirty minutes, our Jeepney arrived in the town proper of Binan, Laguna. Thankfully, our murderous ride was over and we did not head to the cemetery as the old woman had predicted.
Binan is only a small town, but with very clean and well-paved roads. I would have loved to explore this lovely town, but I needed to arrive early in the Gurdwara, which was still one ride away by motorcycle. Public motorcycles in the Philippines are called tricycles. It is just a regular motorcycle but with a small cab appendage on the side for passengers.
After 5 minutes of tricycle ride, I arrived in the Gurdwara just in time when the worship service was already about to start. I didn't know anyone here, and I arrived as a complete stranger, with no one to give me a flower or a red carpet entrance. I called Kumar that I was already in the Gurdwara, and he said that he was already in San Pedro, and would be arriving in about a few minutes.
There were many Indians around and I hoped I look like an Indian, too. It seemed that in this place, all people are Indians. Indeed, I really thought that I was in a mini-India at that time. I took out my camera and took some pictures of the sceneries. Some Indian men probably thought that I was a professional photographer from the press, and called me for some pictures. Like the Filipinos, the Indians are very easy to photograph as they like to pose in front of the camera. It doesn't matter if you're an acquaintance or a complete stranger.
Afterwards, one kindly Indian elder said that I should go inside the temple to take pictures of the worship service. I removed my shoes and covered my head with a handkerchief, as was the custom, and entered their holy temple. At this point, I felt like I was gate-crashing to an important sacred occasion. Many Indians were seated listening to the sacred chants of the Gurus seated in front of the altar. It was a most divine place, and I felt that my camera was an unworthy equipment here.
I bowed to the Gurus and they nodded. Some Indians looked at me, a Filipino, wondering perhaps why I was there in the first place. I didn't look anywhere near like an Indian. I have the typical Filipino look. I sat at the far end of the worship hall, thinking if I can take photographs. Then one Indian seated next to me pulled out a digicam from his pocket and started taking photographs. I made a sign language clicking an invisible camera in front of my face if I can also take photos with my camera, and he nodded.
And so I started taking pictures. I became bolder each time I clicked my camera, and I even used flash. No one seemed to be bothered. Everyone was just listening to the sermon, which I couldn't understand because it was in Punjabi language. Suddenly, all Indians stood up for the arrival of the High Priests. I also stood up and took photos of the High Priests.
Meantime, three elder turbaned Gurus waved their hands, motioning me to come over to them. They have some of the most serious look I have ever seen and I thought that if I broke a protocol, I am willing to meet the punishment, whatever it is. I came over, with beads of sweat already forming in my forehead. To my surprise, the three elders spoke to me in Tagalog, and asked if I could take their pictures. I said yes, and they posed together. They asked for a print out of the pictures and was quite amused when I showed them their picture in the LCD of my dslr.
Lolo requested for this portrait
At this point, I asked them if I can take more pictures of the worship for proper documentation. They said that it was alright, I can take pictures of everything, but I should not take a picture of their Holy Book, the Sri Guru Granth Sahib, as it was forbidden. One of the elder Gurus even gave me a tip that in a few minutes, the Five Holy Men will be arriving, that everyone will be standing, and I should position myself near the door to get a good angle for pictures.
After a few minutes, from the corner of my eye, I saw my friend Mr. Singh arriving, attired in a garb of a holy man. It turned out he was, indeed, one of the Five Holy Men. How humble he is. We exchanged smiles, and everyone stood up to give honor to them. It's good to know I have a Holy Man as a friend.
To be continued....
In the Philippines, the Filipino-Indian community celebrated the holiday on the 3rd of January (a Saturday) with a worship service in the Gurdwara (temple) of Biňan, Laguna. The worship service was followed by a street procession, and distribution of foods to the Filipino community.
I have been invited by an Indian friend (whom I first met in the Khalsa Diwan Temple in Manila), to participate and photograph the festivities. Since Biňan, Laguna is only a few hours bus drive from Manila, and since the occasion fell on a Saturday in which I was free, I accepted the invitation. In fact, I felt very honored to have been invited to such an important occasion.
And so, on the morning of the 3rd of January, I was sitting on a bus on the way to Binan, Laguna. Kumar would be following later, but we agreed to meet at the Gurdwara(temple). He will be coming late because of some preparations. He gave me the directions to the Gurdwara. I would be riding in an Alabang-bound bus. I would debark in Alabang and then I would be riding in a Binan-route jeepney, which would bring me to the town proper. In the town proper, the Gurdwara is only a few kilometers away, and there are tricycles around that can bring me there in a few minutes.
Philippine jeepneys
The Jeepney I was riding on was only half-full, and our driver was speeding and seemed in a hurry to earn early money. One of my fellow passengers- an old lady- complained that with our crazy speed, we might as well be headed to the cemetery instead of Binan, Laguna. The driver seemed unaffected by the remark, and continued on his murderous speed, which if my estimation is correct, was in the 90km/hour. In the Philippines, riding a Jeepney is like Russian roulette. You never know if it's going to be your last.
After thirty minutes, our Jeepney arrived in the town proper of Binan, Laguna. Thankfully, our murderous ride was over and we did not head to the cemetery as the old woman had predicted.
Binan is only a small town, but with very clean and well-paved roads. I would have loved to explore this lovely town, but I needed to arrive early in the Gurdwara, which was still one ride away by motorcycle. Public motorcycles in the Philippines are called tricycles. It is just a regular motorcycle but with a small cab appendage on the side for passengers.
Street scene in Binan. I took this picture while riding the tricycle.
After 5 minutes of tricycle ride, I arrived in the Gurdwara just in time when the worship service was already about to start. I didn't know anyone here, and I arrived as a complete stranger, with no one to give me a flower or a red carpet entrance. I called Kumar that I was already in the Gurdwara, and he said that he was already in San Pedro, and would be arriving in about a few minutes.
There were many Indians around and I hoped I look like an Indian, too. It seemed that in this place, all people are Indians. Indeed, I really thought that I was in a mini-India at that time. I took out my camera and took some pictures of the sceneries. Some Indian men probably thought that I was a professional photographer from the press, and called me for some pictures. Like the Filipinos, the Indians are very easy to photograph as they like to pose in front of the camera. It doesn't matter if you're an acquaintance or a complete stranger.
The Indian Gurdwara in Binan is called
Sri Gru Nanak Dev Ji Temple, named after the first Sikh Guru
Sri Gru Nanak Dev Ji Temple, named after the first Sikh Guru
Afterwards, one kindly Indian elder said that I should go inside the temple to take pictures of the worship service. I removed my shoes and covered my head with a handkerchief, as was the custom, and entered their holy temple. At this point, I felt like I was gate-crashing to an important sacred occasion. Many Indians were seated listening to the sacred chants of the Gurus seated in front of the altar. It was a most divine place, and I felt that my camera was an unworthy equipment here.
I bowed to the Gurus and they nodded. Some Indians looked at me, a Filipino, wondering perhaps why I was there in the first place. I didn't look anywhere near like an Indian. I have the typical Filipino look. I sat at the far end of the worship hall, thinking if I can take photographs. Then one Indian seated next to me pulled out a digicam from his pocket and started taking photographs. I made a sign language clicking an invisible camera in front of my face if I can also take photos with my camera, and he nodded.
Meantime, three elder turbaned Gurus waved their hands, motioning me to come over to them. They have some of the most serious look I have ever seen and I thought that if I broke a protocol, I am willing to meet the punishment, whatever it is. I came over, with beads of sweat already forming in my forehead. To my surprise, the three elders spoke to me in Tagalog, and asked if I could take their pictures. I said yes, and they posed together. They asked for a print out of the pictures and was quite amused when I showed them their picture in the LCD of my dslr.
Lolo requested for this portrait
After a few minutes, from the corner of my eye, I saw my friend Mr. Singh arriving, attired in a garb of a holy man. It turned out he was, indeed, one of the Five Holy Men. How humble he is. We exchanged smiles, and everyone stood up to give honor to them. It's good to know I have a Holy Man as a friend.
To be continued....
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