Goal: Enjoy Medhiana Conflict: Jarring Disaster: Puke
The SUV bumped and ground to a halt in front of a gurdwara. It was unlike any he’d seen before, more of an outdoor art gallery with a crowd five times larger than at weekend crowd at the Rexdale Sikh Religious Centre (formerly Canadian Tire).
Happy stepped out to see a large unfinished courtyard with painted sculptures.
Pinder told him to take off his nice shoes and put on slippers from the car instead, to make it less likely the beggar kids would steal them.
Happy walked to the sculpture closer to him. It was of a man being sawed in half. The saw was a cartoonish hacksaw, with two medieval men wielding it. The sculpture showed the exposed innards of the man on each side, sparing few anatomical details.
Happy walked to the next one which was of two kids getting bricked alive. Yes, they were standing serene while bricks and mortar were piled around them by labourers while their mother watched.
The one was an older man being boiled alive in a pot like potatoes.
“How are the torturers?” Happy said to Pinder.
“They’re the Mughals, the ruling muslims when Sikhism was founded,” Pinder said.
Happy now understood more of Jug’s hatred of muslims, including Saad. Shera hated muslims just as much, but excluded Saad. Which made Saad’s charm seem all the more remarkable to him.
“Why are they so gruesome?” Happy said.
“So we know what was done to us,” Pinder said.
“Do we want to forgive it, or not?” Happy said.
“We want to remember the pain. It’s not about forgiving or not. The people who did this and the people it was done to are gone. There’s no one to forgive or not. We want to remember the pain to give it meaning,” Pinder said.
“Do you hate muslims?” Happy said.
“I shot at Muslims in the war, but I also saved muslims from starting with my rations. I remember both. I have or love none. That is waheguru’s job. I did and continue to do my job and take care of my own,” Pinder said.
It was time to go inside. Happy washed his hands and feet in the custom trough ahead of entering the temple. The cysts on his legs were not in stasis, with reoccuring pus, and no new ones coming up. This was a victory.
As Happy stood back up from the wash his head felt dizzy. His stomach all of a sudden felt queezy.
He rusheds away back to the potholed parking lot.
Happy put one hand on the back of the SUV to brace himself and a rush of food came up from his belly. The torrent kept coming until his tummy was empty and he felt a bit of peace again.
The driver stepped out to check on him.
“Are you OK,” the driver said.
“Yeah it was too intense,” Happy said.
“You foreign kids are soft,” the driver said.