This original short story written by a 15 year old highschool student, for a summer school assignment, details the enthralling majesty of El Sobrante gurdwara through inspired awe.

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The Quiet Temple

On top of the hills in quiet El Sobrante lies a temple so majestic and beautiful it seems unreal. Hidden is the path leading up to it, by flowers so bright, and grass so green, it makes you believe you're in a dream. The road is steep and twisty, but you do not take fright for the sight takes not only your breath, but your fear away, when you see the view of the bay with the ships in the harbor and the deep blue of the ocean.

When you finally arrive at the temple, and see the shimmering gold dome with white roof and peach tinted walls, it looks like it's out of a fairy tale. As you walk in through the 10-foot tall doors, you are suddenly taken by the smell of fresh sweets at the end of the corridor. To the left are stairs that go up two more stories, and straight ahead is the langar hall where you eat food fit for kings.

As you go up the stairs, your ears are intrigued by sounds of God's music that goes on forever, and reaches your deepest down mind, and seeps into your soul.

When you reach the top of stairs, you survey the most beautiful sight. A 10-foot wide door opens into the gurdwara where people are singing and praying all in the name of God. The first time I walked through these doors, I knew I was at home.

As I walked down the marble isle, I saw what was ahead. There was most beautiful altar, rosewood carved with flowers, painted gold, and draped with blue velvet. When I came to the altar I bowed my head to the living guru, Siri Guru Granth Sahib. I gave my donation along with all of the offerings people brought. Dollars piled a foot high, food people have brought to be blessed, and the armaments sharp, all adorn the altar.

I turned and I saw the sangat sitting and singing praises in God's name. I went to sit. I and noticed kids tracing designs in the carpet with smiles on their face, and old men nodding off, or maybe in deep meditation? I looked up and the sunlight is streaming out from the skylights on bottom of the big domes that my dad put up in his spare time one summer. I remembered being on top of the roof when the domes were put on, it was a hot sunny day the roof was reflecting baking us in the rising heat waves. Yah, the good ole days.

I bowed my head again out of respect when the kirtan was done. I went down to eat at the langar hall where the food was being cooked. My plate was filled with roti, a flat bread, sabji a mouthwatering spicy vegetable, green peas and yellow potatoes we call aloo mattar, swimming in a red sauce, and fresh pure white homemade yogurt with little yellow boondi balls and green onions floating in it.

The Service ended and it was time to go home. I will never forget the temple in the quiet El Sobrante hills. Wherever I may go in life, that enthralling place will always be my home.

--About.com member submission, exclusive license © Satsimran Khalsa. (For reprint requests be sure to mention if you are a non-profit organization or school.)

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