Two sikhs sit before the pool surrounding the Golden Temple. (Dikla Kadosh)

In a land of differences—religious, political, economic, and social—India’s history is in some ways defined by murderous conflict. Amritsar is the spiritual center for Sikhism as well as the staging ground for some of the country’s bloodiest battles, and our trip there highlighted the violent legacy borne of a billion people and centuries of colonial rule.

Last night we visited the Golden Temple, known as Sri Darbar Sahib in Sikhism. Though the religion shares many Hindu traditions such as rebirth and dharma, Sikhism was founded in the 15th century as a response to the caste system and focuses on equality. Despite comprising less than two percent of India’s population, Sikhs are known for their disproportionate influence on the nation’s politics and military. The temple is their holiest site.

At the temple, pilgrims performed rituals of purity outside the compound’s white marbled walls. We took off our shoes, washed our hands, covered our heads, and stepped through two shallow pools of water before we could enter the inner courtyards.

Inside, hundreds of Sikhs queued up to enter the Golden Temple, and some bathed in the water that surrounded the building. Nestled inside the protective white walls, the temple shined like the gleaming yolk of an egg.

The temple was built in 1589 in the spirit of unity, and worshippers flow through the doors in each wall. “The meaning of the four walls is people are welcomed from the four corners of the world,” said Jaswinder Singh, the temple’s assistant information official who greeted our delegation. “All are welcomed.”

But the walls of the Golden Temple have also invited bloodshed. In 1984, a Sikh separatist rallied outside the temple in the name of Khalistan, a secessionist campaign for an independent Sikh state. After the separatist locked himself inside the Golden Temple, then-Prime Minister Indira Gandhi sent military troops into the temple to kill him. The separatist’s martyrdom led directly to Indira Gandhi’s assassination later that year by two of her own Sikh bodyguards.

We saw another reminder this morning of the high cost of Indian freedom at the Jallianawalan Bagh, a public park in Amritsar where in 1919 a peaceful gathering of 3,000 Indian Sikhs, Muslims and Hindus were massacred by British troops. The open field where the victims were gunned down is now a memorial, with potted flowers lining the sidewalks and pillars marking the spot where the soldiers took aim.

On one side of the park, tourists peered into a 20-foot-deep well that 120 desperate souls jumped into, seeking refuge from the gunfire but finding only death. General Dyer, who led the British troops, was later murdered by a Sikh who had witnessed the massacre as a boy.

The site is now a focal point for Sikh pride. “It’s a historical place, and I feel proud,” said Gurpreet Singh, a 23-year-old Sikh who had traveled 250 kilometers to visit Jallianawalan Bagh. “A lot of Indians have sacrificed here.”

Still, the spirit of unity lives on in Amritsar. At the Golden Temple, we watched Sikh men carry the holy book Guru Granth Sahib from the nightly prayer service back to its resting spot, in a ceremony marked by rhythmic song, prayer and reverence. Though women traditionally do not carry the holy text because of its weight, any Sikh man who is able to hustle his way into a prime spot can help transport the book in its golden carriage.

But the Sikh emphasis on "ek oankara"—the idea that God is one—was most apparent in the Golden Temple’s community kitchen, where every day 45,000 worshippers eat as part of the holy experience.

Inside the massive kitchen, we sat in rows on simple jute mats as volunteers slopped lentil stew onto our plates. We humbly cupped our hands to receive bread. At the Golden Temple, Mother India’s embrace was large enough to include 20 visitors from America, and we ate that night in unity.