Women making chapatti by the thousands.

There’s a gold gilded shrine behind me standing majestically on an island, but bushy-bearded men want to take a photo with us.

This is India. Inside the Harmandir Sahib, aptly referred to as the Golden Temple, a white face is rare and welcomed.

This is an authentic temple experience like no other. The Sikh religion swells with hospitality and people of all colours, ages and religions are invited to indulge in the glory of their holiest Sikh shrine.

Inside other temples in India, a visitor feels like an outsider looking in, but the Sikhs proudly turn into impromptu tour guides, sharing stories of their religious history and their sacred treasures.

The temple is in the chaotically colourful, old city of Amritsar, in the state of Punjab. The only state with a majority Sikh population, every day is an expression of their faith through colourful turbans, long beards and small daggers that adorn most men traipsing the streets. The daggers are a symbol of self-defence for these saint soldiers that devote their lives to the pursuit of social justice and the mastery of control of their internal vices.

Near the entrance, there is a place to deposit your footwear; “Shoes are dirty. This is a sacred place.” Sikhs welcome all, but not shoes. How we’ll ever find our shoes from the hundreds of pigeonholes was a mystery, but then again, losing a pair of flipflops – or five – is nothing new while travelling.

Following cue from the other hundreds of excited pilgrims, we walked up the winding path to the temple. Distracted by the commotion of hordes of people washing their feet in the carpet of running water, I stumbled onto the top of the stairs overlooking the Golden Temple.

Stunned and speechless, the sight bursts onto the senses. This is the prize for not Googling a destination prior to arrival. I had no idea what to expect and it took my breath away.

Head covered, feet bare, men drop down to their underwear to take a cleansing dip in the icy water

A white marble courtyard decorated with intricate mandalas and other marble tapestry is the walkway to the Sikh Gurdwara. We join swarms of pilgrims who have travelled from across India and the world to fulfill their religious pilgrimage. A Sikh devotee proudly explains that with every 30-minute circuit of the Parkarma, another layer of your karma is cleansed.

The moat surrounding the temple is decorated with splashes of golden orange koi fish swirling in holy water like sunken jewels. Head covered, feet bare, men drop down to their underwear to take a cleansing dip in the icy water.

Women discreetly hide behind the allocated cubicles giggling like naughty schoolgirls.

The temple feeds 40,000 pilgrims every day as part of the Sikh philosophy of community service. This rivals the most efficient restaurant on the planet.

We were given plates, cups – no cutlery; this is India and, as the doors to the dining hall open, people from all castes, status and wealth burst in and sit in rows on the floor.

Volunteers dish out prasad of dhal makhani, vegetable curry, kheer rice and alu palak (potato and spinach) from tin buckets – delicious, plentiful and free. Second serving anyone?

Belly full. Now I can conjure up the courage to brace the eight-hour queue that sways patiently outside the Golden Temple. Inside the Mirror Room and the Grant Sahib Sikh bible awaits. This leg of the journey takes stamina and a heartfelt appreciation for the ultimate treasures of the Sikh faith. Once you join the thick belly-to-butt crowd, there’s no turning back.

Exhilarated. Exhausted. It’s time to roll out our sleeping bags and find a place to sleep. There are two options. We explore the free pilgrim guesthouses outside the temple.

Men, women and children huddled together side by side. A deep sense of community floats above the otherwise cluttered halls, as people rummage to find a nook to sleep in.

The more adventurous, yet seemingly quieter, route of sleeping on the white, marble parkarma floor seems more appealing. Where else in the world could we sleep and wake up with such a magnificent view of the still, pulsating temple?

Will we be shooed away by the men and women who wash the floor every two hours as part of their humble service during their once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage? No. We drift in and out of sleep, cuddled up under the stars, with soothing mantras playing on the loudspeaker – lullabies that complement the serenity and spirituality of the evening’s ambience.

At the risk of sounding terribly cliché – and bearing in mind I had been sleeping on Indian hostel floors for close to three months – this is classified as one of the most peaceful sleeps of my travels so far.

We wake up at 4am and sit in silent awe as we watch the sun float up and add a halo of glowing radiance to the glistening Golden Temple.

We drift in and out of sleep, cuddled up under the stars, with soothing mantras playing on the loudspeaker – lullabies that complement the serenity and spirituality of the evening’s ambience

Before breakfast, a jolly Sikh man invited us to help with the cooking in the oversized kitchen. We sat on the floor with scores of other families grating mountains of ginger and peeling kilos of potatoes, as onion-induced tears of satisfaction streamed down my face.

Watching the women roll, pat and flip chapatti (Indian bread), while men stirred the massive black cauldrons added to the sense of community.

The temple is a calm sanctuary of unparalleled generosity and hospitality in the hectic land of India.

The Taj Mahal may be India’s most renowned tourist attraction and it is as beautiful as the guidebooks promise – but the Golden Temple is a genuine, living experience of the Sikh philosophy.