Located in the heart of Punjab province, the town of Nankana, for most part of Pakistan’s history, has been on the fringes of popular consciousness—and government apathy. It acquired a flash of prominence last week when India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh flagged off the Amritsar-Nankana bus service, connecting the Sikhs of India to the place where the founder of Sikhism, Guru Nanak, was born in 1469.

The hoopla around the bus service fades away as I wend my way through Nankana town.

It’s only in the vicinity of the Gurudwara Nankana Sahib complex that the Sikhs become visible. Just about 400 of the town’s 1,00,000 population, they are mostly shopkeepers. Their shops are quaint, with glass cases stacked on wooden planks and in shelves. I meet Manjeet Singh, a grocery shop owner. He says, "Look at the houses, their construction, the shops, the commodities we sell, the meagre population of Sikhs and you can well imagine how much attention the birthplace of Baba Guru Nanak is getting from the Pakistani authorities." In July 2005, in the presence of the visiting chief minister of India’s Punjab, Amarinder Singh, the Pakistani Punjab chief minister, Chaudhry Pervez Elahi, had upgraded the status of Nankana town to district.

There are seven gurudwaras in the complex. To begin with, there’s Gurudwara Janam Asthan, or the eponymous Gurudwara Nanak Sahib, which was the site of the residence of Guru Nanak’s parents, Baba Kalo and Mata Tripta. The Janam Asthan was established by Guru Nanak’s grandson, Baba Dharam Chand (1523-1618), and the gurudwara at the site was constructed before the end of the 16th century, when Guru Arjan Dev (1563-1606) visited it. Gurudwara Nankana Sahib comprises a square and the domed sanctum sanctorum to which is attached a rectangular pavilion, built by Maharaja Ranjit Singh (1780-1839), inside a walled compound.

Around the Gurudwara Nankana Sahib are six others—Gurudwara Bal Lila, Gurudwara Patti Sahib, Gurudwara Kiara Sahib, Gurudwara Mal Ji Sahib, Gurudwara Tambu Sahib and Gurudwara Chhevin Patshahi. These buildings were constructed after the Sikh takeover of the place on February 22, 1921, a day after the mercenaries of its then Hindu custodian, Mahant Narain Das, massacred 200 Sikhs in a battle, apparently instigated by the British Commissioner of the Lahore Division.

The Sewadar, or volunteer, at the Gurudwara Nankana Sahib is Ishar Singh, an 85-year-old. "The impressive entrance you see is actually because of the efforts of Lt Gen Javed Nasir (former chief of the Pakistani Inter Services Intelligence), who was chairman of the Evacuee Property Trust Board, which looks after the gurudwaras." Perhaps because of the bonhomie between the two Punjabs following recent people-to-people contact, Rs 60 million was belatedly sanctioned in January for the renovation of all seven gurudwaras.

But money can’t possibly save from misfortune a shrine cut off from worshippers. Once, there were 25 sewadars here, now Ishar Singh is the only one left. "Some left; some died and others moved to Lahore or to India. I am the only sewadar here."

The mesmerising quality of composite culture beguiles me as I meet Sardar Rawail Singh, a former granthi. He’s barely able to converse with me in Punjabi. Rawail explains, "Actually, I’m a Sikh from Peshawar and therefore my first language is Pashto." He says he can’t fault the government’s attitude towards Sikhs on any count. "But it’s the general public that sometimes seems to disappoint and dishearten us." Rawail says that at times the locals taunt them for not taking Jinnah’s offer to go to India, for having stayed behind in the country whose birth they had tried to abort.

A small town with a creaking infrastructure poses tremendous accommodation problems for nearly 25,000 people who throng here every November to celebrate Guru Nanak’s birth anniversary. There are 114 rooms. I’m taken to inspect one. Outside the rooms are lockers. These were purchased because of the increasing incidents of theft in recent years, particularly from Sikhs coming from the West who bring substantial amounts as donation. Mosquitoes descend on me and Rawail as the door is opened to a room barely 10 feet by 10 feet. In this suffocating space 10 people are made to sleep together.

As anywhere else in the subcontinent, the class system is deeply entrenched here. These 114 rooms are assigned to Sikh visitors from Pakistan. For those coming from India, there are rooms with attached baths. There are a clutch of executive lodges, as plush as any three-star hotel, reserved for Sikhs from Canada, Europe and America. It’s simple economics: since board and lodging are provided free, what type of accommodation a person gets is linked to the volume of donations he or she plans to make. The three categories of rooms together total 300, leaving a swarm of Sikhs to live under tents pitched on lawns. A new wing of executive lodges is under construction, testifying to the management’s overweaning concerns for the rich, in sharp contrast to Guru Nanak’s opposition to discriminatory distinctions, caste or class.

Rawail Singh sweeps his arm around and says, "This place has an area of 25 acres and every inch of the soil has some spiritual value—even the basement." Even the basement? Rawail answers, "In 1921, when the Hindu mahants and the Sikhs fought a battle over the control of the Gurudwara, the Sikhs were victorious. The bones of the martyred Sikhs have been secured here."

Construction is under way in the pool of water used for the asnan, or ritual ablution. Tiles have been imported from India to relay the floor of the pool which has become slippery. "Over the years five people have drowned," says Rawail. The Langar Hall, where a 1,000 people eat together everyday, is awesome. The number of people eating here soars to a whopping 25,000 during the birth anniversary celebrations.

What has become the cynosure of all eyes is the Golden Palki (cot) that was brought here by Amarinder Singh. Of solid gold, the palki, on which the Guru Granth Sahib is placed, weighs tons and is encased in a huge glass frame.The palki has attracted tourists from all parts of Pakistan; every eight out of 10 visitors on an ordinary day are Muslims, I’m told. From there I visit the sanctum sanctorum where the Granth Sahib is kept. On the side is a small divan on which are kept bejewelled clothes as a tribute to the birthplace of Guru Nanak.

Inside the hall, I meet Sardar Janam Singh, who has come from Amritsar. He says the initiation of the Amritsar-Nankana Sahib bus service has been much appreciated. Yet, there are still problems galore. A visitor still has to travel to Delhi to obtain a Pakistan visa. The travel to Delhi is cumbersome and expensive. It adds to the Rs 1,000 a person has to fork out for a seat on the Amritsar-Nankana Sahib. Can’t they grant a visa in Amritsar itself, Janam Singh asks. Don’t they realise that the Rs 1,000 is too expensive for people like him?

O! Guru Nanak, why do the poor have to suffer so to reach you?

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