Amritsar

A couple million people live in Amritsar and everyone is named Singh. It must be hell on the telephone operators. Amritsar is the capital of the state of Punjab and the pulsing heart of Sikhdom. The Sikhs are big, bearded, turban-clad, daggering carrying giants who live by a strict code of conduct: they believe in one God, they work hard, they share, they treat women as equals, and they always tell the truth. They also never cut their hair, and they never conusme tobacco, alchohol, drugs, or meat.

Sikhs are undoubtedly some of the nicest and most formal Indians we met on our travels. Aside from their amicable personalities I was struck by their sheer size. If India had an NFL the Punjabi Punishers would trample the rest of the countries lineman into the dirt. It would be no contest, which is probably why such a league has never taken off.

Most of the guys you run into in India are skinny and lanky with big goofy grins that split their faces wider than the seams on a fat guy’s pants. They look like… well, me actually. But the Punjabi guys have shoulders to match their grins. When they are not gaurding the India/Pakistan border or hustling about righting wrongs, these Indian titans pull cars around from hooks in their backs. Seriously. One afternoon, I witnessed five men inching down the street under the midday sun dragging compact Tata cars by two metal hooks piercing their latisimus dorsi. The last and largest titan was hooked to a brightly adorned mini-bus. If that is the price of stature then I count my blessings I was born a shrimp.