Posted inCulture
Gurpurab of My Childhood: Langar, Mul Mantar, and My Dadi’s History Lessons
I remember clutching my father’s finger as we made our way through the crowd at the Golden Temple. My head was covered with mother’s red dupatta; I was clenching onto a ₹100 note for dear life until I managed to slip it inside the donation box. That was always my “duty” and I would take it very seriously.
