On my first morning in Delhi, I came downstairs at the Imperial Hotel at 5:30 AM to find a taxi. I wanted to photograph the sunrise at India Gate, which had been recommended to me as a great vantage point for a memorable sunrise photograph. The concierge directed me to a driver, who told me he would take me there, wait, and bring me back to the hotel when I was ready. On the way, he introduced himself. His name was Kamal.
India Gate was still dark when I arrived, so I had to feel my way to a good vantage point for the shot I had in mind. By the time I finished, the sun was up and an hour and a half had gone by. When I called Kamal on WhatsApp, he was there to pick me up in three minutes, just as promised.
India Gate I Delhi, India
Over the next few days, Kamal became my morning companion on 5:30 AM sunrise outings. He also drove my wife and I to the places we wanted to see, including a cooking class and several temples. He was knowledgeable, kind, and his rates were very reasonable.
On my third morning, my last chance to shoot a Delhi sunrise, I asked Kamal where I should go. I had already tried to access the Presidential Palace grounds, but the guards turned me away. Security was tight because of protests involving the Cockroach political party. Kamal suggested the Sikh temple. I hadn’t heard of it, but a little research told me it would work well.
That third morning, I expected him to drop me off as he had the previous two days. Instead, he parked his stylish black Suzuki and came into the temple with me. I was stunned by the sheer size of the place. We took off our shoes, washed our feet, and went to the altar to pray. I asked Kamal if it was all right that I had said a Christian prayer, since I am Catholic and don’t know any others. He told me it was fine, that Sikhs welcome all religions. That surprised and impressed me.
Afterward, I went outside to photograph the temple at sunrise, reflected in the sacred pool. There were “no photography” signs everywhere, and as I set up my tripod, a man I took to be a temple elder, dressed all in white and holding a staff, came toward me. “No, no, no,” he said. Kamal stepped in and spoke with him, explaining something I couldn’t follow, and the man relented, though he still gave me a slightly puzzled look. I took many photographs.
A young man who had noticed me was curious about what I was doing, and he asked my opinion on a career question when I told him I was from the US, since his brother was working for Walmart in California. I was happy to offer him some advice.
Sikh Temple I Delhi, India
Then Kamal asked if I would like to see the temple kitchen. He explained that anyone who comes to the temple can eat there at no charge, and that volunteers do all the work. I was amazed by the scale of it: enormous machines and kettles, rows of volunteers chopping vegetables and cooking, and huge rooms stacked with large bags of food. The dining hall was vast, with no tables or chairs. Everyone sat on the floor with silver trays of food.
The photographs came out beautifully, and I was thrilled. But beyond another great Delhi sunrise shot, I came away with an unforgettable experience at the Sikh temple, thanks to my driver and new friend, Kamal. Our Tauck trip hadn’t even started yet, and I had already gained some real insight into a part of Indian culture.
