450 



THE NATIONAL GKOGRAPI11C MAGAZINE 



Photograph by Maynard Owen Williams 



THE DARBAR SAHIB, OR GOLDEN TEMPLE OF AMRITSAR 



Made of gilt, copper, and marble, this sacred shrine of the Sikhs houses the Holy Book 

 of their faith. There is also a small Hall of Mirrors, where the Guru once sat, which is 

 swept out with a peacock-feather broom Around this jewel, whose brightness was stolen 

 from Mohammedan buildings in Lahore, lies the Pool of Immortality (see text, page 453). 



herds smoke their gurgling hookahs and 

 evening settles down behind bright bulb- 

 ous domes. 



TAKING A PHOTOGRAPH IN THE "PEARL 

 BAZAAR^ 



Lahore, like many another Main Street 

 city, has its "pearl bazaar," where wait 

 the harpies "who paint their eyes and trap 

 the stranger," where "Flowers of Delight" 

 sit on soft cushions gazing downward to 

 the street. 



At one arched window I caught sight 

 of massive earrings and a necklace worthy 

 of a better place. Ascending steep, dark 

 stairs, I sought a photograph of such a 

 dancing girl as dyed the face of Kim so 

 that he seemed a low-caste Hindi boy. 

 There was bargaining — most serious. 

 Amply able to trap a stranger, these 

 modest-mannered women were at a loss 

 to classify me; but once convinced of my 

 readiness to play fair and not take photo- 

 graphs without permission, several of 

 them did what they could to make my 

 photographs worth while. 



One furnished a second bead chain of 

 soft gold to hold in place the raven hair 

 of the girl whose picture I desired ; an- 

 other lent a nose-ring which she thought 

 would add luster to the portrait; and all 

 aided in arranging the dress of my sub- 

 ject until a natural effect was out of the 

 question. Her fat hands were weighted 

 down with rings, but the pride of her ex- 

 istence was a cheap wrist- watch, which 

 she refused to conceal. 



Her hair was neatly parted and looped 

 low above each temple with two chate- 

 laines of soft gold. She wore a white 

 waist, long and with a skirt to it like a 

 Russian shirt, and over this a woven vest 

 of checker-board pattern in mauve and 

 tan edged with purple. Her full trousers 

 were spotless white and her heavy tink- 

 ling anklets were marvels of intricate de- 

 sign. Her dark tan socks were wrinkled 

 and faded. 



A SOLEMN STRANGER TO DELIGHT 



As she sat beside her window looking 

 down into the street, she was a picture 



