Yesterday was a bit of a blur as I tried to open my eyes lying in bed with my head hanging off the side. “Ooh, my head” I whimpered. My head was still spinning a little as I staggered around trying to find my socks. Being s Sikh I never miss my nitname, so once again I stuck the Japji Sahib tape in the deck and switched it on and let it play in the background. Sunday today and that means Gurpurb day at the gurdwara.

I decided to get my wonky beard line around my jaw a little straighter, which took all of five minutes and I discarded the single earring in my left ear, it kinda looked a little un-Sikh like. Black shirt , black trousers and white socks are the order of the day and lets splash on that Old Spice !

As we got to the gurdwara I thought it best to take out the Jazzy Malkit B cd from the car stereo and put on Bhai Gurjinder Singh Sirinagar walley. That very bland kind of studio kirtan that all ragis do these days was just the answer. As we walked up to the gurdwara it was good to see Jagtar singh having recovered from yesterdays incident on the pavement., “Kindaa?” I asked and simultaneously nodded my head in the traditional Sikh greeting. All along the way to the gurdwaras front doors I nodded my head and issued plenty of “Kindaa’s?” to my yaars. “We’ll meet later” I shouted to Juggy. As I ushered Pritam Kaur towards the womens side I saw Jarnail Singh, the Gyani, coming towards me so I started a slow “Waheguru, waheguru, waheguru” in a low voice. Gyani Ji smiled “sat siri akal puttar” he said in a friendly voice “Sat siri akal Gyani ji” I said nearly bumping into his extended tum tum.

I walked inside reverently and made for the shoe racks, just behind me I heard two people taking off their shoes and putting them on the racks. I just made out one say to the other in a low voice “Radha-swami” and the other replied likewise. These lot really get on my nerves “If you are not Sikhs that what the you doing here ?” I thought , so after they left I swapped their shoes about on the racks “Lets see then find their raah now.” I chuckled at my little joke and looked around, when no body was looking I took out my handkerchief and walked over to the facing wall and wiped the gold plated plaque hanging with my name on it. I read it to myself for the umpteenth time “Sarwan Singh Majitha, donation of £500”. I swear people look at me differently now that my name is up in lights. These donation plaques really put me on the map in the community.

During the long wait in the queue to do ‘mutha take’ I checked out the ladies and made a note of my mates who had turned up. It was nearly my turn so I took my hand out of my pocket and looked at the contents, a fiver, a few pound coins and some small change. I said a little prayer “Guru Sahib Ji please make all my sorrows go away and grant me a son, wealth and lots of happiness” I put 20p in the goluck and did my mutha take.

I was quite looking forward to the langar actually. I sat near the back and exchanged stories about the jaloos with Jagtar and the others. The ragies on stage said something or other about placing ourselves at the feet of the guru, wasting our lives on frivolous things and not doing enough naam simran, but it kind of went in one ear and out of the other, especially as Juggy was telling me about the latest Bollywood movie he had received on pirate DVD.

Langar is a fantastic tradition isn’t it, all that free food and eat as much as you can?

I just happened to sit next to Gyani Ji who was on my left and Juggy on my right. “Did you know Puttar, langar is very sacred?” commented Gyani.
“Han-ji” I said.
“Are we meetin’ tonight innit ?” Juggy was asking,
“Sure thing” I said having to swing my head around.
“So sacred it is that one should eat it in moderation and not be greedy” carried on Gyani.
“What?” I said “ucha, han-ji” came my automatic reply.
“Yeh, three roties yaar, and lots of aloo paneer” I shouted at the sewathaar who as usual totally overlooked my pleading eyes for service.
“Few glassies down the Red Lion, before Glassy Junction innit?” Juggy said I could see his excitement; we hadn’t had a good session with the lads for over a week.
“Ha Juggy” I said “and don’t forget the ‘you know what’”, he grinned a toothy grin nodding furiously.
“So sacred is langar that even the emperor Akbar had to sit in line before he could do darshan of Guru Sahib Ji” continued Gyani Ji not altogether realising my lack of attention.
“Han-ji Gyani Ji “ I said as I waved another sewadhaar who filled my thali with more sabzi, I was now on the lookout for the roti-walla.

Although the sun was shining it was a crisp morning with a touch of frost, outside the sangat thronged and milled about, the ladies in their latest fashion items didn’t seem to feel the cold much, but I suppose if you want to show off your latest creation to the world the cold weather is going to be the last thing on your mind, and what great hairstyles they have these days I mused. Some have it cut really short, some shoulder length, some with streaks and some like a chaotic gypsy style, aah to be a Sikh!

Massi Ji caught my eye “Pupoo“ she called as I tried to melt into the crowd, but it was too late. She came over “How is my little Pupoo?” she asked.
“Massi Ji” I said looking a little sheepish “don’t call me that, I am a grown man now.“
“But you will always be my Pupoo” she said as she squeezed my left cheek. I desperately looked around to see if anyone else had heard her, my street cred’ would go right down the drain.
“Pupoo, as you know we are looking for a match for our Rekha, have you been asking around?” she enquired.
“Ha Massi I have been looking for a good strong Jatt boy“ the last bit I said in a low voice as we Sikhs are casteless as you know, “he must be tall and must be fair and from a respectable family with good prospects.” She looked at me with a cold stare not quite sure whether I was mocking her or not. “What about Juggy?” I said.
“That idiot” came the harsh reply. “He is as dark as my roti-tawa, with a toothy grin, dropped out of college because it was to hard, even though he was doing media studies, he is out all hours, a layabout and drools from the corner of his mouth.”
“Actually,that’s a pretty good description of Rekha” I mumbled under my breath.
“Kee?” came the even sharper reply.
“No, nothing massi Ji”

I saw Pritam Kaur over the other side with her cousins, no doubt swapping information about the latest wrinkle-free products from QVC I thought. The amount of money she spends on exfoliating this, dehydrating that, anti-aging the other was a crime, and QVC laughed all the way to the bank over its gullible customers. Our eyes met, a quick wink and she knew it was time to go home. I made my apologies to massi ji and left.

Arriving home we were just in time for the Eastenders omnibus. “Stick that roast chicken in the oven, love” I called out to Pritam Kaur as I kicked off my boots and my eyes were fast closing as I yawned and settled into my favourite armchair.