‘The holy city of bliss’ — that’s Anandpur Sahib for you. Located in the Ropar (also known as Rupnagar) district of Punjab, it is home to about 25,000 people. As with most small towns, life here moves at a leisurely — if somewhat monotonous — pace. But anyone who visits during Holi will fiercely disagree.

For three days during the festival every year, Anandpur Sahib transforms into a rambunctious carnival ground. People pour in from across the country for Hola Mohalla, a celebration of Sikh martial traditions. The town wakes up to the noisy arrivals of tourists and devotees, and the lingering smells of community kitchens (hundreds of them). Tractor-trailers, complete with three-tier beds of straw and mattresses, can give gypsy caravans a run for their money. Truckloads of families follow enthusiastic bikers into town, their huge saffron flags billowing from the vehicles. The highway is peppered with trucks, tractors, bikes, jeeps, bicycles and buses. Portly men from Punjab Police try in vain to regulate the annual traffic jam. On the weather-beaten faces of the farmers in the neighbouring fields, there are big smiles while songs and cheers constantly escape their lips.

In rural Punjab, spring is a sight to behold — the green and golden fields of wheat stretch from the highway as far as the eye can see, tall eucalyptus trees rim the fields and plump mango trees laden with flowers stand between them.

The large-hearted rural Punjabis load their tractors and trucks with firewood, vegetables and grain and head towards Anandpur Sahib, where they set up community kitchens to feed people during Hola Mohalla.

At the langars, volunteers work round-the-clock in shifts to feed visitors seated cross-legged on the floor, in symbolic equality. The love and devotion in serving people through the langar, or community kitchen, is as old as Sikhism, and all believers spend time in sewa , helping out at the langars. Young and old sit together as they peel vegetables and knead the dough; a few others are busy scrubbing dirty utensils while the rest serve the food with smiling faces. The people receive the food with both hands, in a display of their faith and gratitude. On the public address system, an announcer is busy enticing the hungry to try the jalebi, matar paneer, kheer and halwa.

Outside, the crammed streets are dotted with stalls selling everything from utensils to toy tractors, sweets, tattoos and little dolls with turbans. People make the rounds, their wallets getting lighter but their stomachs always full, constantly fending off invites to try goodies from the various makeshift kitchens.

On the roadside are parked numerous tractor-trailers, some equipped with huge speakers, televisions, LCD screens and telephones. People can be seen resting inside them even as others celebrate around them. “I spent ₹6 lakh on my trailer, to provide the comfort my people need,” says Amrik Singh from Moga. One tractor proudly displays the American flag, and its four-foot tall speakers pump out high decibels from behind the driver’s seat.

In the night, songs of balladeers ring through the narrow, white-painted streets of Anandpur Sahib. The ‘ taadi jatha ’, soulful folk songs and tales of bravery from the times of the Sikh gurus, are set to the beats of the dhadd , the hourglass-shaped drum which is as Punjabi as the bhangra and mooli ke parathe .

Keshgarh Sahib, the gurudwara at the centre of the town, is one of the five takhts (seats of authority) of the Sikhs and an important pilgrimage site. On April 13 (Baisakhi), 1699, Guru Gobind Singh created the Khalsa here. The Sutlej river flows south of the town and the Naini Devi temple looks down from atop the steep Shivalik range in the northeast. The reservoir for the Bhakra Nangal Dam, the Gobind Sagar, lies behind the imposing mountain range.

The Sutlej used to flow closer to the town in the past. It has moved with time, and a stream that once flowed around the Keshgarh Sahib has also disappeared.

There is a glittering Virasat-e-Khalsa museum, sanctioned in 1999 to commemorate 300 years of Sikhism. The massive and beautiful stone structure stands in harmony with the space around it. Designed by Israeli architect Moshe Safdie, creator of the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Israel and the Marina Bay Sands hotel in Singapore among others, the museum offers free entry. Several gurudwaras cluster around the hill on which the Keshgarh Sahib stands.

“For the gurus, it (the birth of the Khalsa) was a battle to rule minds, not territories,” says Vikram Sodhi, descendant of Guru Ram Das, the fourth Sikh guru, and founder of the Anandpur Heritage Foundation.

It was a turbulent time for the region; the Sikhs had fought long battles with the Mughals over religious persecution and Guru Gobind Singh wanted an army of battle-ready soldiers. He started a keenly followed tradition of battle games and sportsmanship, which survives to this day.

In their flowing blue kurta and saffron turbans, the Nihangs, the chosen soldiers of the gurus, practise most of the year for the Hola Mohalla. The performances include simulated battle play, martial games, tent pegging, bareback horse-riding, standing erect astride two or more galloping horses, gatka (battle with sticks) and other displays with weapons.

“A Nihang is one without ahankar (pride),” says Kulwant Singh. With chainmail woven into his double-layered dumala turban and a curved sword on his side, Singh strikes a formidable figure. He has been a Nihang since he was six; his second son and daughter have followed him into the tradition. The Nihangs, who live by a strict code of honour, are forbidden from attacking the unarmed.

Along with martial skills, optimism and fortitude in the face of adversities are the other Nihang teachings. They find a dry chapati ‘meethi’, and a shabby tent is as lavish as a ‘sheesh mahal’.

The camps of the Nihangs are spread across the fields around town. Horses are tied between the tents, with young men feeding and preparing the beasts for the final event. The programme begins with a procession of elders carrying the Granth Sahib, passing through the gurudwaras in the city and ending at the Takht.

Later in the day, the festivities move to the Charan Ganga Stadium, an open space at one end of the town, where more than a lakh spectators cram in to enjoy the displays of skilled horsemanship, swordplay and weapons training. From noon, the crowds stream into the stadium and swirl around the teams armed with guns, swords, maces and crossbows. The jams on the highway stretch for five km outside Anandpur Sahib. A small road that runs next to the Sutlej canal is the only available way out of the town.

On the highway outside the town are more langars, and a burly Sikh man flags down our car and fills my hands with dry chana for the journey back home.

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