Spirit Of The Sikh

Out Of Respect

2012-01-29T19:49:00.001-05:00

When going to the gurdwara as a child, I would always sit at the very front of the darbar hall. And as my mind would wander off (like most kid’s do), I would observe the people in line to "mutha tek." Being the curious kid I was, I would notice the peculiarities in the way people bowed before the Guru. Although everybody may have the same reason for it, nearly everybody had a slightly different way of doing it. Some would quickly press their head against the floor and in one quick move bounce back up and spin the other way, others would kneel for nearly a minute before bowing, some would press their heads or rub their noses on the floor repeatedly, or touch the ears and eyes as they stood up - and the most intriguing to me, were the ones who would walk backwards, sometimes 30 or 40 steps exiting the hall so they would never “turn their back” to the Guru – fascinating!

As I’ve gotten older and visited many gurdwaras and homes, I still see many of the peculiarities I did as a child – mostly around how we keep Guru Granth Sahib Ji. The rehat maryada outlines a very basic protocol of how to keep Guru Maharaj in our homes, yet what I’ve seen is a lot more elaborate. Some use space heaters and lay heavy blankets over Guru Sahib in the winter or place fans nearby in the summer, some wash and change rumaalay every day, others cover their mouths and bodies up so much when near the Guru, so that no pollutant from their body could mistakenly touch a page. When I’ve asked people, especially those with very time-intensive routines, as to why they do the things they do, the answers are always the same...”I do it out of respect.” Years ago, I remember at the end of a gurmat camp, all of us campers followed Guru Sahib’s procession outside as Maharaj was being transported from the main hall to someone’s car. The space around the car was tight so many of us kids crowded around the hilly areas nearby. An Uncle scolded us for standing at a higher level than the Guru, and ordered us to “show some respect”. I thought to myself, huh? When the car drives downhill from the campsite, are we supposed to run alongside it, so we don’t remain higher? And what about gurdwaras with balconies (like darbar sahib) where sangat sits, would this be considered “disrespectful?” There was once a time where I would argue that much of this is out of ritual than respect...but not anymore. As I’ve matured a bit, I’ve learned that people’s relationship with the Guru is quite personal, and after all, who am I to stand in the way of their respect?

I can understand why someone would create an elaborate environment and routine for Guru Sahib - He is our king, so shouldn’t the setting and protocol be that of a king’s court? Or does caring so much about the external aspects drive us away from what’s important? Could this be a reason why Guru Gobind Singh Ji did not name one physical successor?

We come from a part of the world where there is an abundance of holy men, where one can serve their spiritual leader through gifts, luxuries, comforts, and service towards him. In a sense, it is easy...as long as you labor your way through the physical routine and pay your forms of ‘respect’ - you’re done. In return, the spiritual leader provides you the answer to life’s mysteries.

The Guru’s paradigm (as I understand it), is quite different. The answers lie inside you...and through baani, you will realize it. We serve our Guru when our every day actions line up with baani...not just through ritual. So if we truly want to respect him, then start with baani – read it, understand it, reflect on it, and live it!

Then what now becomes disrespect toward the Guru? There are all kinds of finger pointing these days about individuals and institutions doing “beyadbi” toward the Guru...and some of that may be true. But in my opinion, the single-most disrespectful thing I can do to the Guru...is ignore Him. When I choose to tune out the hukamnama at the gurdwara or on my drive home when I cannot remember what the hukamnama was...or if I choose not to look up a translation when the hukamnama was unclear to me. These are the things I do that are most disrespectful…this to me is “turning my back” to the Guru.

What I love most about being a Sikh, is that outside a few boundaries in the rehat marayada, I am free to define my own relationship with the Guru, so if that means I change rumaalay every day or my mutha tek routine takes 15 minutes...so be it. That said, Guru Sahib challenged us, not to be mere devotees...but to be students (Sikhs). And as we all know, no matter how much you impress or praise your teacher or how many gifts you give them...at the end of the day, it is how well you studied and understood what your teacher taught you and how you apply it to your life that counts...this is where respect begins.

Love Does That

2012-01-23T22:07:00.000-05:00

All day long a little burro labors,

sometimes with heavy loads on her back and sometimes

just with worries

about things that bother only burros.

And worries, as we know, can be more exhausting

than physical labor.

Once in a while a kind monk comes

to her stable and brings

a pear, but more

than that,

he looks into the burro’s eyes and touches her ears

and for a few seconds the burro is free

and even seems to laugh,

because love does that.

Love frees.

--‘Love Does That’ by Meister Eckhart

The further I journey through my adult life, I find myself getting entangled in worries
All kinds really
And as a parent, I’ve come to know a whole new set of worries that I never knew existed...perhaps it comes with the territory

And every now and then, on the more difficult days
when I feel like I am drowning in my worries...
A shabad will find me, reach out its hand...and pull me out

I often wonder...why did Guru Sahib give us his baani?

Sometimes I think he gave it to us as a lesson...from teacher to student
Other times, I think it is clearly the Guru self-reflecting on his own experience – and we are eavesdropping

Then there’s times where I think he gave us baani, for it his way to look us in the eyes...and ‘touch our ears’

He gave it to us as an expression of His love...

Thank you, Guru Sahib
Thank you for reminding me that it will never get too dark, for my Beloved shines too bright

The Perfect Guru has saved me.

He has enshrined the Ambrosial Name of the Lord within my heart, and the filth of countless incarnations has been washed away.

The demons and wicked enemies are driven out, by meditating, and chanting the Chant of the Perfect Guru.

What can any wretched creature do to me? The radiance of my Beloved is gloriously great.

Meditating, repeating, reflecting in remembrance, I have found peace; I have enshrined His Lotus Feet within my mind.

Slave Nanak has entered His Sanctuary; there is none above Him.

Please take a minute to experience this shabad in raag bilaval. Kirtan seva by Bhai Onkar Singh

Who Are You To Judge?

2011-12-18T19:59:00.000-05:00

As a teenager, most of my summers were spent in the gym, along with my friends, as we geared up for our upcoming Fall sports. When running and lifting weights, I always found my dastaar to be uncomfortable, so I would opt for a modified patka with a baseball cap on top. Now, before I get arrested by the panthic police, let me explain that this was not an uncommon practice (right or wrong) back then by many Sikh boys on the East Coast to wear bandanas or baseball caps during sports. Even after I moved to the Midwest after college, I carried the same look to the gym for my evening workouts.

After one of my workouts – baseball cap and all, I recall making a quick stop at the post office to drop off a package. While waiting in a long line, from the corner of my eye I saw a Sikh man standing way at the back near the exit. As I dropped off my package and headed out, I caught a better glimpse of the Singh. He was middle-aged, wore a flawless dastaar and had a long flowing beard. Although I never felt I was doing anything "wrong" with my workout attire before, I immediately felt uncomfortable and perhaps a little embarrassed. I quickly walked out, only making the slightest eye contact with him.

Weeks later while at the Gurdwara Sahib, enjoying my langar quietly and alone - as many bachelors in an unfamiliar city could appreciate - a familiar looking Singh in a kurta pajama sat next to me. After a quick greeting, it occurred to me it was the same gentleman from the post office. He introduced himself and shared a bit about his family and three children. He asked me about my work and we had a pleasant conversation. About half way through our talk, he brought up the incident at the post office and confirmed that it was in fact me wearing the baseball cap. I explained that it was only for the gym, but he didn’t seem to care too much. As we ate our langar together, he shared with me what it meant for him to wear his kakaars and how proud he feels to wear the Guru’s bana, regardless of where he is or what activity he’s doing. He had a labor intensive job, and said it wasn’t always easy to keep his dastaar, but he felt he owed it to the Singhs of the past, who gave their lives for us to stand proudly with our kesh and dastaars, to wear them at all times. He also said his children get excited when they see another Sikh at the mall or a restaurant, whether they are wearing a parna, dumalla, or the traditional Patiala style – it gives them a sense of pride – and that part of our tradition should never be replaced by a bandana or baseball cap. I didn’t say much...but listened closely. After about 15 minutes, he gracefully apologized for taking too much of my time and hoped that I had not felt uncomfortable with bringing up the topic. We then parted ways.

For the next few days, I thought about what he said and from that day forward I never wore a baseball cap again. Turns out, a parna is way more secure and comfortable than anything I’ve worn for a sport...and well, I know a 100 year-old marathon runner who can tell you a full dastaar would do just fine too :)

Now my little secret...this post isn’t really about Sikhs wearing baseball caps.

What may seem like a typical langar conversation between two strangers may not be so common after all. I can think of dozens of times in my community (and sometimes my family), where a person is criticized, judged, or slandered for doing something or looking a way that does not match with their perspective of Gurmat – all without the person in question present. Now in our highly socially-networked society, the criticism of the kid wearing the baseball cap, sporting the trimmed beard, the girl with trimmed bangs, or “did you see what she was wearing?” hits a facebook status quickly – it now spans a much wider audience in a much shorter time. So what was different about my situation at the Gurdwara?

Rather than making an episode of it, he chose to quietly approach me, engage with me, and share his thoughts in a gentle way. I could have easily been offended...who the heck does this guy think he is? He doesn’t know anything about me – my personal discipline, how spiritual I might be, how much seva I might do...just because he dresses the way he does, he thinks he’s a sant?

But none of that crossed my mind.

I guess something magical happens when someone approaches you with genuine humility. Sometimes, just sometimes...it makes you humble too. And humility can make you do wonderful things – pause, reflect, open your mind, and well...change.

Often times we shun criticism directed toward us, because after all, “who are they to judge?” and the automatic follow-up, “Sikhs are not supposed to be judgmental.” Is that so true? Sure, gurbani tells us to look within ourselves and change, but what role is sangat supposed to play? Aren’t we supposed to be honest with those in our sangat, help “pull each other up” and keep each other moving toward the Guru?

The Singh was right, and deep down I knew he was right or I never would have felt uncomfortable that day in the post office when I saw him. In years recent, I’ve tried to have that gentle one-on-one conversation like the Singh had me with me during langar. Whether it was a former student of mine who recently trimmed their beard or a childhood friend who started drinking...unfortunately, I haven’t been too effective. Perhaps they weren’t able to dim their ego long enough to open their mind...or perhaps my ego was shining too bright.

Clearly, it’s the approach that makes the difference. As we learned in the janamsakhis, Guru Nanak Sahib transformed the most villainous of criminals to change their ways and follow his path – I wonder - what was it? Was it his logic and reasoning alone? Perhaps...but I believe it was also his love, his empathy, and the compassion in which he expressed it.

So I need to reach a more genuine state of humility before I offer guidance and also the same to receive it. I have plenty of people around me to point out my flaws and weaknesses, people I love and respect, people who want me to be a better person, and a better Sikh. But I can’t think of many times I’ve controlled my ego long enough to truly listen. And if I only did, like that time at the Gurdwara, who knows what might be possible?

So for now, I will try to stay armed and ready...

Humility is my spiked club
My dagger is to be the dust of all men's feet
No evil-doer can withstand these weapons
(Guru Arjan Sahib, Raag Sorath, SGGS pg. 628)

Fighting The Good Fight

2011-12-11T18:35:00.000-05:00

Ever since its inception, I’ve been a quiet admirer of the Sikh Coalition’s work. Early on, as each press release and victory announcement came through my inbox, I was amazed at how quickly the Coalition managed to influence and change policy. Years ago, I also had the opportunity to volunteer on their behalf while making Sikh awareness presentations at high schools in the Midwest. But in all my interaction with the Coalition, I never expected to find myself in need of their services.

In late 2007 on my way home from a business trip, I was stopped by TSA agents at the Kansas City airport who asked me to remove my dastaar. I explained to the agents that I knew my rights and opted for the turban “pat down” in an enclosed area (before the self-pat-down was an option). Although the policy was technically followed that night, I felt uneasy my whole flight home. Maybe it was how I was purposely singled out because of my dastaar, or the embarrassment of being escorted through the airport surrounded by TSA agents, or the degrading pat-down itself...whatever it was, I felt I had to do something. I immediately crafted an email to the Sikh Coalition about my experience.

To my surprise, I received a response from a staff attorney within 24 hours asking for further details. Over the next few weeks, the Sikh Coalition filed a formal complaint with the TSA on my behalf and followed it through to the end, which included an interview to be reviewed by the DHS’s Office for Civil Rights & Civil Liberties. Somewhere in all the correspondence that went back and forth between the Coalition and the TSA, it dawned on me...I’ve been experiencing discrimination, profiling, and hate incidents for most of my life – never did I have anyone “representing me”, never did I feel I had anyone in my corner looking after my rights, never did I feel that anyone “had my back.” I felt empowered.

And I’m not alone in this feeling...a staff member recently shared with me how a Sikh student did not feel his principal was doing enough to stop his bully. He said to the principal, “I can have the Sikh Coalition here tomorrow!” And although it took some re-arranging of schedules, the Sikh Coalition was there...and the school responded.

As my relationship grew with the Coalition, I had the honor of joining their Board of Directors last year. I was hesitant at first. I consider myself a freelancer and like to help any project with any organization doing positive work, but after attending a fundraiser shortly before the launch of the ‘Right To Serve’ campaign, I knew there was something different about this organization. The Coalition was about to take on the United States Army, an organization deeply rooted in tradition and history, with a monumental task of making a religious accommodation to the Army’s uniform policy. But even under such daunting circumstances, the atmosphere that night was different...there were inspiring speeches, people smiling and laughing - there was an air of optimism and confidence in the room that you don’t typically find in these events. That’s when I knew the Coalition was trying to build something. They were not going to limit themselves to “putting out fires”, they were here to establish the Sikh image and identity in the fabric of America...permanently.

My experience on the board has made me view the Sikh Coalition and its work through a different lens. As I've witnessed behind the scenes - on the road to securing civil rights, it can get a little bumpy. The Sikh community, although relatively small, is a dynamic one with varying perspectives. Even a simple press release or advertisement for an event can receive praise from one segment of the community, yet harsh criticism from another.

I’m often questioned by critics, “Why did the Sikh Coalition invest so many resources on the ‘Right To Serve’ campaign? All this for two or three people? Do we really expect that many Sikhs to join the military?” I would wonder similar things in the past, but what I’ve since discovered is the precedent such cases set. The Coalition invests so much time on individual workplace discrimination cases due to the Sikh uniform. If a well-respected organization like the Army with its strict guidelines on uniforms accommodates Sikhs, how could any local police department or security company not? The debate itself could end. I’m also asked why the Coalition rejects certain cases, “aren’t we here to serve the community”? Well just as easily as precedent can help us, it can hurt us too. If we take on a case without the right circumstances, a loss can set a devastating precedent that could affect our work for years - a balance must be struck.

A large part of my job is listening to our community – supporters and critics alike, as there is very valid and constructive criticism to our work. The Coalition is often pegged as being “out of touch” with the community it serves because of its lack of an institutional presence at gurdwaras. Although I don’t believe our civil rights organizations need to fit within a Gurdwara’s management structure, I do feel there’s room for improvement in communicating programs and opportunities to the communities we serve and also communicating back the sangat’s needs more regularly to the staff and board, especially the needs of our sangats in under-served communities. These are all things I hope to focus on during my tenure.

But the most difficult conversations are around budgeting and fundraising. As lucky as we are to have majority of our donations come from individual donors, as a whole - we still fall short. As a recent Pew Forum on Religious Advocacy Groups (where 3 Sikh organizations were studied) showed, Sikhs are sorely under-investing in advocacy efforts– we’re not even competitive with other communities- even though our needs are significant. Interestingly, many of the leading philanthropic foundations in the world i.e. NY Foundation, Atlantic, Soros and others have thoroughly evaluated the work of the Coalition, recognized its leadership amongst all non-profits, and as a result repeatedly rewarded the organization funds for more programming. And when we don’t meet our fundraising goals, tough questions arise...where do we cut back? Education? Legal? Community Organizing? We have long ways to go to establish the Sikh identity in this country and in my opinion - we cannot afford to compromise on anything.

In all the challenges and criticism, there have been some inspiring moments too, like how the Coalition recently took the lead in demanding an independent audit of the TSA and potential racial profiling, a letter that received signatures from 37 other Civil Rights organizations. Or when New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg (surrounded by Sikhs) signed into law a bill -initiated by the Sikh Coalition- that will significantly enhance religion-based protections for employees working in New York City. A law that will not only benefit Sikhs, but also Jews, Muslims, and any others who wear articles of faith. Seeing Sikhs take the lead is proof that we will no longer remain quiet as victims, no longer will we have our backs against the wall. Now Sikhs will have a seat at the table, influencing policy for the benefit of our community and other communities who share our struggle.

Beyond the accomplishments, I especially cherish the stories I’ve heard from staff and other board members...like after the dinner celebrating Simranpreet Lamba’s (first enlisted Sikh in US Army) graduation from basic training, he stood to salute his superior, Captain Kalsi before parting ways...none of this would have happened a few years ago. And most recently, the story about a recent large donation from a Non-Sikh we received shortly after launching the Unheard Voices of 9/11 website. When inquiring how she learned about our work, she stated “I've been reading on facebook and the thing is the Sikh Coalition is doing great work...we need to stick together and make this country a better place.” She didn't mention any Sikh friends, acquaintances or anyone actively soliciting the donation. But she believes supporting the Sikh Coalition will make this country better...how beautiful. This leadership role in the civil rights arena and ideal of service to all of humanity brings out the fragrance of Guru Nanak, and reminds me of why this work is so important.

I am very grateful to be part of this work, grateful to be part of this movement, and grateful to finally be able to stand before my Sikh brothers and sisters - whether at a children’s camp or my local Gurdwara - and tell them that no Sikh should be discriminated or denied anything for embracing the Guru’s bana - and if you are ever told otherwise, call us...we got your back.

To learn more about the Sikh Coalition’s work, please visit http://www.sikhcoalition.org/
To donate, please visit www.sikhcoalition.org/donate.asp

Wisdom To Know The Difference

2011-11-01T23:17:00.000-04:00

Remember quote books? If not, these were the books that poetry nerds like me used to have many years ago, so we could document all our favorite quotations. I once received a quote book as a gift which on the front had Niebuhr’s serenity prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

With all the quotations I captured over the years in my book, it was actually the one printed on the front that stuck with me the most. And I would realize different aspects of this prayer at various times throughout my life.

For me, the easiest to understand was the “courage to change the things I can”...in theory at least. Being a Sikh, I feel this is something I’ve learned early on. Gurbani reveals the traits, personality, and thinking of a gurmukh. I have always found myself distant from this ideal, so there is always work to do and progress to make. It’s almost hard to be complacent. If I am truly a student, I need to always be reflecting, learning, and finding ways to improve myself in order to move closer to the Guru.

“Accepting the things I cannot change” hasn’t been quite as easy. Especially as I’ve gotten older and experienced more hardship and loss. I’m constantly in battle with my ego and attachment, and although Guru Sahib gives me the tools to overcome this, to rise above the five vices and accept his hukam...I still struggle.

The “wisdom to know the difference” has really just been an afterthought. Frankly speaking, the categories of things I can change and cannot change have always been pretty black and white to me – so why the need for wisdom to know the difference?

I recently heard an audio essay titled ‘The Serenity To Change The Things I Can’ by Mark Olmstead from my favorite NPR series, “This I Believe” that challenged my beliefs and made me re-think the importance of “knowing the difference”, especially in my relationship with gurmat.

Often times when having gurmat-related discussions, with friends, at camp, or during gurbani veechar, I often find myself reflecting on the virtues of a gurmukh, not just the personal discipline but more so the internal qualities - compassion, humility, forgiveness, acceptance of hukam, seeing Waheguru in everyone etc. and conclude thinking to myself, ”Yup, it’s hard to reach that stage” and without even thinking about it, quietly tuck that away in my “accept the things I cannot change” category. It’s becomes easy for me to say, “Yeah, I’m just not there yet” and be content with that. It’s almost as though as long as I’m being honest with my weaknesses, it makes it okay.

That charade may work for a while, but it surely doesn’t when you have children. If I want to be a role model for my children, then I need to “walk the talk.” Although other adults may sympathize with my weaknesses - my kids, however, are not interested in my excuses. And do I really want to be that parent who has to constantly make excuses for himself, anyway?

In Olmstead’s essay, he accepted the fact he had to live in a litter-filled community...until he found the courage to create change, and by doing so, started to question what other things were possible. He states, “You can’t assume to know the difference between the things you must accept and the things that you can change—you have to think about it” – I couldn’t agree more.

So perhaps I need to re-examine the things I’ve long accepted as "things I cannot change", and create some tangible goals for myself. Not everything might be possible right away, but something has to be. I take comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my challenge – my family and sangat are there to help me. As my wife and I recently discussed, sangat is not just people you listen to kirtan with, they are the people who inspire and encourage you on your path to the Guru…and perhaps, should hold you accountable toward your goals.

Such ruminations on change, acceptance, and well...litter, made me think of a story a friend recently shared. As a teenager in Amritsar, my friend would often run in to Bhagat Puran Singh. Sometimes he and his friends would join the legendary gursikh on his evening walks. During one of the walks, he noticed that Bhagat Ji would stop to pick up trash off the road and put it in his pocket. He would continually pick up trash throughout the course of the walk. Finally my friend asked, “BhagatJi, no matter how much trash you pick up, you will never clean all of Amritsar.” BhagatJi lovingly replied, “When it’s time for me to face my Master, he will not ask whether I’ve cleaned all of Amritsar…but he will ask whether I’ve cleaned my path”

How Bad Do You Want It?

2011-10-08T17:26:00.000-04:00

A few months back, I wrote a post about ‘Pyaas’ (Thirst).

The argument I made was that above and beyond our external uniform, our personal discipline, and panthic responsibility - there is something else that is essential in the life of a Sikh...that desire or yearning to be with the Beloved.

In discussing this topic at a few different Gurmat camps this summer I shared a story I read about two Zen Bhuddist Monks, and how the younger/junior monk asks the wiser/senior monk, “how do I reach enlightenment?” Turns out the story is a pretty universal, as I stumbled upon it in a slightly different context in the video below. In the video, the student asks his Guru "how do I become successful?"

Being a football fan and having a terrible habit of explaining things through sports analogies. this video really appealed to me. At the end of the day, anybody can put on a uniform, but only few can live up to what that unform respresents...only few will achieve greatness.

Living the life on the Guru’s path can be challenging...battling your own ego, jealousy, and anger can often feel like sprinting up hills. But imagine what it must feel like to stand above it all?

Whether it’s an athlete reaching his goal, a businessman achieving "success", or a Sikh trying to connect with her Guru...the question still remains...“How Bad Do You Want It?”

With Our Heads Held High

2011-09-03T21:45:00.000-04:00

Over the summer, I had an opportunity to visit several gurmat camps across the east coast. There’s a workshop I facilitate for the younger kids called “Who am I?”, where we use role playing as a way to come up with clear and concise answers to commonly asked questions from non-Sikhs. The theory being - with quick answers ready, one is likely to be more confident and empowered when dealing with people and not shy away from opportunities to educate others. However, as the workshop would trail off in to questions and discussion, the focus tends to be on the more adverse interactions with non-Sikhs – bullying. In the last camp I attended, I asked a group of 35 kids (ages 11-14), “How many of you have been teased, harassed, or bullied at your school because of your Sikh identity?” Surprisingly, every hand went up. That’s right...every one.

I wondered...how was I so naive?

Although I had my experiences being bullied and teased in elementary and middle school, that was decades ago! Since then, more minorities and immigrants live in America, more Sikhs live around bigger cities, and “multiculturalism” and “diversity” seem to be the buzz words everywhere in building successful institutions. I mean, we have an African American president…but has our country progressed at all with it's acceptance of different religions and cultures? And with a simple Google search on “bullying”, you’ll find so many anti-bullying resources that weren’t available when I was a kid...yet still, the problems persist. Painfully, I sat through story after story listening to how kids were called names, teased; one girl even had the bottom of her braid cut off. Another boy told a story where his friend's patka was foricbly removed and flushed down a toilet. And the worst part was...this was at a camp in the suburbs where parents spend hundreds of dollars to send their children. What about the kids who weren’t at camp? What about Sikh children who live in underserved communities? Or children of recent immigrants, what do they go through?

But all is not lost...toward the end of one of the camps, I sat through the most powerful workshop I had attended all year. A group of teenage campers from the Richmond Hill area in Queens, NY representing their youth group Sikh Youth of New York (a Sikh Coalition initiative) led a workshop on bullying for the younger kids. It was amazing to see these group of teens (some of who have experienced bullying themselves) empathize with these children, encourage them to seek assistance, and congratulating them for their courage. It was beautiful. Check out this short video on bullying by the Sikh Youth of New York, featuring some of the campers.

All of this made me reflect on my own experience. As I mentioned, I had my share of teasing and bullying, as many of my Sikh friends did. At that time, being the only Sikh at your school was common, being the only Sikh in your city or county was more likely. I vividly recall at one point in middle school, when the teasing was particularly bad, sitting on a bench one day all alone after school feeling lost and confused. I remember wondering...am I really cut out to be a Sikh? Maybe this is not for me.

Years have passed, and now I find myself leading workshops for children who are experiencing the same things I did. Funny thing is...I don’t remember what happened after I left the bench that lonely day in middle school. Somehow, I just picked myself up...and moved on. Or perhaps I wasn’t really alone on that bench after all.

agan saagar booddath sansaaraa, naanak baah pakar sathigur nisathaaraa

The world is drowning in the ocean of fire. O Nanak, holding me by the arm, the True Guru has saved me

So if you’re being bullied, know that you are not alone. Guru Sahib is always helping his students struggle their way through the rough spots.

I’m sure many are aware of the common steps to take if you are being bullied i.e. (1) tell the bully to stop (2) tell a teacher (3) tell a parent – but if the bullying persists, contact the Sikh Coalition. Turns out, times are a little different now. Schools are required to act when a bullying incident is reported and failure to act could get the school in trouble. Organizations like the Sikh Coalition and other civil rights groups are trained to hold schools accountable.

And if you’re not being bullied, be proactive! Create an anti-bullying club in your school. Who knows how many people you could be helping? By banding together...your collective voice is sure to be heard.

Remember, the Sikh identity is not something we should be ashamed of – nor do we need to apologize for it. Our uniform, gifted by Guru Sahib himself, represents the principles in which we believe – equality, justice, courage, compassion...so we should stand tall and wear it proudly!

At camp, I concluded my workshop with a story of a general of the Sikh Army in the 80’s who in the midst of a war was asked “What is it that you want? You’ve lost so many men, you are outnumbered by your enemy...what is it that you are fighting for? He responded, "dho inch dee gal hai" - "a matter of two inches" meaning, our enemies wants Sikhs to walk with their heads down, looking at the ground, while the Khalsa will only walk with their heads held high, looking forward.

Stay strong brothers and sisters...Chardi Kalaa!

No Kaur Left Behind

2011-07-24T22:19:00.000-04:00

Shortly after a recent blog post, a few parents and I were discussing our experiences presenting Sikhi at our children’s school. One parent had an extremely positive experience when a Sikh Coalition presenter came to speak at her daughter’s elementary school. So much so, the presenter was asked to come back and speak to some of the other grades.

In hearing about this, I asked my friend’s 9-year old daughter what she liked about the presentation; she was particularly excited to show her kara to everybody and her long hair at the appropriate times. I then asked her, “How did it make you feel after the presentation was over?” She replied with something that stuck with me, “I felt so special…I wanted to cry.”

As a child, I dreaded the first day of school. Not just because of the anxiety of being around new teachers and students, but that was usually the day my Dad accompanied me and would explain to my teacher in his quick three minute speech who Sikhs are and what I was wearing on my head. Some teachers were not quite sure what to do with this information, while others were very engaging and would share what they learned with the class.

As difficult as it was to get through that introduction, it did come with a sense of relief, not only for that day but for the whole year. At that moment, everybody knew I was different, everybody knew I followed a religion that required a certain discipline. And because of that, I looked different...that was it! After that, people could befriend me, dislike me, or ignore me as they so chose – I really didn’t care. No matter how hard I could’ve tried, I would never look like the other kids, being different was something I simply had to accept. And years later, it was something I grew to love.

So many of my friends throughout my school years struggled to find their identity and develop their sense of individuality, with my Sikhi - I didn’t even have to try! I believe these experiences over time have helped develop my self-confidence, and those few awkward moments every year where my father would educate my teacher played an important role in that.

My sister and I were raised with the same Sikh values at home – but my parents never visited her classes, nor did they ever feel a need to explain to her teachers or other students that she was a Sikh. And why should they? Let’s be honest...those three minute talks with my teachers were not to promote Sikh Awareness, it was simply to convey enough understanding so I wouldn’t get bullied and want to come home and cut my hair.

It wasn’t just my sister who missed out on that opportunity, but I would guess most girls in our community did not have that same “special handling” as so many of the boys did. I wonder what teachable moments were missed? What life lessons could’ve been learned? Sure, we all have struggles to overcome during our adolescence that help build character - it does need to be because of our faith or identity. But I feel the boys of our community get that extra support and encouragement by default, whereas the girls are often overlooked.

As you can imagine, there are broader issues here, much of which goes back to the double-standards we see in our communities every day. Young boys are praised and encouraged to wear a dastaar, but what about young girls? How many dastaar bandhis for Sikh girls/women have you attended? When a boy cuts his hair, the whole community is vigilant, asking “what should we do about the boys?” but a Sikh girl cutting her hair goes unnoticed. We all praise young children (boys and girls alike), when they reach milestones on their Sikhi – learn a new Shabad, memorize their paath, etc, - but how many of us encourage the teenage girl who’s aspiring to take Amrit?

Last month, many of us read a fascinating article by Lisa Bloom about the traditional way we speak to young girls and how it sends all the wrong messages. It made me wonder if we need to re-think the way we talk to our little Kaurs. Even amongst our daughter’s Sikh friends, we are quick to compliment their clothing or ask about their hobbies and TV shows, but I rarely ask how many pauris of JapJi Sahib they’ve memorized or ask them the meaning of the shabad they just sang (or explain it to them if they don’t know it), nor have I asked any of the older ones how far along they are on their practice for Charni Lagna. Perhaps the way I interact with these young Kaurs needs to change

To be clear, I applaud how our community supports and encourages our young Singhs, but I must ask...how can we carry on that type of empowerment to our Kaurs?

At a local camp this past week, a teacher reflected about a dialogue that took place in one of his classes. In discussing the Char Sahibzadey, one student noted that Guru Gobind Singh had four sons, but did not have any daughters, but then an 8 year old girl stood up and said “That’s not true…he has me!”

This is what I want every Kaur to feel...the sense of pride, history, and love that only the daughter of a King could feel.

Out Of Service?

2011-06-17T15:41:00.001-04:00

Over the long weekend, I had the good fortune to attend a Gurmat retreat out in the Midwest.

The theme for the retreat was the Rehat Maryada and I thoroughly enjoyed spending an entire weekend in workshops that delved in to the various components of the Maryada, like Gurmat Rehini (Living in Gurmat), Shaksi Rehni (Personal Living), Guru Panth, and Seva.

Few camps or retreats spend much time on the Rehat Maryada, and when discussed, it often gets criticized mostly due to its outdated language. And although I do agree the language could use an update and perhaps some of the more subtle points could be debated - honestly though, I don’t get hung up on that. I do feel the Rehat Maryada by and large accurately defines the discipline of a Sikh and Sikh practices. Furthermore, I respect the significant time and patience it took all involved in the process to dialogue, negotiate and ultimately agree on the final document. It was one of only a handful of events in the past hundred years that utilized concepts of 'Sarbat Khalsa' as a means of consensus building - a process and art that has largely been lost.

During the retreat, as we dove in to the correct practices of our Gurdwaras and the panthic process of conflict resolution, I couldn’t help but think how far we’ve drifted. It's almost as though "what Sikhs should do" and “what Sikhs actually do" were topics for two different retreats. How and when did such a gap occur? If such well-thought ideas were put in place with the Rehat Maryada, debated on, then approved by so many institutions – why aren’t we seeing it in action today? Why are we still trying to fix the problems the Rehat Maryada was supposed to solve? Others at the retreat noted this disparity too, and the answer that kept resurfacing was, "Well...the machinery is broken."

To a large extent, I agree. I believe the Rehat Maryada is just as relevant now as it was a hundred years ago. And those who debated over the initial draft had a desire to bring consistency amongst our practices so we can be more united, advance ourselves collectively, and resist external influences that try to disrupt such unity. All of this applies today, especially the methods of conflict resolution and consensus building that was defined by Guru Sahib. It simply requires a little bit of learning, humility, reflection, and faith.

But clearly...we're not there yet.

You don’t have to go too far to see it...babas run rampant, maryadas are plenty, we fight over which "jatha" is right, and we deal with conflict through storming in to Gurdwaras and beating people with cricket bats.

I believe in the machinery. It was inspired by the Guru Granth and built by the Guru Panth. Unfortunately though...it is temporarily broken.

Or is it? Can it really be possible? Are we as a panthic entity simply "Out Of Service?"

Maybe it’s my post-retreat "high" or the completion of another milestone birthday - I'm not sure. But for whatever reason...I refuse to see the glass half-empty.

Although I don’t believe we're in the midst of another Singh Sabha Lehar by any means – I do, however, believe there are pockets of movement all around us. It may be scattered, but it's happening.

I suppose there are Gurdwaras and Sikh Institutions who use the Rehat Maryada as a basis for their operations.

I trust there are sangats in small corners of the world who do in fact use principles of 'Sarbat Khalsa' as a means to resolve conflict and build concensus.

Years ago, I heard that after several months of unrest at a Gurdwara on the West Coast, two rivaling factions within the presence of Guru Sahib bowed before the Guru, dissolved their committees, and deferred the leadership of the Gurdwara to an elderly sevadaar that the entire community respected. Since then, I’ve heard so many variations of that story, I’m not even sure it’s true anymore. Maybe it’s just “panthic” legend that people like me hold on to :)

So does this post have a happy ending? Maybe some hope for the future? You tell me...

I need your help...please comment and let me know what you, your family, gurbani group, Gurdwara, or organization does using the Rehat Maryada or the concepts of Sarbat Khalsa as a method for decision-making. Maybe some stories of panthic unity that don’t always make the front-page. Whatever you got...let’s hear it.

Inspire!

Where Do I Begin?

2011-06-01T23:23:00.000-04:00

I was terrified.

I didn’t even want to leave the parking lot.
But our presentation was to start in only 10 minutes...there was no turning back.

I've done my share of public speaking - from pitching to executives in a board room, to addressing a packed auditorium...but this one had me a little uneasy.

We were told to "keep it short...no more than 10 minutes...they lose interest after that." But what if they lose interest sooner? Or worse, start heckling? There was no more time to worry...it was "go time." And as my wife and I entered the room, they all turned to look at us - fresh out of circle time...a room full of preschoolers!

Shortly after we enrolled our daughter in her new pre-school, her teachers asked if we had any holidays we'd like to share with the kids in the class. Perhaps it was just their effort to encourage cultural diversity that prompted it...or maybe it was the questions they got after I would leave the room. I once asked my daughter, "Do you explain to your friends why Daddy wears a dastaar?" She would innocently reply, "I tried...but they don’t understand Panjabi!"

We eagerly scheduled our visit around the time of Vasakhi several months ahead, but as the time neared, I got a bit nervous - what could we really explain about Sikhi in 10 minutes...especially to 3 and 4 year olds? Frankly, I'm not sure how successful I've been explaining things to my own children, based on the questions I get re-asked on a regular basis. At the same time, my wife and I try not to get hung up in teaching facts and figures...at this age, it's more about creating an environment of sangat, simran, seva, and keertan...with hopes to build on that foundation in the years to come. So I can understand how difficult it might be for our daughter to articulate Sikhi to her friends, even though it such a large part of her life.

In preparing for the presentation, we debated over what to cover and what to skip - should we talk about how Guru Nanak Sahib challenged the caste system? What about the compilation of the Guru Granth Sahib? The order of the Khalsa? Or our brave heroes like Baba Banda Singh Bahadur and Mai Bhago? What about concepts like simran and langar? Where do we begin...where do we end?

Ultimately, we decided to take a simple approach. After covering the three "golden rules" of Sikhi (Naam Japna, Vand Chakna, Kirit Karni), we briefly explained the uniform of a Sikh and how it reminds us to live by the three golden rules, to treat people equally, and to help those in need. We explained that rather than receiving gifts, we celebrate our holidays by doing seva (self-less service). A few weeks before, we started a shoe drive where parents were asked to drop off gently used athletic shoes, which are then used to help support families from farming communities in rural African countries (http://www.pppafrica.org/). This really resonated with the children...and their parents too, as many of them dropped off large bags of shoes. Everyone was excited to be a part of this project.

As our ten minutes were up, I wondered if we really did justice to the path of Guru Nanak...I mean, there was so much we didn’t have time to talk about...so much we missed. But at the same time, if years from now all these children remember was a Sikh family came to their school, they looked a bit different - but they were happy, compassionate, and wanted to help people in need...well, then all is not lost.

And as our children get older, perhaps these annual presentations will mature as well.

As were ready to leave, many of the kids ran over to the look at the pictures we brought of Sikh men, women, and families. Other children went to the poster of the "penthi" to try and write their name in Gurmukhi script. The teachers also approached us wanting to get more information about visiting our local Gurdwara…all in all, it seemed like a success.

But most important, was the huge smile on our daughter's face during the entire presentation and the excitement in her eyes as all the kids joined to sing the "Goodbye" song, which today was replaced by the "Fateh" song.

It was though a load had been lifted off her shoulders...and all her friends caught a glimpse of her wonderful world of Sikhi.

The Great Divide

2011-05-20T22:48:00.000-04:00

A response to "Where Are We Heading"

After reading Charanpal Singh's article a few times and the comments to follow, it occurred to me that this isn't really about Balpreet Singh or the WSO.

In fact the entire premise of the article was debunked when Balpreet commented that he wore a suit and tie to the General Assembly. And the idea that employees of a Sikh organization should reflect the "norm of the Sikh community" is absurd. If the majority of the community cannot be identified as Sikhs and violates the rehat maryada, is this the profile we should be seeking out for representatives?

Perhaps things are different on this side of the border. The way I see it, we have enough influences that are moving people away from Sikhi, so if someone chooses to celebrate their bana...more power to them!

Didn't Guru Sahib give us this uniform because he wanted us to stand out? Wearing a 16-inch kirpan may not be my personal style, but when the Kirpan or any of our articles of faith are prohibited, for whatever reason, I would expect our community to stand united, not blaming one another.

As the rest of the article and comments spiraled into a bizarre debate of what looks attractive, unkempt, smart, "scraggly" and so on...we finally hit some "real" issues of identity, assimilation, and how far we as Sikhs must go in order to adapt to our environment. Obviously, opinions vary.

I may look at someone wearing "Nihang Bana" and question the need for it. Others may look at me for keeping a "khulli dharrhi" and think I look unprofessional and unkempt, and some may look at those who wear dastaars as being backward altogether, as the necessity for a Sikh uniform is really outdated...and round and round we go. Each group judging one another, thinking they're superior over the other, wondering what "they" are trying to prove.

Years ago, I ventured across the border to attend a youth retreat in Toronto. I immediately found myself out of place with most of the male retreaters in "Nihang Bana." But what really shocked me was when meal-time came around and I found the cafeteria broken off in different groups, some only eating out of "sarab loh" dishes, while others only ate food prepared by other amritdharis who followed the same maryada.

I thought to myself, this is a Sikh retreat? I was ready to pack my bags and leave! But somewhere over the next couple days I began to engage with some of the folks. My roommate woke up well before dawn every day, washed his hair, and completed his five banis and spent 30 minutes in simran before the sun came up.

And after dinner, another group would meet and sing the most beautiful kirtan until late in the night. And when we entered the Guru's darbar and sang the theme shabad we had spent the weekend discussing, it was like one voice...we were all connected. It was one of the most powerful Sikh experiences I've had. The more I engaged with everybody , the more I realized we weren't all that different at all.

The Rehat Maryada defines the bare minimum of who a Sikh is, but above and beyond that - there are all different shades. We can fight it...or we can learn what we can from each other and leave the rest behind.

While at the retreat, during those powerful divans, I realized that amongst all our differences, we all shared one thing in common...a desire to connect with the Guru. At that moment, our clothing and eating preferences really didn't matter.

Somewhere in this debate, we overlooked something significant.

Women who wear veils were fighting for religious accommodation. And although this practice is prohibited by Sikhs, in the spirit of the Guru Tegh Bahadar, a Sikh organization felt compelled to speak out on their behalf - as no one should be prevented from practicing their religion or wearing their articles of faith freely.

Charanpal Singh called this "an altruistic act." I agree.

It's quite beautiful really.

But somehow, rather than celebrate what unites it - we'd rather bicker over what sets us apart.

It makes me wonder...where are we heading?

The Undelivered Speech

2011-03-20T21:31:00.001-04:00

This weekend I had the good fortune to serve as a judge for a Sikh youth speech competition. I participated in such competitions quite a bit in my own youth and to be honest...I hated them!

I felt the books were boring, the questions too limiting, and the guidelines too restrictive. Or maybe I disliked it so much because I never placed well :) Either way, I recall at one point as a teenager vowing never to participate again, after all – why should any aspect of my faith or understanding of Sikhi be measured by a panel of judges? So there I was yesterday on the panel of judges...what can I say? The sixteen year old within me is very disappointed!

The competition itself went by quickly – speaker after speaker went up, we quickly filled out our evaluations, prizes were awarded, and I was back in my car heading home. But during my drive, I began to think, what if the judges were given an opportunity to speak today? What would I have said? What could I have offered these youth...or better yet, what do I wish was said to me as I sat in their place years ago?

After pondering these thoughts along with inspiration from a story I heard a few months back, I decided to do something I’ve never done before. As odd as it may sound, even though the event was over, I wrote my speech anyway. And, well...here it is:

----
As I watched your presentations today - it dawned on me - that by listening to your six minute speech, I have no idea what you’ve really learned. I haven’t a clue what you’ve truly understood of Baba Banda Singh Bahadur’s life, what lessons you took from it, what principles you have internalized, or what aspects you’ve applied to your life. To simply put it...I cannot measure your conviction.

So instead, I judge you on your talent. How well you articulated your answers, your delivery, diction, style, eye contact, how well you “captivated” us. And at the end of the day, the most talented will win.

But I do believe...at some point in your life, you will face challenges.
And the principles you read about in these books will be realized.

See I participated in these same competitions decades ago, but many of whom I competed with, are not identifiable Sikhs anymore...even those who won first place trophies. Some have chosen to leave the faith altogether.

As a Sikh, you will be challenged...I guarantee it. Be it external challenges, internal...or both

At such a time, you will have the choice to respond like a Banda Singh Bahdaur – with courage, with bravery, with valor...or not.

And when you face these challenges, I can assure you...it will not be your talent that will matter

It will be your conviction

So I hope through this process you have all become better public speakers, it’s an invaluable skill to have both for your academic and professional life ahead. But deep down, My ardaas is that you have not simply read these books for the purpose of competition, but instead you have reflected on these amazing jewels of our history, you have internalized the principles you've learned…

And tucked it away for safe keeping.

So that whenever challenge comes your way, in whatever shape or form it may come…

You will be ready

Are You Spiritual Or Religious?

2011-02-27T22:49:00.000-05:00

I seem to gravitate toward discussions of faith and religion.

I find myself having conversations with people regarding their beliefs and traditions all the time – on the train, sporting events, and sometimes in line at the grocery store. Perhaps it’s the uniform that encourages the discussion – nevertheless, I appreciate hearing people’s personal way they define and practice their spirituality...well, at least most of the time.

Lately, I find myself having more and more conversations with other Sikhs about Sikhi and somewhere in the discussion they’ll say, “Well, I consider myself more spiritual than religious.” That’s usually the point where my eyes glaze over. Not that I don’t care about their opinions and personal views on connecting with God, but at that point I no longer feel we’re having a conversation about Sikhi.

I feel my definition of a Sikh and Sikhi is quite broad, but if a goal of a Sikh is to let go of our ego and become a Gurmukh (literally, face toward the Guru) through learning Gurmat (the Guru’s way), then where do all these individual views on “spirituality” fit in?

This debate over being spiritual versus religious is not isolated to Sikhs, and is actually quite popular amongst Americans who seem to be drifting from organized religion and in to a more nebulous category of “spiritual.” And although a quick Google search will show you how passionate the debate is on either side, the definitions of what is “spiritual” and what is “religious” are still quite vague.

If I try to strip away biases each side has toward these terms, spirituality seems to be associated with developing an inner relationship with God (or higher power). God is spoken about in more close and personal terms (in your heart rather than in heaven), there’s more tolerance of other faiths, and more references to being God-loving versus God-fearing. But the primary focus seems to be on the individual journey to enlightenment rather than subscribing to any specific rituals, practices, or “rules.” Religion, however, takes inspiration from the past, has traditions and customs that go back generations and is often based on scripture. Religions provide a framework, guide, and sometimes a set of rules and/or practices to reach enlightenment. Religions tend to have a more defined following and build structures and institutions to support the congregation.

Reflecting on these two thoughts and relating it to Sikhi, I think there is clearly spiritual elements - in fact it is one of our primary goals in life to overcome the five vices, self-realize, and recognize Waheguru within ourselves. That to me is a very personal journey – but for a Sikh, does it stop there?

Guru Sahib also tells us to surround ourselves with saadh sangat, others who are seeking truth (or already found it) so we can collectively more further along the path. So how “individual” is this journey after all?

If we look at history, the establishment of dharmshalas to the initiation of the Khalsa all points to creating a sense of community, structure, and institutions. This to me is far beyond the boundaries of spirituality's inward journey.

And the creation of the Khalsa, along with its discipline and uniform, is designed to take that inner spirit and proclaim to the world that we are sons of daughters of Guru Gobind Singh – and here to serve a greater good....so where does this leave us?

Where does spirituality and religion fit in Sikhi? Or better yet…

Which are you? Do you consider yourself Spiritual? Religious? Both? Or Neither?

Pyaas

2011-02-17T22:06:00.000-05:00

I’ve often connected with shabads where Guru Sahib uses “pyaas” (thirst) as a metaphor to describe his longing for Waheguru, whether he is referring to the rainbird (Chatrik) who waits patiently and whose thirst is only quenched by the raindrop:

prabh sio man leenaa jio jal meenaa chaathrik jivai thisantheeaa

My mind is attached to the Lord, like the fish to the water, and the rainbird, thirsty for the raindrops

Or in more direct forms, where Guru Sahib expresses longing for His darshan

chir chir chir chir bhaeiaa man bahuth piaas laagee

har dharasano dhikhaavahu mohi thum bathaavahu

It has been so long, so long, so long, so very long, since my mind has felt such a great thirst. Please, reveal to me the Blessed Vision of Your Darshan, and show Yourself to me.

I guess when it comes down to it, I don’t know how it feels to have an intense longing to be with the Guru...but I do know thirst.

If we look at it in the simplest form, we all know what it feels like to be thirsty, don’t we?

Now let me think about a time when I felt the deepest thirst ever. I think of high school and two-a-day football practices in the dead of August – running sprints back and forth to the point of exhaustion. I remember feeling a thirst so intense and so deep, that all I could think about was water. My mind was consumed by it. Instead of hours, what If I had to wait for days before that first sip of water? It would completely take over my mind and body. So if I multiply this hundreds of times over, perhaps this is a glimpse of what Guru Sahib phyiscally felt being separated from his Beloved.

The Rehat Maryada defines a Sikh, but above and beyond that, I believe each of us have a definition or image in our mind of who a Sikh is. When I hear friends and family refer to someone who is “in to Sikhi”, it’s often tied to the physical appearance. To others it might be someone who spends their time doing seva, some feel it is one who is well versed in Baani or a talented Kirtani.

All those things may be true...

But I feel something has been missing in my own personal definition...and perhaps within me.

Pyaas

I call myself a Sikh, but am I a really seeker? And am I seeking the truth only out of my interest and appreciation of the Guru’s way (and when it is convenient)? Or is it because of a genuine yearning to be with Him?

Do I feel that longing for his darshan? Darshan is often defined as His “presence” or “meeting”, but to me, receiving His darshan is not about “seeing him” physically - It’s about seeing like him. It’s about bridging the gap between his mind and mine...and seeing humanity through the Guru’s eyes.

Do I thirst for this? Do I feel this pyaas?
Not even close.

But I have caught glimpses.

And through His Grace, I hope those glimpses will become more frequent
That they appear in both moments of joy and sorrow
And they will become more powerful, more vivid, and string together in a way...that I don’t even know it

Schools Of Thought

2011-02-14T00:32:00.003-05:00

A few friends and I were discussing that if a Khalsa School opened up nearby that only enrolled Sikh students and had an equal standard of education as the other schools, would we send our children?

The obvious answer seemed to be...of course! Even if there was one hour each day that focused on Sikh History, Keertan or Gurmat, it would be way more than a weekly Sunday school or annual summer camp could accomplish.

Furthermore, with only Sikhs enrolled, I would imagine the instances of bullying due to the Sikh identity would be minimal. Seems like an easy choice, no?

Others in our group weren’t so sure. Some wondered how would going to an all-Sikh school prepare young Sikhs to enter high school, college, or even the workforce where the outlook would be much different. Would it be hard to adjust? Secondly, would going to Khalsa School tend to limit one's social circle to just Sikhs and perpetuate the idea of us being an “isolated” community? Would our children "miss out" on the learning from interaction with students from diverse backgrounds and cultures? And lastly, if we are each to be ambassadors of the amazing principles of Guru Nanak’s way of life, should we not go out of our way to make sure Sikhs are represented anywhere and everywhere? Shouldn’t we take pride with “standing out" in a crowd?”

What do you think?

Now I’ve never attended a Khalsa School or know many people who have. Perhaps our Canadian readers or our sangat from Delhi, Punjab, or elsewhere can share their experience.

Did you attend a Khalsa school and were glad you did?
Did you attend a Khalsa school and wish you didn’t?

A few weeks back, I saw a video that made me think of a third alternative.

To be honest, I don’t know anything about this particular Khalsa Montessori School, but the video brought a concept to life for me...what if there was an integrated Khalsa School that had such a high level of academic standards and a wonderful reputation that Sikhs and Non-Sikhs had to be on waiting lists to attend (like we often are for Catholic schools). What if everybody in the community knew that the Khalsa School was the “place to go” for your child to be in a positive and nurturing environment built on the foundations of Sikh principles – Equality, Justice, Activism, Compassion!

Sure sounds like a place I would want to ~~go to~~...I mean send my kids to :)

Every Breath

2011-02-11T15:46:00.000-05:00

For my first post of 2011, I’m reminded of a little over a month ago when we gathered with a group of families to ring in the New Year with Shabad Kirtan. After we offered an Ardaas, we all quietly sat to listen to the Guru’s hukam. For a brief moment I wondered how was Guru Sahib going to start off our year? What guidance would he offer us? Then the 4^th Nanak revealed his experience...

soohee mehalaa 4
har pehilarree laav paravirathee karam dhrirraaeiaa bal raam jeeo
baanee brehamaa vaedh dharam dhrirrahu paap thajaaeiaa bal raam jeeo
dharam dhrirrahu har naam dhiaavahu simrith naam dhrirraaeiaa
sathigur gur pooraa aaraadhahu sabh kilavikh paap gavaaeiaa
sehaj anandh hoaa vaddabhaagee man har har meethaa laaeiaa
jan kehai naanak laav pehilee aaranbh kaaj rachaaeiaa

Now I’ve heard enough vaiyakhia’s during Anand Karaj’s to know that the laavan does not speak to the marriage between man and woman, but instead speaks to the relationship between the Sikh and his/her Guru. But I must admit, with all the hoopla that surrounds a marriage, I’ve always found it tough to really focus on the laavan in that environment. But in this moment of calm, surrounded by my sangat, I was able to reflect. In my loosest of intepretations, Guru Sahib tells me:

In this first step of the journey, let your actions be inspired by the Divine

and daily duties be guided by Him

Embrace baani (the word), follow his path, and all negativity will fade away

Through his guidance, reflect on His name, always be absorbed in His light

Offer yourself to the perfect, true Guru and all negativity will be dispelled

By great fortune, peace and stability is attained...His name is so sweet

Servant Nanak says this is the first round, the journey has begun

On New Year's Day, where the rest of the world is celebrating the Earth’s circumambulation around the Sun, we instead are reminded of our circumambulation around the Guru. If we keep Him as the center of our life, the core of our journey, everything else in our lives will revolve around Him peacefully

So as I set my resolutions and plan out my goals for the year, I am reminded to lace all my actions with his qualities - forgiveness, compassion, humility...

And may I stay absorbed with his baani and always in simran, so that I feel his presence - not once a year, not even once a day...but with every breath.

Wavin' Flag

2010-12-31T00:58:00.001-05:00

It's tradition here...

On the morning of Guru Nanak Sahib's Gurpurab, shortly after the conclusion of Asa Ki Vaar, the entire sangat makes its way outside for a short nagar kirtan around the parking lot led by the Panj Pyaaray, concluding at the Nishaan Sahib.

After a short ardaas, sevadaars leap to the base of the Nishaan Sahib and hoist a beautiful new flag, replacing the weathered one, to the sounds of bellowing jakaaray.

I've seen it dozens of times
Sometimes I take it for granted
But this morning, I wanted to see it
And despite the cold, I wanted my children to stand with us and watch it too.

I wonder if other faiths celebrate their founder's birthday by hoisting a flag.

I don’t believe Guru Sahib created the order of the Khalsa for us to be mere spectators
Simply reciting prayers, sitting in sangat - then watch the rest of life go by

He did not create a religion for us...he created a way of life
He gave us his uniform and the inspiration to move mountains
He gave us this unique look and identity, not to isolate ourselves from society
But to provide us a sense of discipline and a code to live by
So we can in turn give back to humanity

To me, this Nishan Sahib means that we are to live a life bigger than ourselves
To serve a greater cause

Why did I stand out there to watch the flag being raised?
Because that greater cause often comes at a price.

There have been so many sacrifices...
Those who gave their tomorrow for our today
So we could live our lives...
With purpose

Often times we look back at our history and take such inspiration from the sacrifices
But rarely look any further

Sometimes I wonder...what was it?

What made the Chhotte Sahibzadey, a 7 and 9 year old, give their life before giving up their faith?
What drove Baba Deep Singh to march in to his final battle win the Afghans?
What made Bhai Mani Singh endure being cut limb by limb before renouncing his faith?
What made Bhai Taru Singh choose to be brutally tortured before giving up his Sikhi?

History tells us why they did it
But what motivated them?
What inspired them?
What gave them the courage?

I believe it is the Guru's Shabad that allowed them to live such extraordinary lives
And give their life in such extraordinary ways
To live and die with dignity
And empower ordinary people in the process

The Guru's Shabad...the Word...has given our people courage for over 500 years.

So how fitting we raise the flag on the day we remember Guru Nanak
Who revealed the word to the world.

I'm not sure what kept us out there in the cold watching the Nishaan Sahib flying high
But I couldn’t stop looking at it.
I wanted my children to see it
And hold that image close
So it stays etched in their minds forever

Who Speaks For You?

2010-12-31T00:37:00.000-05:00

In a recent news article, the SGPC has decided to respond to the many challenges Sikhs outside of Punjab face post-9/11 (better late than never, eh?). In particular, the issue of the “Turban ban” in France and the “Turban pat-downs” for air travelers in the US. How do they intend to address these issues? Creating and distributing brochures.

Brilliant!

The Tribune reports “The SGPC today decided to make foreigners aware of the Sikhism by facilitating literature in different foreign languages apart from raising the issue with the UNO and all embassies in New Delhi." SGPC President Avtar Singh Makkar said,

We have decided to provide a detailed information about the Sikh identity, history, culture and five Ks to foreigners in their country and in their own language…We will also send brochures about the Sikh identity to the UN Secretary-General and all embassies in New Delhi.

Although I’m pleased to see the SGPC finding ways to make itself relevant for the millions of Sikhs living outside of India, at the same time I hardly think brochures is the best approach. In a related story, the SGPC is considering appointing 10 representatives across the Diaspora to “deal with the problems being faced by the community abroad.” Essentially, giving Sikhs outside of India more of "a say."

A say in what? Who knows?

As I thought about these new initiatives from the SGPC, as well as researching their history a bit - I’m having trouble understanding the real purpose of this organization. On the one hand, the SGPC was created in the 1920’s to keep the British out of managing Gurwdaras. And in the process of reclaiming these Gurdwaras, they (along with the Singh Sabhias) ousted mahants and non-Sikh practices out of the Gurdwaras. In addition to managing historical Gurdwaras, the SGPC also runs several educational institutions. However, the SGPC is also referred to as the “mini-parliament” of the Sikhs, as it states on it’s website. which to me is a completely different set of goals. This implies that they are the representatives and decision makers on behalf of Sikhs all over the world. Is this really the case?

So what is the relevance of the SGPC in 2011?

Do we really need the SGPC to speak on behalf of those of us living outside of India?

Do they have the resources or the influence to speak to our issues? Or should we leave these matters to the civil and human rights organizations who have the skills and experience to be effective (Sikh Coalition, SALDEF, United Sikhs etc.)

And if the SGPC finds itself with loads of time on their hands, why not get back to some of its roots and reclaim some of the Gurdwaras that have fallen in to the hands of modern-day mahants and rid the non-Sikh practices we are seeing today? Are all Gurdwaras the SGPC is managing today falling inline with the Rehat Marayada? The same document they coordinated and rubber-stamped years ago?

Maybe they can use their resources to address issues in their own backyard, like holding granthis and parcharaks to a certain standard rather than leaving it up to the Babas to promote Sikhi. Or perhaps they could lean toward charity work and support efforts to address female feticide, drug abuse, farmer suicide, Punjab’s water crisis…take your pick!

My opinion...we’ll make our own brochures, thank you.

What’s yours?

Hemming My Blessings

2010-12-30T23:57:00.000-05:00

Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa
Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh!

“Hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don’t unravel.” - Author Unknown

With the Guru’s grace, Spirit of the Sikh has completed its second year.

I want to take a moment to thank all of you who continue to read and comment on the blog, even though my posts have been fewer and further apart than the previous year.

I was very happy to see a lot more comments and dialogue. I hope to see more of this in the year to come and I plan to be more disciplined in responding to all comments in a timely manner and facilitating the discussions further. Often times the comments raise more profound points than the original post themselves...I look forward to hearing more of your views.

Some of you mentioned you would like to start your own blog to document your experiences and stories, but are hesitant to start or afraid you will not be able to maintain it. Consider this an open invitation to send me your pieces as a guest blogger here on Spirit of the Sikh so we can share your thoughts with this small yet insightful group of readers.

As we move in to year three, I again hope to write a little more poetry (a failed promise from last year) and share some reflections on Baani to align with some of my personal goals...Why reflections on Baani?

To keep the flame lit.

I’ll close with Prof. Puran Singh, who explains so eloquently in his book (and the blog’s namesake) Spirit of the Sikh...

If you know Him, how can you forget Him? Keep the flame alive. I leave it to you what shall be the needs of the moment - within you. You alone shall know how to keep the light of Nam burning, your heart is the shrine; the lamp of Nam is lit and it burns therein. And in the background He stands. You are the priest of that sacred shine. There is silence lit by Nam. There is the song lit by silence. You have to pour oil, you have to trim the wick and you have to keep it burning.

Lahir 2010 Tri-State: Save Punjab. Save Ourselves.

2010-11-11T00:21:00.000-05:00

In the 1920’s and 1930’s, America witnessed a cultural movement in the heart of New York City. The Harlem Renaissance brought a fresh wave of music, theatre, poetry, art and intellectual thought to the fore. This movement gave birth to the likes of Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Countee Cullen, Duke Ellington and many others who are now respected as pioneers of their genre. The Harlem Renaissance brought more than just a new style of entertainment...it put the black experience on the map – and uplifted a race that was in transition with its place in America.

On November 20 - in a stone’s throw away from Harlem - musicians, poets, and artists will gather to put the Sikh experience on the map.

After a successful event in the Tri-State area last year focusing on remembrance and inspiration from the events of 1984, the Lahir team has assembled once again for “Save Punjab. Save Ourselves.” This year’s focus is on issues affecting rural Punjab - such as farmer suicide, female infanticide, drug abuse, disease, and poverty.

I’m particularly impressed with the connection that organizers and performers have with issues affecting Punjab, many of whom were born here in the US, but as dozens of news reports filtered in over the past year speaking to the dire social, economic, and environmental situation in rural Punjab, it is evident that Sikh youth across North America will not remain silent. The bond Sikh youth feel with the land of our ancestors and history runs deep. Still the home of nearly 20 million Sikhs, any issue affecting our brothers and sisters in Punjab, affects Sikhs all over the world.

In attending previous Lahir events, I’ve enjoyed the performances by our well-known artists, but I’ve been most inspired by those poets and musicians who take to the stage for the first time. With nervousness in their voice and passion in their eyes, they pour their soul in to the mic, unearthing masterpieces hidden in journals for years...that’s what I look forward to the most. I hope to see many of these first-timers represent next Saturday

Some may ask, what does an evening of music and poetry bring to the cause? Does it really create change? I know for myself music and poetry have made me aware and feel issues that I never would have connected to any other way. K’Naan’s music has exposed me to life in Mogadishu amidst the Somali Civil war, Suheir Hammad’s poetry gives me a glimpse of life growing up in a family of Palestinian refugees. These are experiences you will not learn from news bytes on CNN. They shape my thinking, and my thinking (hopefully) leads to action.

Some questioned the impact of the Harlem Renaissance, while others felt it laid the framework for the Civil Rights movement. Will the Lahir movement and similar initiatives lead us toward bigger things to move the Panth forward? Only time will tell. But I know how I felt after an evening of listening to my brothers and sisters bring their talents to the mic - all while united in a cause...it feels like anything is possible.

Lahir: Move the Movment – Save Punjab. Save Ourselves.

Saturday, November 20, 2010 @ 6pm

NJIT (150 Bleeker St. Newark, NJ) Campus Center Ballroom, 2fl

www.lahir.info

movethemovement@gmail.com

Half The Panth

2010-10-25T00:46:00.002-04:00

It seems to happen at every camp...

Somewhere around the last day or two, the older boys have an evening discussion about girls keeping their Sikhi saroop (not trimming, shaving, plucking etc.) and talk about whether or not they would marry a girl who kept their saroop intact. There's always a couple vocal boys who proudly stand behind their sisters and vow they would only marry a girl who kept all their kesh, while other boys are equally opposed, as it makes them uncomfortable. However, the majority seem to be indifferent - as there are many things they look for in finding a mate - self-confidence, physical attraction, that "spark"...and whether or not she chooses to remove her body hair or not really doesn’t matter. Everyone generally falls in to one of these categories - then the discussion ends, and everybody goes on their merry way. It's funny…I've sat through this discussion decades ago as a camper…and it hasn’t really evolved much.

So I started thinking...what is it like to be a young girl who's been raised to keep her kesh (all her kesh) and comes to camp only to find out that she's in the minority? It must be pretty confusing considering she was taught that this is something that Sikh girls do.

I know for me, camp was an opportunity to be around people with similar upbringings, who looked like me and shared my challenges…it was my opportunity once a year to not feel "different." How must it feel to be that girl who still has to explain herself to the other Sikhs? Perhaps she may find herself more comfortable with her school friends - after all, around them she knows she's supposed to be different.

In my most simplistic way of looking at Sikhi, I believe that Guru Sahib would not have asked anything of his son that he would not have asked of his daughter. Keep in mind, this is the same Guru who fought alongside Mai Bhago in the Battle of Mukatsar. And if Sikh men are "expected" to keep their kesh and the rest of the Sikh uniform even prior to taking Amrit - why wouldn’t the same be expected of Sikh women?

How and when did this disparity occur? Is there question over whether Sikh women kept their saroop during the Guru's times? Is there a debate to be had over whether Sikh women are supposed to keep all their kesh in the first place? Is this simply the result of Western, Punjabi, or other cultural influences on our identity?

Or is this just a matter of us everyday Sikhs needing to re-align our perception of beauty to that of the Guru's?

I don’t claim to know the answers, but I do feel the discussion needs to emerge from the isolated camp dorm rooms and be brought out in the open.

In my conversations with women who keep their Sikhi saroop or wear Dastaars, I'm alarmed to find that many receive more support from non-Sikh friends and instead have been discouraged by their Sikh peers and elders.

Truth is...this isn't really just about kesh

It is about the rigid gender discrimination within the Sikh community.

It is about our inability to create an effective support structure for young women in the same way we do with young boys.

This to me is not a trivial matter. As the Chinese proverb goes, women hold up the "half the sky", and I believe that Sikh women - our daughters, sisters, mothers, grand-mothers, and great-grand-mothers - hold up half the panth.

And if we as a community are unable to support and encourage Sikh women who choose to make commitments toward the Guru - then we as a community have a lot of self-reflecting to do.

I believe through baani Guru Sahib has given us the ability to empower ourselves, so I implore these women, who adorn the Guru's uniform not to feel discouraged, but instead see themselves as torchbearers, reviving Sikh tradition in the footsteps of Mata Sahib Kaur.

That said, I also believe that Guru Sahib has designed the saadh sangat with the sole purpose of uplifting one another along this path...and help carry us through difficult times. Where is the saadh sangat now?

At the end of this particular camp, during the final deevan...the staff recognized two boys who recently started keeping their kesh. As they walked up to the stage, showered with jakaaray - I couldn’t help but get a bit choked up. I've always admired these brave Sikhs who fall in love with the Guru, and want to embrace his image. And immediately after, a staff member announced that one of the girls, who chose to remain anonymous, also decided to become "Saabat Soorat", a term I have never heard before referring to a girl. This is the first time I witnessed a young woman being recognized for keeping all her kesh, and I was particularly proud of how quickly the jakaaray filled the air yet again...led completely by the boys.

Perhaps that inspiring moment was only symbolic, who knows if it actually leads to change...

But given where we are as a community...even this is progress.

Inni Kaur's Journey With The Gurus

2010-10-13T23:35:00.000-04:00

JOURNEY WITH THE GURUS, by Inni Kaur. Illustrated by Pardeep Singh, Edited by Manjyot Kaur. Sikh Educational & Cultural Foundation, Norwalk, CT, U.S.A., 2010. Fulll-page color illustrations, hardover, pp 172, $28.95. ISBN # 978-0-9827224-0-4.

REVIEW

I've always been a history buff...a Sikh history buff, that is!

I would take every opportunity I could to listen to a saakhi about our rich history. But as a child growing up in the US, I rarely found books that could truly reflect the wonder and beauty of the Gurus' lives. The history books I read were published in the early 70's, and although now I can appreciate what hard work it must have taken to translate Sikh history for children into a foreign language - at the time, I had no interest in reading these books. The stories were hard to understand, the dialogue seemed unrealistic, and for whatever reason...they didn't speak to me.

Inni Kaur's Journey with the Gurus is a series of short stories about Guru Nanak's life, followed by discussion points where the author suggests ideas and principles to emphasize while reading with your child.

I've been blessed with an opportunity to preview Journey with the Gurus along with my family, and I can say for all of us...this is a book that speaks to us!

It only took me a couple of stories for me to notice what was different about this book. Although the major events in these short stories have been told for centuries, the author however transports us to the time of the Guru, and lets us into the dialogue in between these events, as though we were sitting as witnesses, watching history unfold.

For example, we all know the saakhi where young Nanak refused to wear the Hindu janeu - a string band worn diagonally by Brahmins from the shoulder down - but what was going through his mind that morning while family and friends were gathering for the event to initiate him into the janeu?

We know the saakhi of Guru Nanak's disappearance for three days in the River Bein, but what were the locals thinking during those three days? How did Bebe Nanaki feel? Where did Bhai Mardana think his friend had gone?

And what was the mood like that early morning when Guru Sahib and Bhai Mardana left for their first udaasi (great journey)?

Journey with the Gurus takes us there and let's us experience history.

These stories introduce me to personalities I had heard of but never fully appreciated - the chief of Talwandi, Rai Bular; the Governor of Sultanpur, Nawab Daulat Khan Lodhi; and the close friendship Guru Nanak had with his brother-in-law, Jairam.

But of all these relationships, it was the one with his older sister, Bebe Nanaki, that I connected with the most. I've always heard that Guru Sahib and Bebe Nanaki were very close and she was a supporting and loving sister. And as per tradition, she is proudly known as the first Sikh of the Guru, but as much as she was an influence in his life, very little is written about her.

Journey with the Gurus does justice to this very special relationship by including her throughout the entire book. I especially enjoyed the dialogue they shared shortly after Guru Sahib came to stay with Nanaki and Jairam in Sultanpur, reminiscing about their childhood:

"Vir, do you remember the hopscotch game we always played?"
"Hopscotch game?" asked Jairam.
"Bhraa ji, you don't want to know all the things that she made me do. And to top it off, she always won at hopscotch," said Nanak, laughing and shaking his head.

In another conversation, Nanaki expresses concern over Guru Sahib going to the river by himself early in the mornings. After Jairam kindly suggests that Nanak should decide these things for himself, she replies:

"Yes, dearest, you are right. I sometimes forget that my little brother is all grown up now."

It was amazing to hear Guru Sahib and Bebe Nanaki interact in a way that a younger brother and protective older sister typically would...something so many of us can relate to.

There were some other subtle messages I found quite powerful. Like when Lakhmi Das was born, Guru Nanak and Mata Sulakhani ji's second child, the author mentions how "Sulakhani's parents came as quickly as they could to see their new grandson." And how Mehta Kalu ji speaks so gently about his daughter-in-law, referring to her as a "kind and loving wife", and Mata Tripta ji chiming in: "I am so glad to see that Sulakhani is looking after her children very well."

I found the tone of these conversations refreshing and quite different from what I've read before or would have expected, given the cultural norms of the time.

Some may feel that Inni Kaur has taken some creative liberty with these stories, and may ask, "How do we know this all really happened?" To that, my response would be, "How do we know it did not?"

The major events in the stories have been retold in a creative way in modern language, but the facts as we traditionally know them are still intact. As for all the dialogue in between, I wonder why wouldn't Guru Sahib and Bebe Nanaki converse like any other brother and sister would? Why wouldn't Jairam facilitate Guru Sahib's move to Sultanpur to help his in-laws out, and re-unite his wife with her brother? And why wouldn't Mehta Kalu ji and Mata Tripta ji admire their daughter-in-law for being a good wife and mother?

I mean...Guru Sahib was such a progressive thinker and way ahead of his time; he preached equality, kindness, compassion - and influenced the masses by doing so - why couldn't such conversations take place?

Reading such a different perspective to these saakhis is like reading Sikh history for the first time. I'm glad to see the book is labeled "Volume One", because I can't wait to read the discourse between Guru Nanak and Bhai Lehna, or the conversations between Bhai Gurdas and Guru Arjan on the bank of Ramsar while scribing the Guru Granth Sahib.

And, of course, the precious dialogue between Mata Gujri ji and her four grandsons.

What I appreciate most about this book is how engaged our children were while reading it - whether it was the beautiful illustrations that kept our little ones sneaking a peek into the next page or the discussions we had afterwards that would go on past bedtime.

It was that little personal connection they created with Guru Nanak that I found so special.

And for that, I am truly grateful.

Thank you, Inni Kaur, for introducing us to the simple unfolding of our beautiful history. My children and I hungrily look forward to the next volume so we can continue our Journey with the Gurus...

Watch the Homepage of sikhchic.com for the book-launch on October 15, 2010.

Who Am I?

2010-10-05T00:13:00.000-04:00

This summer at a local gurmat camp, I ran a workshop called "Who Am I?"

It consists of a role-playing exercise where I play the ignorant passerby asking the kids about who they are and what Sikhi is all about. The goal of this workshop is to come up with our own "elevator pitch" - concise yet thoughtful answers to some of the most common questions we're asked.

No matter how many times I've facilitated this workshop, I'm always amazed at how little the campers are able to answer about very basic questions on Sikhi and Sikh practices. It doesn't even matter what kind of camp - from those that follow the Rehat Maryada closely to those who do not - the results are much the same.

In one camp, when the kids were being particularly unresponsive, I veered off my lesson plan of "How we explain our Sikhi to Non-Sikhs", and instead started asking the group of 15-17 years olds about themselves.

What kept them as Sikhs?
What made them want to follow the Guru's path?
Why did they keep their Kesh and Sikhi identity?

Surprisingly, there were still few answers. In every group, there's always one or two who raise their hands and say all the "right things" and perhaps one or two brave souls who object and say, for example, that keeping their kesh is no longer necessary, and, for that matter, neither is organized religion. Even this perspective I respect because at least they are thinking, reasoning, and vocalizing their opinions. I'm not really concerned about either end of this spectrum, but what does worry me is the vast majority in the middle who appear to be, well...indifferent.

Out of a little frustration, I finally picked one kid in the back - a fifteen year old boy wearing a patka and asked him directly: "Tell me, why do you keep your kesh?"

After a short pause, he looked back at me and said, "To be honest, I really have no idea."

I feel my parent's generation did the best they could raising Sikh youth in a land and culture different than their own. As a child growing up on the East Coast of the U.S., I was blessed with opportunities to go to Sikh camps. I loved going to camp and being around people who looked like me and shared my struggles. I have fond memories of gathering around the camp fire with all my friends and shouting jakaaray until we lost our voices - I was inspired...but I'm not sure why.

I grew up participating in kirtan competitions, speech competitions, paatth competitions, and I constantly had the company of Sikh friends, but even in all this...there was still something missing.

Sometimes I look back at all the people I competed with in kirtan competitions, and those who shouted jakaaray along with me at camp...most of them aren't Sikhs anymore. Perhaps they felt something missing too.

As many of us grow out of adolescence - start to think for ourselves and get exposed to ideas, opinions, and thoughts that we never knew existed - our beliefs get challenged, and it takes a little more than jakaaray and first place trophies to keep us rooted in our Sikhi. Much of that external stuff eventually fades away, and we're forced to look within.

Although the cause of our current state is still a bit elusive to me, the solution however, is crystal clear. Whereas my training in Sikhi was largely external - keep your kesh, be proud of your history, and one day you may grow up into a Sikh who reads and reflects on gurbani - essentially, growing Sikhi "outside-in."

I believe the answer is to start with bani - day one, and grow Sikhi "inside out."

I'm convinced that fostering a gurbani-based environment at our camps, Khalsa schools, Sikh Student Associations, and, most importantly, our homes, is the best way to engage with the next generation of Sikhs, so that they can individually and collectively create connections with the Guru.

So maybe this means that the SSA substitutes one if it's monthly meetings for Gurbani Vichaar, or our camps and Khalsa schools build their lesson plans on reflective exercises around a shabad, and perhaps as we put our sons and daughters to bed every night, we help them find strength and courage in a shabad in the same way they do with a saakhi.

By cultivating that inner relationship with the Guru - through shabad, simran and reflection - I believe the external aspects of Sikhi will fall into place. We will then always be fulfilled and our questions will always be answered.

A friend once said to me, if we want to see our reflection in the lake, the water must first be still.

May Guru Sahib bring that stillness in our lives, so that we can realize who we really are.

Save The Gurdwara

2010-07-26T01:25:00.002-04:00

I’ll admit...when I first saw emails and facebook posts titled “Save The Gurdwara”, I immediately dismissed it, thinking it was yet another mismanaged Gurdwara falling in to bankruptcy or one group trying to overthrow another. But after I read the website and confirmed some of the details with contacts in Austin, I was shocked by what had occurred.

By now most of you know that in 2007, the city of Austin, Texas approved the building of a permanent Gurdwara on land the Sikh community had purchased back in 2003 and where they’ve since been having regular weekly services in a makeshift home. Shortly after construction began, a couple who recently moved nearby the Gurdwara (the Bollier’s), filed an injunction to block construction on the grounds that it would be an eye-sore, increase traffic, and lower property value. In March 2009, a district court denied the couple’s injunction in favor of the Austin Sikh community and construction of the Gurdwara was allowed to proceed. Unfortunately, this victory would be short-lived. Sixteen months after the original victory and construction now complete, an appeals court has overturned the lower court’s ruling and has ordered the entire structure to be torn down – needless to say, the Austin Sikh community is devastated!

As many of us would, I immediately thought this was a blatant act of racism, but as I read the website several times, I noticed there is no accusation of this being racially-motivated. I applaud the Austin sangat for taking the “high road” and not pulling the race card until there is clear evidence of racism or bigotry, but I must say...it sure does smell like it! I mean, “Lower their property’s value?”…really?

Somewhere in all the disappointment and frustration of this situation, I am still impressed with how Sikhs manage to come together in a time of need. Emails are circulating through all the networks, people are dedicating their facebook pictures and statuses to the “Save the Gurdwara” movement, and some of our talented MC’s have written songs to help rally and inspire the community.

I appreciate how the Austin Sikh community has managed to re-group and pull themselves together after this upsetting news. Rather than being reactive, or publicly lashing out – they have instead decided to step back and collect funds. It is through these funds they can assemble a professional legal team that can best represent them in what is likely to be a long and ugly court battle. This is a very proactive and strategic approach, as I’ve seen other communities in similar situations only appeal for funds once the community is bankrupt and already begun to compromise the quality of their legal effort.

In a time where “ethnopphobia” is running rampant through politics and political discourse, it very likely this case will gain media attention throughout the state of Texas, and possibly the national stage. So in this relative calm before the storm, I think we must pause and ask ourselves...what would Guru Sahib do? How would he guide us? What does Baani tell us? What examples from the Guru’s life history can we reference?

One thing that always fascinated me about the sakhis of Guru Nanak was the way in which he influenced others. He did not use physical might, but chose words instead. But even more than his words, it was the love in which he expressed them, it was his uncanny ability to relate and connect with people from all walks of life. He had a personality and a “fragrance” about him that made people want to follow.

We now have an opportunity to share the Guru’s radiance.

We have an opportunity to show the world exactly who Sikhs are and how wonderful it would be to live near such a loving, compassionate, and socially active community.

I have faith that cooler heads will prevail. Let’s not forget, it was the Texas Board of Education who recently voted to include information on Sikhs and Sikh practices in the state-mandated curriculum for public school students.

The Austin Sikh community must be assured that the 25 million Sikhs all over the world stand behind them in solidarity. That said, the financial responsibility for this case should not fall on their shoulders alone...this is our fight...and I encourage everyone reading this to make their donation at http://www.savegurdwara.com/.

I’m sure that if we not lose sight of what this is all for, and keep the Guru as our guide – with His grace – the Sikhs of Austin will open the doors of its new Gurdwara to the public soon, and welcome the whole community with open arms to celebrate...even the Bollier’s.

Good PR

2010-07-05T15:12:00.000-04:00

Many years ago, I attended a demonstration where thousands of Sikhs gathered in the city. Onlookers were curious as to who we were and why we had gathered. As I was handing out information pamphlets, a passerby approached me, took one of the pamphlets, quickly looked it over and in a thick British accent said, “Ah yes...Sikhs! Wonderful religion...wonderful people...brave soldiers...” Then he leaned over to whisper something in my ear and said “...but whoever handles your public relations sucks!”

As I see patterns and trends on the way Sikhs are portrayed in the media, that incident always comes to mind. Seeing how positive acts from Sikh individuals rarely mention the word “Sikh” yet negative acts from Sikh individuals turn in to an “exposé” of our community, I started to wonder how non-Sikhs were learning about us and what can we do to proactively present a more accurate image.

Here in North America, our approach to public relations and education is largely reactionary. After a violent event at a Gurdwara, we explain to the public how Sikhs are not violent. After September 11th, we explained how we’re not terrorists. It seems we spend more time explaining who we’re not rather than who we are.

There are some positive efforts as well. Traditionally, many Sikh communities flood the interfaith networks as a means of outreach. I’ve participated in many interfaith events over the years, and although it may be beneficial for relationship building and dialogue, its impact on educating large parts of society over time is debatable.

In the past few months, somewhere in the plethora of press release emails I receive from Sikh organizations, I learned of two significant initiatives by the Sikh Coalition that seemed to pass quietly without much fanfare.

On May 21, the Texas Board of Education voted to include information on Sikhs and Sikh practices in the state-mandated curriculum for public school students. This is the first time Sikhs or Sikhi has ever before been included in a state-wide curriculum. Convincing a fairly conservative state like Texas to incorporate Sikhs in to their curriculum is an impressive feat in itself, but even more encouraging is how influential Texas is for textbook manufacturers. The Sikh Coalition press release states:

Experts estimate that the decisions made by the Texas Board of Education affect the textbooks used in 46 other states because it is one of the largest purchasers of textbooks in the nation.

This accomplishment shows that by being proactive and working at a grassroots level to mobilize the local community, establish strategic partnerships, take a professional and systematic approach, and patiently work through the process – people will listen and policies will change. This is a major achievement – what better way to educate people on Sikhs and Sikhi than through the school system?

Another impressive initiative is the Sikh Coalition Presenter’s Course that was launched this past February in New York City. After a rigorous application and interview process, 15 students are selected to participate in an intensive 3 day training course led by a public speaking expert and Sikh Coalition staff members. Those who complete the course and pass their evaluation become certified Sikh Coalition presenters. In addition to public speaking skills, presenters are trained to deliver a standard presentation on Sikhi that has been reviewed, discussed, and vetted at length. Certified presenters must make 2 public presentations a year to maintain their credential and are regularly provided updates as materials are revised. Rather than re-inventing the wheel every time a presentation is needed, now one community can have several resources prepared with a standard presentation and consistent message. Imagine having 15 people in your community who can respond to any incident at a school or workplace with such a presentation, or better yet, proactively seek out opportunities to educate! Check out the YouTube video to learn more about the course. Other cities have already inquired on how the presenter’s course can be brought to their community.

You might ask – why is education so important? Sikhs have settled here for over a hundred years with our identity intact, Sikhs have been elected to public office and hold senior corporate positions, why waste the resources? Or as some commenters have challenged me in previous posts, “who cares what the goray think of us?” That attitude might be okay for some people...not for me.

As long as Sikh passengers are being profiled, Sikh kids are being bullied, and Sikh taxi drivers are being attacked...then we have a job to do. And even then, I don’t want my children and grandchildren to simply “settle” here in the US and still be looked at as foreigners. I want Sikhs to have a voice and be recognized as the law-abiding citizens and the community activists we are. I’d like us to be viewed as a powerful and influential community who must have a “seat at the table” in policy decisions. Unless people know who we are, what we’re about, and what we stand for, how can we expect to be heard and have our issues addressed? All of this requires us to shift our paradigm when it comes to education and congratulations to the Sikh Coalition for taking the lead and being proactive!

Now what can you do? In addition to bringing the presenter’s course to your community, what changes can you make at your local Gurdwara? Gurdwaras are still a good place for education and outreach. What about the creating a “Welcoming Committee” that prepares materials for non-Sikh visitors, facilitates organized tours, and perhaps invites community groups and neighbors to visit the Gurdwara? What if this committee organized charity or social events for their local surrounding community to participate in? Anybody have any other tangible ideas to share?

A Tragic Loss

2010-06-28T22:57:00.001-04:00

Here on Spirit Of The Sikh, we’ve recognized accomplished Sikhs who have excelled in their field, and by doing so - presented a positive image of Sikhs and the Sikh way of life – academics, athletes, politicians, artists, the list goes on and on. Often unnoticed though are everyday people, who build individual relationships with those in their community, and spread a spirit of goodwill through their kindness and generosity. Unfortunately I learned of this gentle soul, Prabhjot Singh, too late. May Waheguru always be with him and strengthen his family while overcoming this terrible loss.

The video appears to be having difficulties. Here's a news report of the tragedy:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/06/17/AR2010061706402.html

Also, here's an update on the arrest of the two suspects:
http://www.wjla.com/news/stories/0610/749381.html

Sharing The Guru's Gift

2010-04-28T21:30:00.002-04:00

A few weeks back, we attended our first Sikh Parade of the season.

Like every year, we love making the trip downtown to join our sangat and spend a beautiful spring day outside celebrating Vaisakhi. Amongst the sea of kesri dastaars and chunnis, there was keertan, gatka, and jakaaray filling the streets.

As we began marching down the main avenue, I started to notice the passerby’s reaction to us. Some were irritated they had to wait for us to cross the street, some took out their camera phones to take pictures of us, but the vast majority looked, well...confused.

And who can blame them?

None of our floats and few of our signs would make any sense to a non-Sikh. The overlapping keertan, jakaaray, and political slogans were obviously all in Punjabi. And there was little to no interaction between us and the onlookers. I wondered, why did we come here to do this?

If our purpose was to have a nagar keertan and to celebrate Vaisakhi in our own traditional way, then why waste the time and money to do it out here? Why not just do this on our own Gurdwara premises? But if our purpose was to educate the greater community on who Sikhs are, then what exactly were we doing to accomplish that? Sure, many people were taking pictures of us, but was it because of the spectacle we created? Or because people were so happy to see the Sikhs that they’ve heard so much about – followers of Guru Nanak, brave soldiers, and defenders of the downtrodden? Which do you think?

If we were so interested in educating others about us, perhaps we could have delegated volunteers to walk through the sidewalks handing out information cards (no bigger than an index card), explaining who we are and what we’re celebrating...or at least hand out free water bottles with labels reading “Happy Vaisakhi from the Sikh Community” and maybe they’d be encouraged to learn more about us later. Given the recent news regarding Sikhs in the US and Canada, we could really use all the positive PR we can get. And since we’re already here marching through a major metropolitan society, why not take advantage of it?

As the parade went on, I started to grow more frustrated. I kept thinking, Sikhs have been in the US for over 100 years, is this really the best we can do?

Toward the end of the parade, as we all congregated at the park to listen to shabad keertan and speeches, a young couple riding bikes passed through. Since it is common for festivals to occur during this time of year in the city, the couple decided to stop and check out what was going on. They parked their bikes and sat right behind us to take in the sights and sounds. After observing the crowd, interacting with our kids for a bit, and seeing folks come back from the langar tent with plates full of hot food, the woman got up and said to the man, “Looks like there’s food over there, I’m going to get something to eat.” The man replied, “Do you have any money on you?” My wife then kindly interrupted and said “You won’t need it, it’s our free community kitchen...it’s called langar.” The woman smiled and said “Well that’s nice” and made her way to the langar tent.

Somewhere in all my cynicism, I lost sight of why we were there. We were there that day to celebrate the Guru and his gifts. And in all of Guru Sahib’s brilliance, his gift of langar is still finding ways to bring people of all races, religions, cultures, socio-economic groups, and beliefs together to share a common meal.

I looked around...I saw how efficiently the sevadaars were managing the langar line. For a moment, I thought about all the men and women who woke up early that morning to make food for hundreds of people. I noticed all the humble volunteers who swiftly filled everyone’s plate with a smile on their face. Then I saw all the sevadaars who were quickly picking up the trash and recyclables and disposing of them properly, leaving the park spotless!

If I looked close enough – there was love, service, and humility all around us – and if this is what passersby learn about Sikhs, then all is not lost. In fact, this is the essence of who we are...and no pamphlet is going to show you that.

There is a lesson to be learned here...even outside of just our parades. So often we try to find creative ways to explain to non-Sikhs exactly who Guru Nanak’s Sikhs are, when sometimes, all we need to do...is show them the Guru Nanak in us.

Where I Belong

2010-04-18T23:52:00.001-04:00

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.

There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.

You feel it, don't you?

You feel the separation from the Beloved.

Invite Him to fill you up, embrace the fire.

(Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī )

I love this time of the year.

The harsh east coast winter is now a distant memory, flowers are blossoming all around, and the warmth of the sunlight on my face is revitalizing.

My community is rejuvenated as well.

Our gurdwara is busily preparing for Vaisakhi celebrations - nagar kirtans, gatka demonstrations, and special kirtan programs are all in the works.

But out of all the celebrations, festivities and ceremonies to come, there is one that often goes quietly unnoticed, yet holds a special place in my heart - the annual amrit sanchar. Week after week, announcements are made for aspiring Sikhs of the Guru to sign up and be ready to "offer their head."

It is always inspiring to see members of my sangat prepare for this special day. Seeing all of this reminds me of my own experience.

Although I grew up with many Sikh friends, none of them were amritdhari, so learning about the discipline and lifestyle of an amrithdhari at camps was fascinating to me. I used to think how cool it would be to join the Order of the Khalsa...the Guru's army! At the same time, the whole process and experience was a bit of a mystery to me.

So when I reached adolescence and started going to camps with amritdhari counselors and attending retreats with amritdhari Sikhs my age from all over the world, I was overwhelmed. I couldn't wait until the classes and lectures were over, just so I could sit and talk with folks and learn about their experiences. I tried to absorb as much as I could.

I would ask all kinds of questions...What inspired you to take amrit? What was it like? How did you prepare? When did you know you were ready? Has it been difficult to maintain your rehat? Have you ever had second thoughts about your decision?

The answers I got varied...which shows how unique everybody's individual experience is. There were some who took this step because they had a deep connection with the shabad, others were encouraged by their friends and had been "practicing" for years. Then there some whose family members were all amritdhari, so it was just "expected"...they really didn't know any other way. Then there were others who simply had a "revelation" and walked into the amrit sanchar clean-shaven and have kept their rehat ever since.

Many I spoke to felt they had a void in their life...I remember one response vividly in a group discussion that I really connected with. When a young man was asked why he was going to take amrit the next morning, he said: "With the Guru by my side, I know I will never be alone."

Some might argue that there are right or wrong reasons to take this step...personally, I do not. I mean, no matter what your circumstances are, if your answer is to bring the Guru in to your life...does it really matter how you got there?

Sometimes the questions I asked about amrit provoked hour-long answers laced with bani, history, and personal experience...others were brief. I recall one person stopping me mid-way through my first question and answering everything with three simple words..."Chhakko, hor ki?"

During that inquisitive time in my life, I learned so much. I surrounded myself with such inspiring people and stories, I took advantage of every opportunity I could and tried so hard to learn, connect, reflect and experience. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I was a "seeker." During this time, it became harder and harder to sit in a divaan and listen to kirtan. Just about every time I heard a shabad, it brought me to tears, it was like Guru Sahib was speaking directly to me...asking me, that if I love him so much...why do I not commit to him?

It was a combination of these dialogues, experiences with my sangat, and personal reflection that led me to finally formalize my commitment and receive the Guru's amrit.

In all the congratulatory calls and emails that came to follow, I remember one friend saying something to me that stuck in my head for weeks. She said, "Be careful, although your spirit may be very high right now, somewhere in the next few months, the emotion of the event will eventually lessen and you might even hit a slump."

I couldn't imagine such a thing happening, I felt as though I was on top of the world...but sure enough, I did. After a while, I found my paatth becoming more of a ritual...something I had to squeeze into my busy schedule rather than something I enjoyed and focused on. Sometimes I would close my gutka and not even remember if I had finished the baani or not. My amrit vela discipline slowly faded away and, after time, I struggled just to meet the "bare minimum" the rehat had asked of me.

For whatever reason, I didn't feel that same "thirst" as I did prior to receiving amrit. I was purely focused on keeping my rehat and not on connecting with Waheguru. Perhaps I set my expectations too high of what life as an amritdhari would be like, maybe I was not as ready as I thought I was...or maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough. Perhaps there was a part of me that grew complacent being an amritdhari, as though I had "accomplished" something...and there was no need to "seek" any further.

Many years have passed, and although I still haven't matched the inspiration and strength I felt in those "inquisitive years", there have, however, been moments of absolute beauty. Every so often, as I race through my daily nitnem, I'll connect with a line that touches my soul. At random kirtans, I'll hear a shabad I have translated and studied before, and I will completely lose myself in it. At times, I will listen to a child recite the Mool Mantar or sing a shabad, and I'll feel the presence of the Sahibzadey around me...my eyes will well up in tears.

These experiences may be short...but I thank Waheguru for them. I pray that these "beautiful moments" will happen more frequently and string together for longer periods of time.

I now realize that receiving the Guru's amrit is not a "graduation" or really an accomplishment of any kind ... It is only a beginning. It's when a Sikh stands before the Guru and declares, "I am yours..." and the Guru lovingly replies, "...and you are mine", and everything else begins from there.

In my effort to rekindle my spirit, I have again begun asking questions.

Last April, I was chatting with a college student several years younger than me who had just received amrit a few weeks earlier. I was particularly intrigued by him as he had recently started keeping his kesh too. When I asked what inspired him to take this step, he looked at me and paused for a moment. I waited eagerly to hear his story and his experience, but instead he gave me a simple answer I will never forget.

He said, "Veerji...I'm a soldier...and this is where I belong."

For a moment, I began to think of all the soldiers who came before him. I thought about the fearlessness of Banda Singh Bahadar in the conquest of Sirhind, I thought about the bravery of Mai Bhago in the battle of Mukatsar, I thought about the courage of Baba Deep Singh in his battles with Ahmed Shah Abdali. I thought about all the countless warriors and warrior-poets who came to follow...all of whom knelt before the Guru and received his embrace.

I'm so far from all these personalities.

There is so much to learn...there are so many questions.

But one thing I do know for sure.

This is where I belong too.

It Takes A Sangat

2010-04-14T23:50:00.001-04:00

A few years back, I went to my first Charni Lagna ceremony. Charni Lagna – literally, “at the feet of the Guru” is the traditional name of the event where a Sikh formally begins reading from the Guru Granth Sahib.

Like most Sikh ceremonies, it is actually quite simple. After shabad kirtan is recited, an ardaas is offered for the young (or old) Sikh who is beginning their journey with the Guru – then finally, he or she will read the hukamnama.

The ceremony I attended was for an 11-year old girl, who was very excited and worked hard to prepare for this day. After a few shabads were sung by the local jatha and the girl’s friends – one by one, members of the sangat came to say a few words of encouragement. One of her friends was around the same age and similarly went through this ceremony a year prior. She spoke about her own experience reading from the Guru Granth Sahib on a daily basis and how it has changed her life. Then one of her friends who had yet to take this step spoke of how she was inspired to do so soon. Then came her Punjabi school teacher, then her camp counselors, then other leaders of the community. I noted that neither her parents nor any of her relatives spoke – but instead, they just sat and listened to the members of the sangat, who individually shared such beautiful words of encouragement and praise for this young Kaur, who humbly sat at the feet of the Guru...It was quite powerful.

Finally, as the ardaas ended, there was a rare moment of pin-drop silence in the darbar hall. Then this brave 11 year old girl, surrounded by her proud parents and grandparents, read the hukamnama flawlessly...I was moved by the whole event.

Immediately after the hukmanama was completed, something remarkable happened...

As she began to turn the pages of the Guru Granth Sahib to the beginning, initiating her first sehaj paath, she began reciting the Mool Mantr aloud. Each time she repeated it, more and more people joined along. By the seventh or eighth repetition, just about every person in the hall was reciting along with her in unison. It was as though the entire sangat was offering a collective ardaas for this young girl, wishing her well on her journey and praying that she will always keep the Guru close to her.

Although this moment may have just been a short-lived gesture, to me, it was symbolic of something greater. It made me wonder what life was like in the prototypical society Guru Nanak Patshah had created at Kartarpur Sahib. I wondered what role the community played to support and guide the children. I’ve heard the stories of how everyone contributed to the langar, surpluses were shared among all, and everyone did seva for the community to create a socio-economic balance. But I have to believe that such an idealistic society did not leave parenting simply up to the parents. Instead, perhaps members of the community contributed to the upbringing of its children, and worked collectively to guide them on the right path. I wonder if it applies today...when it comes to our communities children, what is the role of the collective? When a child loses his or her way on the path of Sikhi, we are quick to blame and criticize the parents – but I wonder, is this what Guru Sahib expected of his Sikhs? Is this what he expected of his Gur-sangats? What is our responsibility in all of this?

In the mid-90’s Hillary Rodham Clinton described her vision for the children in America, in her book titled “It Takes a Village.” It spoke to the impact that individuals and groups outside the family have, for better or worse, on a child’s well-being. The saying “it takes a village” actually originated from the Nigerian Igbo culture’s proverb “Ora na azu nwa” which means it takes the community/village to raise a child. The Igbo’s also name their children “Nwa ora” which means child of the community.

Similarly, I believe it takes a village...actually...it takes a sangat to raise a Sikh. I firmly believe the collective has a responsibility to take ownership of our children’s Sikh and Gurmat development. This happens through creating opportunities for learning and empowerment, while also encouraging our young Sikh boys and girls as they achieve milestones on the Guru’s path

So what does this mean to us? Is it enough to spend a week at gurmat camp just to hang out with our friends and call ourselves “counselors”? Or can we make an honest attempt to leave a positive impression on a young child at camp? Could this summer be an opportunity to organize a gurbani veechar, “Big Khalsa Little Khalsa” event, seva project, basketball camp, or just a social trip to the movies or bowling with the local kids from the Gurdwara? Taking a step further, what about attending a kirtan or speech competition, just for the sole purpose of congratulating the 3rd and 4th place kids and those who didn’t place at all. What about simple gestures like reaching out to that struggling teenager whose “on the fence” about their Sikhi, or offering congratulations and encouragement to the young boy or girl who just started wearing a dastaar, or completed charni lagna, or received amrit?

Sikh Youth (and all youth for that matter) have so many influences…from more media sources than ever. Why not take an active role to be a positive one? If not us, than who will?

An "Amrit Vela" State Of Mind

2010-03-26T23:49:00.002-04:00

After following some of the recent on-line debates, and discussing the topic at our local Gurbani Veechar meeting, I’ve been reflecting a bit on the concept of amrit vela in Sikhi.

To summarize the debate, many feel that amrit vela is a specific time of day (roughly three hours before dawn) where one is most attuned to Waheguru. It is the time of day where there are few distractions and one’s mind can fully focus on reflection and remembrance of Waheguru. Then there are others who feel that spirituality and reflection cannot be tied to a time of day...any time is perfect for simran, and amrit vela is more of a “state of mind” rather than a specific time. Both sides interpret various lines from Gurbani to defend their case.

I am by no means an expert on the topic. My only extended period of time waking up at amrit vela was many years ago and only for a few weeks. I’ll admit, I really enjoyed waking up before the rest of the world and designating a block of time to sit and do my paath properly, with full concentration and no other distractions – unlike now, where I often multi-task as a I rattle through my paath. However, with my poor time management as a university student, waking up at amrit vela became tougher and tougher. And after a few scary moments at the wheel driving home late at night...I decided to defer this personal goal of mine until it better suited my schedule...unfortunately, that day has yet to come.

As I got older and broadened my views on Sikhi a bit...I felt we couldn’t look at spiritual matters so mechanically. In my cursory research on the topic of amrit vela in the Guru Granth Sahib and Bhai Gurdas Ji’s Vaars, I saw many references to amrit vela, but very little explanation of it. Maybe that was on purpose. I started to wonder, when Guru Sahib says, “amrit vela sach naao vaddiaaee veechaar“, perhaps we are spending too much time quibbling over the definition of amrit vela and not enough effort on the vaddiaaee veechaar. To me, amrit vela was more of a concept than a specific time...it is in fact the “Ambrosial Hours” the translation often states...and that time of “fragrance”, where one can concentrate on paath and simran could be any time...and certainly shouldn’t be limited to 4:30am.

I remember sharing these thoughts with a group of like-minded Sikh friends years ago...and we all agreed that this was in fact what Guru Sahib meant.

But now I’m not so sure...

Now when it comes to issues of Gurmat, and I remember those rooms full of nodding heads where we all were in agreement, I start to think to myself...what if we were all wrong?

Why do I believe that Guru Sahib was downplaying the idea of amrit vela, when there are so many references to it? Should I really be picking and choosing when Guru Sahib is being literal or not based on my own convenience? Furthermore, If a Sikh is a “disciple” and a disciple is to be...well...disciplined – then what more disciplined way can one start off their day then by waking up early?

When I think about the handful of times over the years at camps and retreats where I did wake up at amrit vela and joined together with my sangat for paath and simran before sunrise...it was so powerful. Isn’t this what my Guru wanted me to experience? And when I think about my elders and other Sikh role models who’ve influenced me over the years, why is it they all woke up before dawn as well? I guess what I’m saying is...maybe there is something to it. And unless I’ve really given it an honest try and experienced it for myself...who am I to really say what amrit vela is or isn’t?

This “literal” view of looking at amrit vela may not be popular with my friends, who still tend to see things a little “grey”, but maybe I need to start looking at my Gurmat issues like I do my politics...a little less republican...a little less democrat...and a lot more independent. It’s refreshing to see so much debate on Sikhi and Gurmat issues on the internet, but I think it’s important to look at each issue in its own context without bias, and form educated opinions accordingly – rather than just blindly attaching to a single school of thought.

So the journey continues...one day at time...and a few hours earlier :)

I would love to hear some personal experiences of others who have transitioned to an amrit vela lifestyle...

The Power of His Presence

2010-02-23T00:17:00.001-05:00

It was an exceptionally hot August...in between "two-a-day" football practices; I would stay inside, soaking in the cool air before spending another afternoon out on the field.

It was that same Summer when a young GurSikh medical student we recently met at a Gurmat camp stayed with us for a few days, as he was interviewing for a residency program at a nearby hospital. I rarely use the term "GurSikh", but this young man had the appearance, discipline, and demeanor worthy of such a title.

I didn’t interact with him much, as I was just a teenager lost in my own world made up mostly of sports and hanging out with friends...but I did observe him closely. I was intrigued by the fact he was an Amritdhari, and the only handful of Amritdharis I knew were closer to my parents age. And when we would sit and recite Sodar in the evening, it was different than the way we normally did it. It was slower, with more focus. He spoke each word carefully...as though he were concentrating more on what was being said, rather than just "getting through it."

One night, after dinner, our guest stayed back to chat with me. We talked a bit about football, and I was surprised to learn that he too played in high school. But right before I could ask him about "helmet tips", he told me that at the time, he did not keep his kesh. I was shocked! I would never have guessed. I was now even more intrigued.

We continued to talk for hours, about his experience following the Guru's path and the challenges he faced along the way. I asked him what inspired him to become a Singh, and he responded by explaining a line of Gurbani to me that I'll never forget...a line I had heard thousands of times but never understood.

bhae paraapath maanukh dhaehureeaa
This human body has been given to you.

gobindh milan kee eih thaeree bareeaa
This is your chance to meet the Lord of the Universe.

He explained that we've been blessed with this human form. This is our opportunity - our chance to surround ourselves with the Saadh Sangat, engross ourselves in Simran, and live a disciplined and reflective life in service of Him. And with His grace, we can break this cycle of life and death and merge with the Almighty.

Amazing!

This conversation was a defining moment in my personal journey as a Sikh. It was the first time I had ever had a line of Gurbani explained to me. For the first time, the Shabad was not hidden beneath loud instruments and popular tunes. Gurbani was no longer just something my parents discussed with friends. Instead, there was a clear message...a message for me. And if just two lines could answer the meaning of life, something I had always pondered – I wondered...what other questions might Gurbani answer for me?

This encounter also taught me about the value of conversation. I have been in so many environments designed to create spiritual experiences - camps, retreats, Gurdwaras - but some of the most inspiring moments I've had...some of my most meaningful "Sikh" experiences...have been one on one conversations with other Sikhs sharing personal reflections on the Guru's path.

Decades have passed since that August day. I still run in to that young GurSikh medical student from time to time - although now he is a successful physician, a family man, and still active in Gurmat camps serving as a role model to many more kids.

But this story isn't really about him.

To be honest, I wonder if that conversation was ever really with him at all.

I believe Waheguru imparts His Grace through his creation and the Guru is always with us - encouraging us, challenging us, and guiding us. Perhaps that defining moment I had years ago, was actually not a conversation with a visiting medical student at all...but instead with Guru Nanak himself. It's funny what lengths we go to for a "glimpse" of the Guru, when in fact, the power of his presence is all around us.

Such ruminations have inspired me to seek out conversations on Gurmat and Gurbani with other Sikhs, whoever they might be...elders, children, family, or acquaintances. Whether they know a lot or a little...everybody has a story.

There is so much we can learn about the Guru's way - through books, workshops, and seminars - but to me, it pales in comparison...as to what we can learn from each other.

Book Review: A Lion's Mane

2010-01-29T23:32:00.000-05:00

On our weekly library trips, I find myself going through shelf after shelf of children’s books trying to find something both entertaining and challenging for my young and enthusiastic readers. Often times, the books we find are one-dimensional; either instructive, or funny, or downright silly. Rarely do I come across a book that strikes a balance of being both educational and inspiring...this is what I found in A Lion’s Mane by Navjot Kaur

A Lion’s Mane is about the journey of a young Sikh boy who while discovering why he has his long mane (kesh), also learns about the principles of his faith. Concepts like patience, generosity, wisdom, and courage are all woven in to his beautiful red dastaar that guide you through the story.

In addition to the captivating illustrations, it is the simple messages that are reinforced throughout the story that I found particularly meaningful and easy for children to process. Statements like,

“When we learn something new, it makes each of us stronger”
“Being a Khalsa knight gives me the courage to stand up to bullies”

Although I have read several children’s books that touch on the Sikh experience, what I appreciate most about A Lion’s Mane, is how Sikh religious and cultural principles are raised in the context of other cultures and communities with similar principles. I had no idea of the symbolic role the lion played in Native American Hopi culture. In explaining who we are to non-Sikh communities, I think it is just as important to share how our traditions are similar as it is to show how we are different. This pushed me to learn a bit more about some of the other people and cultures mentioned. I found the glossary most useful in explaining to my children who is Wangari Mathai and what the Anishinaabe tribe is.

A Lion’s Mane has become quite popular in our sangat circle, not only for being an excellent resource for inspiring children – Sikh and non-Sikh alike – but also for Saffron Press’s commitment to being environmentally responsible (printing their books on 100% recycled paper) and socially conscious, donating a portion of their proceeds to restore sight and prevent blindness in children.

The image on the front cover of the book shows a young boy tying his dastaar in a mirror. But as he peers at his reflection, he seems himself with the whiskers of a lion, symbolizing its strength, courage and bravery. So many children struggle with their self-image and identity. And with our distinct uniform, many Sikh children find it even more challenging. I believe any book or initiative that helps promote a positive self-image and confidence in one’s identity should be both supported and celebrated.

I look forward to further publications from Navjot Kaur, and would encourage her to consider a sequel depicting the journey of a Sikh girl. Although the path of Sikhi is the same, I’m sure the experience is different. And there are few, if any, children’s books I’m aware of with a young Sikh girl as the main character.

A Lion’s Mane is definitely a hit with our kids! Truly a wonderful book...a must read!

For more information on A Lion’s Mane, Saffron Press, or to order your copy, please visit:
http://www.saffronpress.com/books.html

Combating Hunger...One Meal at a Time

2010-01-25T22:18:00.001-05:00

"Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love." – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Last week, in celebration of Dr. King’s legacy, the DC Metro satellite of Kid’s Against Hunger drew volunteers all across the DC, Maryland, and Virginia area for a hugely successful meal packaging event.

Kid’s Against Hunger (KAH) is a non-profit organization with the mission to significantly reduce the number of hungry children in the United States and to feed starving children throughout the world. This is accomplished through partnering with satellite organizations who raise funds, organize volunteers, and arrange events where meal packets (consisting of soy, rice, vegetable blend, and flavored vitamin powder) are filled, sealed, and packed for a population in need. Meals are then transported through KAH’s broad network of humanitarian organizations.

I came to learn about KAH, as the DC Metro satellite was founded by a group of young Sikh professionals in the DC area only six months ago. One of the founders, Romi Bhatia, a professor at George Washington University’s School of Business with a background in microfinance, learned about KAH from a report on The News Hour with Jim Lehrer back in August 2009. "It was the simplicity of it all that initially appealed to me", Bhatia said, describing the packaging events where volunteers meet in a central location to package nutritious meals for an underserved population. “We wanted to create an avenue where the work of local volunteers, who are willing to spare a few hours, can have far-reaching impact globally.” Shortly after watching the news report, Bhatia called the KAH headquarters in New Hope, MN and was surprised to learn that of the 70 satellite locations, the DC Metro area was not one of them. By September 2009, Bhatia and others gathered a handful of like-minded people to discuss the idea. Two months later, after raising their initial funds and establishing their non-profit organization status, they held their first packaging event – recruiting over 30 volunteers and packaging 9,500 meals. Three months later for their second packaging event on Dr. King’s Day of Service, they set a goal to package 18,500 meals. However, through the flurry of facebook invites and the announcement that all packaged meals would be sent to the recently earthquake-stricken Haiti, the number of volunteers tripled, topping 100 – in which 21,750 meals were packaged. It even received coverage from the local media [see below]. "It was amazing to see such a huge turnout and so many people come together for a common goal", said Veena Chawla, a KAH-DC Metro board member and physician at a local primary care clinic. "We have to realize that it doesn’t really take a lot of money or even a lot of effort to make a difference in someone’s life", said Chawla.

I must admit, last week’s event was one of the few times I’ve seen dozens of volunteers from all races, religions, and backgrounds all diligently volunteering for an initiative that was founded and managed by Sikhs. Bhatia, however, feels this is very much in line with their satellite’s mission.

"Although the board is currently made up of Sikhs, and many of our personal reasons for doing this stem from our Sikhi roots, our goal is to bring people together of different races, ages, and ethnicities to package and distribute meal packets. We are very pleased to see the diversity in our volunteers, and plan for our board to eventually reflect that diversity too," said Bhatia.

Following the work of the KAH-DC Metro satellite since its inception, it’s remarkable how quickly they moved from a handful of people discussing a concept in a living room to producing actual results, assisting people in need. Part of their success is due to the model they chose. Rather than "re-inventing the wheel", they partnered with Kids Against Hunger to take advantage of its established infrastructure, yet they also created their own non-profit organization, where they have the flexibility to make independent decisions on their goals and even where they send the meals. More so than that, I believe it has to do with having a solid vision and a focused objective – in other words...focus on the work...and let the organization slowly build itself around it.

The KAH-DC Metro team set a goal to raise enough funds and organize enough events to package 50,000 meals in their first 12 months. They are well on their way of accomplishing that goal and perhaps surpassing it. Congratulations to KAH-DC Metro for a successful launch! I look forward to hearing more about their achievements in the future.

Check out the coverage from News Channel 8 on last week’s event [see above]. If you’d like more information on Kid’s Against Hunger – DC Metro, or would like to make a donation…please visit: http://www.kahdcmetro.org/Kids_Against_Hunger_DC_Metro/Home.html

A New Day...

2009-12-26T23:23:00.002-05:00

Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa
Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh!!

One year ago today, I started this blog - Spirit Of The Sikh - as a way to collect my thoughts, stories, and experiences. And perhaps along the way, some may come across it and offer their comments and ideas as well. Little did I know that so many friends, family, and "gur-siblings" all over the world would take an interest in my posts. For this, I am truly humbled.

All through His grace...

Spirit Of the Sikh has also opened up opportunities for me to write on other forums, all of which have given me a chance to expand my thinking, write more critically, and from time to time...take some criticism too. All of which, I am extremely grateful for.

I'm very thankful for all you have who have commented on my posts , given feedback, challenged me, and motivated me - through comments on the blog, Facebook messages, and face-to-face conversations.

As I look to the year ahead, aligning with my personal goals of doing more reading (literature, history & Bani) and less writing - my posts may become less frequent. You also may see less essays and more poetry (my first love). I'm also hoping to invite some guest bloggers to share their ideas to this audience as well.

Although there are many sites, blogs, and discussion forums raising and defining issues affecting Sikhs today (which is refreshing), few of them connect these issues with a Sikh's personal experience. Much can be learned from this, by readers and writers alike.

In the year to come, I hope Spirit Of The Sikh can help facilitate such introspection...both individually and collectively.

On that note, I would like to conclude this post the same way I concluded my first post exactly a year ago - with a quotation from Prof. Puran Sngh, whose collective works serve as an inspiration for this blog. I found this particularly beautiful. It is from Part I of my blog's namesake, Spirit Of the Sikh:

We of the Punjab, were called to don the robe of the Guru's discipleship. We wear turbans as He did; we keep long hair as He kept. We prefer the colours he liked. We are still alive with the spark he lit in our souls. The torch when lighting another creates its own images.

We carry the Guru's face. His features, His whole image in our face and form. As I ponder who I am, I knew I am of the Guru.

When Grace Is Refused

2009-12-26T11:11:00.001-05:00

A few weeks back, while skimming through the news, I found an interesting report on Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s recent visit to the Darbar Sahib in Amritsar. Although I didn’t care much for the hoopla around his visit, I did find it interesting that he “offended” Sikhs by refusing to accept parshad or langar.

As I understand it, the preparation of parshad (grace) is unique in that it is ceremonially touched by a kirpan (kirpan bhet), which serves as an indication of the Guru’s acceptance and blessing. It is then distributed to 5 Amritdhari Sikhs representing the Guru Khalsa Panth. A Sikhs’ consumption of parshad displays a submission to the Guru. So accepting parshad is essentially “accepting His grace.” I’ve also been taught that parshad should be distributed after the hukamnama is read, as accepting parshad symbolizes acceptance of the hukamnama.

Now, whether or not Sikhs themselves understand the hukamnama, or even listen to it is another post for another day – but, if accepting parshad is accepting the Guru’s hukam, should a non-believer accept it? Although the Rehat Maryada states that parshad should be offered to everyone equally (as it should), should we be offended if someone rejects it? If a non-Sikh understands the meaning behind our practice and politely refuses it out of respect, shouldn’t we appreciate it instead?

I remember years ago at a Sikh Day Parade in Washington DC, as a handful of us were walking through the sidewalks handing out “Who are the Sikhs” pamphlets and answering questions from onlookers, an elderly BibiJi was darting through the crowd distributing parshad to random strangers. As shocked as I was to see this, it couldn’t compare to the shock on the face of those who received it. Most were not sure what to do with it, or joked about it with their friends, while others were seen throwing it away. I’m sure the BibiJi’s heart was in the right place, but what were we hoping to accomplish by this?

My question is...how can we value our traditions if we don’t even understand them?
And if we don’t value our traditions, how can we expect others to?

Unlike parshad, langar is prepared without such rituals. It is meant to be a “common kitchen” where everyone can participate regardless of beliefs. It is such a central part of our tradition to partake in langar, that I can understand why Sikh sentiments may have been hurt when Prime Minister Harper refused it. Perhaps his administration did not understand the origins behind it, or maybe his handlers in Punjab did not prepare him well enough. But if in fact he did understand the origins of langar and still refused it, then maybe Canadian Sikhs can begin a dialogue with the PM to understand why. Perhaps the Ontario-area Sikhs can invite him to the Gurdwara to “give him another chance.” Seems like a small price to pay for a politician who is clearly interested in the Sikh vote.

Harper’s visit raises another question – do local Sikh communities have a published “Gurdwara Protocol” for non-Sikhs? Does the SGPC have such a document for foreign dignitaries visiting Gurdwaras of historical significance?

When I’ve seen local politicians brought in to our own Gurwdara, they seem to be ushered in while committee members bark commands in to their ear on where they should bow and when they should stand. Often times they approach the podium not having a clue on who Sikhs are or what we’re all about.

Perhaps one of the upcoming Sikh conferences could take on this “one-pager” for non-Sikhs outlining central tenets of our faith as well as basic protocol.

Lastly, how far should we go to accommodate our guests? Essentially…how should we treat VIPs in a place where there is no such thing as a VIP? What if Prime Minister Harper preferred to wear his shoes during his visit? When does a visitor become unwelcome and how do we handle it?

As our generation takes bigger strides to open the doors of the Gurdwara to non-Sikhs, these questions will become more relevant. Perhaps we need to be more proactive and find better ways to prepare visitors so their visit to the Gurdwara can be both a pleasant and educational experience.

I’d love to hear your thoughts…or hear what more progressive sangats have already done.

Remembering a Legend

2009-12-01T00:15:00.001-05:00

[In memory of the late Bhai Avtar Singh Ragi: January 8, 1925 - November 24, 2006]

My introduction to Bhai Avtar Singh was in the late 1970's. Okay, to be fair...I was only a toddler and my family was hosting a kirtan at our home in memory of my great-grandmother who had recently passed.

Maybe it was only a coincidence that the famous ragis, Bhai Avtar Singh and Gurcharan Singh, sons of Bhai Jawala Singh and 11th generation kirtanis, were passing through Washington D.C. and were available for kirtan seva that morning.

Perhaps it was only a coincidence that my great-grandmother herself enjoyed listening to their kirtan very much. And maybe it was also a coincidence that two of her own sons were in fact named...Avtar Singh and Gurcharan Singh.

Coincidences aside, it was the beginning of a very special relationship.

I can't say I remember much from that kirtan, but my father did request Bhai Sahib to sing Ab ki baar baksh bande ko and the recording of that shabad has been etched in my childhood ever since.

Two decades would pass before our paths would cross again. This time, through my friend's CD player in his car soon after Gurmat Sangeet (1999) was released. Although I enjoyed listening to kirtan, personally, I preferred a more popular form of kirtan with a faster tempo.

However, being that my friends were big fans of Bhai Avtar Singh and we listened to and sang kirtan together a lot, I was repeatedly exposed to Bhai Sahib's reets (musical compositions)...and eventually, it grew on me. I particularly connected with Mero sundar kaho milay kith galli in Raag Devgandhari and Rattay ishq khudaae in Raag Asa.

With some help, I also learned how to play the latter on the harmonium, by thumbing through Gurbani Sangeet Prachin Reet Ratnavali, a book authored by Bhai Avtar Singh and Bhai Gurcharan Singh, wherein they have transcribed hundreds of musical compositions that have been performed in their family for centuries.

I was lucky that Bhai Sahib was well recorded. There was an abundance of tapes, CDs, and MP3s available of professionally-recorded as well as live kirtan. I compiled nearly a full collection of his work and listened to it at every opportunity I had.

After spending years absorbed in his 31 Raagas (2001) CD, I had the great fortune to listen to Bhai Avtar Singh live as he was passing through Chicago on his 2003 North American tour.

The first shabad I heard him sing live was Mohan neendh na aaveh in Raag Bilaval. A soon as he began the manglacharan, my eyes welled up. I'm not sure what it was. Perhaps it was the crackle in his voice that reminded me of a different era, or maybe I was feeling nostalgic of the recording I grew up with, or maybe it was the fact the shabad was sung in the same raag, feeling, and emotion in which my Guru wrote and sung it himself. Whatever it was...I was hooked.

I had the opportunity to listen to Bhai Sahib and his jatha, which included his son Bhai Kultar Singh and nephew Bhai Swaran Singh on the jori, on their two subsequent trips to North America in 2005 and 2006.

Bhai Avtar Singh's last visit was most special to me in that in that I got to hear him perform kirtan while playing the Taus - a traditional string instrument he had not played for decades in favour of the more popular harmonium. It was breath-taking!

Although I enjoyed listening to Bhai Sahib do kirtan at the Gurdwara during his visits, it was the private concerts at people's homes during the week I enjoyed most. Often times I would arrive early before work, right as Asa Ki Vaar would start. In that intimate setting, early in the morning with only a few people present, the experience was magical. Especially with the tanti saaz (traditional instruments), all I would do is close my eyes, and I would feel as though I was in Guru Nanak's darbar - with Bhai Mardana plucking the rabab and baani flowing through the Guru.

I try not to put kirtanis and raagis on spiritual pedestals, but I do have tremendous respect for Bhai Avtar Singh for his 60 years of kirtan seva, his complete mastery of the art, and for preserving the tradition of Gurmat Sangeet.

On a personal note, his kirtan has touched five generations of my family, from my great-grandmother (the matriarch of our family), to my children - who have been listening to Bhai Sahib, even before they were born! What a beautiful link we all share in common...

Although I have listened to all types, Bhai Avtar Singh's style of kirtan, with all the love and emotion he expressed it in, is what I've connected with the most. It has exposed to me the world of gurmat sangeet, which has encouraged me to understand and reflect on baani rather than simply listening to it. All of which (with His Grace) will bring me closer to the Guru.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

I thank Bhai Avtar Singh for helping shape my Sikh experience and thank Waheguru for giving us this rare gem of a man for a wonderful 81 years.

November 24, 2009

The Magic of Saakhis

2009-11-26T21:25:00.001-05:00

I have always loved listening to saakhis.

All kinds...from stories about the Guru's childhood and their travels, to the tales of courage and bravery of the Khalsa on the battlefield - there is nothing I loved more than to be transported to the era of my Gurus and the heroes of our faith.

Whether it was at home, the Khalsa School, or Gurmat camp, I would take every opportunity I could to listen to a saakhi about Sikh history...my history.

Much of that enthusiasm carried through my childhood, but as an adolescent, I started listening with a more critical ear. I remember once at camp, a teacher shared with us the story of Vaisakhi.

I'd heard the story hundreds of times, but it was one my favourites, so I listened attentively. As he told us about the Guru's call to the crowd that day and finally one man standing and offering his head, he said that Guru Sahib then "brought him in to an enclosed tent and returned minutes later with a sword dripping in blood."

Wait!...What? Sword dripping in blood? Where did this come from? I immediately raised my hand, and the instructor explained that Guru Sahib had slaughtered a goat behind the tent. I never heard this before. Why would Guru Sahib need to fool the crowd in this way? Weren't they shocked enough that he was asking for a head in the first place? Why did this saakhi have to be unnecessarily embellished? I wondered how many other different "versions" of the saakhi were out there.

After much debate on this saakhi with the instructor and friends, I started re-thinking many of the saakhis I grew up with. Unlike gurbani, many of these stories have been passed down generations through oral tradition and have only recently been documented in the last hundred or so years, so how do we know what is fact and what is fiction?

Especially those that border the realm of logic...the ones I was always amazed by. Did Baba Deep Singh really fight in battle with his head in his hand? In Mecca, did the Kaaba really move to the direction of Guru Nanak's feet?

I remember a student asking me at Gurmat camp once why Guru Nanak stopped a boulder with his bare hand if the Gurus were averse to using "magical powers."

Although I started to doubt many of the saakhis I grew up with, it did not shake my faith. In fact, what inspired me most of the Guru's lives were some of their worldly accomplishments - they were artists, poets, soldiers, human rights activists, environmentalists, city planners, architects, businessmen - all while living a productive family life.

The fact that Guru Sahib took a stand against the caste system at age 9 by refusing to wear the Hindu janeeo...this is what amazes me! The fact my Guru directly challenged oppressors like Babar during his brutal invasion and called him out as a tyrant...this to me is the magic of Guru Nanak!

Furthermore, some of these "super-hero" like saakhis that defy reality can be harmful too. Why would we want to make the Gurus larger than life and further distance ourselves from them? Maybe this is why people have resorted to babas and other intermediaries because we have made the Guru so "off-limits." After much thought on this, I stayed away from these "questionable" saakhis at camps and retreats and focused on those that were more logical or could be supported through bani.

Many years have passed and as I've started telling saakhis to my own children, I find myself with a dilemma. Part of me wants to tell the same stories I was told as a kid, so I can see their eyes light up in enthusiasm and amazement, the same way mine did...even if the stories are a bit exaggerated.

Although I've decided to share only those saakhis that seem more realistic and practical, I still tend to "leave a little room." As I've discovered on my journey of Sikhi, the more I learn, the more I realize I don't know. The fact of the matter is, I wasn't there when Guru Sahib squeezed milk from Bhai Laalo's bread and blood from Malik Bhago's. I wasn't there when he stopped the boulder with his hand. I wasn't there when Guru Sahib asked that his feet be moved away from the direction of the Kaaba...so perhaps I shouldn't let my parameters of logic restrict my understanding of history.

Maybe through simran, further reflection, and learning...my parameters will also change.

We come from a rich and proud history. And as we individually connect with the events through our story-telling tradition, there is likely to be variation in the ways our stories are told. What is more important is that we are able to extract the central message - whether it is equality, truth, justice, or compassion.
I hope that saakhis continue to inspire generations to come and the eyes of Sikh children (and adults) continue to light up with these tales of compassion, courage and heroism.

Because when a saakhi from our history is conveyed with enthusiasm, emotion, and love...it is nothing short of magic!

A Little Outrage

2009-11-20T00:39:00.000-05:00

I was really moved by this audio essay from Cecilia Muñoz titled “A Little Outrage Can Take You a Long Way” on NPR’s This I Believe segment.

In her reflection on activism, I connected with the statement about defeats outweighing victories, and how it motivates her to continue her work. Like many of the TLH readers, I too take time out my schedule for service activities. And after serving 100 or so meals at a homeless shelter, I go home feeling good about myself and the good deed I had done. Unlike Muñoz, I don’t stay awake thinking of the 100 or so people who were turned away that day at the shelter, or those who wouldn’t have a place to sleep that night. Maybe this is what separates me from real activists. To me, service has become an event or an activity – for an activist, service is a part of their life...part of who they are. They are constantly looking for ways to serve.

And I agree with Muñoz, “a little outrage can take you a long way.”

Although I don’t believe Guru Nanak was motivated by anger, I do believe he was outraged. Outraged by a society complacent with the rigid caste hierarchy, outraged at the imbalance of justice, and outraged by the barbaric methods of the State to suppress a minority. You can almost hear the outrage, when Guru Sahib describes the horrific events of Babar’s invasion:

eaethee maar paee karalaanae thai(n) kee dharadh n aaeiaa
There was so much slaughter that the people screamed. Didn’t You feel compassion, Lord?

But in the brilliance of Guru Nanak, he managed to channel that outrage in to compassionate activism.

As a child, attending Khalsa school and camps – I would learn about these different facets of Guru Nanak’s life and teachings. But to be honest, I struggled to understand the spiritual elements - concepts like Naam, Kirpa, Jeevan Mukti, all of these were abstract...I didn’t really “get it.” But when I read about Guru Nanak’s history and his activism...that, I got. When Guru Sahib at age 9 rejected the caste system by refusing to wear the janeoo…I got it. When Guru Nanak directly challenged the oppressive ruler Babar, during his invasion in the early 1500’s, and called him out as a tyrant...I got it. When he established the concept of Langar, where no matter what caste, creed, religion, or socio-economic group you were a part of – everybody sat together on the floor to share a common meal, and by doing so shook the very core of the caste system...I got it! It made sense to me. I connected with it.

And now as I’m slowly grasping a bit more of the spiritual elements of Guru Nanak’s message and putting the pieces together – I’ve learned that in Sikhi, spirituality and a connection with God (as essential as it is) it is not an end itself. Guru Nanak, with all his knowledge and piety, did not retreat to the hills and have followers come to him for advice. No, instead...he became an activist, an activist for the defenseless – to create a society based on complete human freedom and equality. Guru Nanak, and the Gurus to follow, were advocates for social justice, culminating in Guru Gobind Singh establishing the Khalsa with the deliberate plan that the down-trodden, even the out-castes, achieve social equality and capture political power.

Based on the examples the Guru’s have set for us, I believe that being an activist is a requirement for a Sikh. But how do we become and foster activists? As a parent, I’m always trying to think of ways I can teach Sikh principles to my children, and I know for many of the customs, rituals, and routines of a Sikh – they will learn it – through camps, through Khalsa schools and other structured learning. But when it comes to activism, such an essential part of our faith...I believe it will only be learned through example.

So perhaps I need to be a little more outraged. Or at least not get too comfortable. Maybe I need to keep a part of me always a little restless...searching for ways I can help a cause. I know there is so much injustice in the world. I know there is so much that would affect me, if I only cared enough to look.

Right now, somewhere in this world, there is a cause that needs my voice, a movement that needs my pen, and a march that needs my feet. Somewhere there is a fist I can raise, a rock I can throw, a fight I can fight, or a compassionate hand I can lend…all I have to do, is care.

This is the example Guru Nanak has set for me. The only question is…what am I going to do about it?

To The Last Hair, To The Last Breath

2009-09-10T22:34:00.006-04:00

A few weeks ago, while at the park with my family, an elderly woman dressed in a sari came over to say hello. After a brief introduction, she said to us “wait here for a second” and called out “Alex…come here!” A little boy with light skin and brown hair ran over to us. The lady in the sari bent down and said to Alex, “See…this is what your grandfather looked like. He wore a turban and had a long beard just like him.” Alex wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but he forced a quick smile and ran back to the swings.

As a dastaar-wearing Sikh, I come across these interactions quite often – some pleasant, some not-so-pleasant, and some downright awkward. But because they happen so frequently, I tend to brush it off and forget all about them quickly. For some reason, this incident stuck with me.

It made me think about the days in Gurmat camp decades ago when the Uncles would scare us in to keeping our kesh or else keshdari Sikhs would become a “thing of the past” and “only be seen in museum exhibits.” I never bought that theory, but the incident in the park did shake me a bit.

Although Sikhi is such a large part of my life, truth is...I really don’t think about kesh much. As a matter of fact, when I lead presentations about Sikhi to Sikhs or non-Sikhs, I make a point to downplay the kesh aspect. Not that it is any less important than any of the other kakaars, but with non-Sikhs, the “mystery” behind the kesh seems to overtake discussions, and we miss some of the most important and central tenets of the faith...equality, self-less service, self-realization, and universality of the message. And even with Sikhs, kesh is made such a focus that many in our community feel that as long as we retain the external image of a Sikh, the rest of maryada and discipline does not apply. It is essentially a “free-pass” and gives us the right to criticize those who do not keep their kesh.

Being the only Sikh boy in my school in the early 80’s was difficult and I always questioned why I needed to keep my kesh in the first place. I was given all kinds of answers – some said it was Guru Sahib’s way of giving us a unique identify we “couldn’t run away from” after the circumstances of Guru Tegh Bahdur’s shaheedi. Some said that hair has traditionally been a sign of saintliness, as many other saints from other religions kept long hair. Others said we should not cut something that grows naturally from our bodies (yes, the finger nail debate would quickly follow), while others gave more “alternative” reasons – that hair served as “antennae” to gather and channel energy from the sun. At a recent seminar I attended, one of the more “scholarly” elders referred to kesh as a “custom” and well, customs after time...do change. I’ve heard just about everything. Strange how I was so consumed with this question throughout most of my childhood and adolescence, but as I’ve gotten older and learned more about Gurmat, I’ve started to wonder less and less about it. Instead, I’m consumed with what I find difficult now – waking up at amritvela, focusing on my paath, being compassionate and forgiving, letting go of my ego, attachment, and anger, seeing Waheguru in everyone...it’s as though keeping my hair is the easiest thing my Guru has asked of me...I mean, I don’t even have to try! And for everything my Guru has given me, isn’t this the least I can do as an expression of my love?

In the end, we all have to come up with our own reason. Personally, I keep my kesh because my Guru has asked this of me...and I accept it as his gift – that’s it. It is neither a symbol nor a custom...it is a part of me...a part of my history. It is what Bhai Taru Singh gave his life for rather than a strand be cut. It is what Sikhs all around the world reflect upon daily in our Ardas, remembering those who gave their lives, “Kesan Suasan Naal Nibaahi” (with their hair intact, to the last breath). Just like a soldier wears his/her uniform proudly because it reflects the principles and tenets for which the country stands...my kakaars serve much the same...it represents the principles and tenets of my faith...equality, justice, service, compassion. And every time I stand before a mirror I am reminded of those principles and the code by which I live. Everyone around me is aware of it too...I cannot run away from it. And if my appearance means I am excluded from joining my co-workers at the bar after work or I’m randomly selected at airports from time to time...so be it. It is an honor and a privilege to bear the image of the Khalsa. And with my Ardaas and His grace, I shall live up to the ideals for which it stands.

Just about everybody I talk to or every article I read about the state of the panth tells me much the same...youth cutting their hair, trimming their beards, moving away from Sikhi etc. etc. Although I don’t ignore the realities of our situation, I don’t dwell in it either...I choose hope instead. I’m convinced through further reflection of our history, our traditions, and inspiration through Gurbani, we (individually and collectively) will reflect the Guru’s love and message. I look forward to a day at the park where a mother will bring their child over to us, lean down and say “This is a Sikh family…if you are ever in need…you can always count on them to help!”

Half The Sky

2009-09-04T00:56:00.008-04:00

The issue of forced marriages and domestic violence clearly struck a chord with many of the TLH readers. But somewhere deep in the comments over titles, or whether these are Sikh or Punjabi issues, or whether or not we should air our “dirty laundry” in the first place – I feel some of the issues themselves got lost.

In formulating my own thoughts on the topic and trying to build a broader perspective on women’s issues in general, I came across a fascinating article in last week’s New York Times Magazine called “Saving the World’s Women.” The premise of the article is that many of the countries that are disproportionately poverty-stricken and absorbed in fundamentalism and chaos, are also those same countries where women are the least educated and most marginalized. And by focusing (and investing) on women and girls, a dramatic impact can be made to fight global poverty and extremism.

Take the example of Saima Muhammad (pictured above) from Pakistan. Saima didn’t have a rupee to her name, was routinely beaten by her unemployed husband and other family members, and had to send her kids away due to lack of food and other basics. Even her mother-in-law contributed to her troubles by encouraging her son to marry again because Saima was only giving birth to girls. However, after Saima signed up with the Kashf Foundation, a Pakistani microfinance organization, things turned around.

Saima took out a $65 loan and used the money to buy beads and cloth, which she transformed into beautiful embroidery that she then sold to merchants in the markets of Lahore. She used the profit to buy more beads and cloth, and soon she had an embroidery business and was earning a solid income — the only one in her household to do so. Saima took her elder daughter back from the aunt and began paying off her husband’s debt.

…Saima became the tycoon of the neighborhood, and she was able to pay off her husband’s entire debt, keep her daughters in school, renovate the house, connect running water and buy a television.

As the economics of Saima’s situation changed, so did the relationship with her family. She now has a better relationship with her family and has earned their respect. It is unfortunate that this is what it took for Saima, and many will never have the golden opportunity Saima had, but it does send a clear message – that although it may seem impossible to break down cultural barriers, economics can change the game quickly.

The article explains case after case of how investment in women’s education and assistance in starting businesses can help impoverished women support their families, communities, and country – “They represent the best hope for fighting global poverty.”

Some of the author’s arguments seem a bit far-fetched based on their evidence. They claim that the “little secret” of global poverty has much to do with unwise spending by the poor-especially men, and that women are more likely to spend on family needs, health, and education more so than men. That could be debated at a family level, but a macro level, I feel we cannot realistically measure this until women hold more offices of power in these countries. But to be fair, this article was adapted from a book “Half the Sky: Turning Oppression Into Opportunity for Women Worldwide“, due to be released next month…perhaps I’ll be convinced after reading the full book.

What I liked most about the article was that it offered specific solutions and recommendations. It outlined an agenda on what “fighting poverty through helping women” might look like, based on studies by respected economists., more than just “throwing aid” to developing nations. It also explained models that have produced results in other countries. So you may be wondering…(and hopefully I’ll save a few angry responses)…what does this have to do with us? That’s simple:

- The UN has estimated that there are 5 million honor killings a year

- 130 million around the world have been subjected to genital cutting

- 1 percent of the world’s landowners are women

The list goes on and on…

This is not a Punjabi issue or a Sikh issue…this is a human issue. We know how our Gurus (through Bani & history) promoted gender equality, and one of the commenters last week beautifully laid out examples of courageous women throughout our history…from the stories of Mir Mannu’s prison to Mai Bhago and the women who fought alongside her. So if we are to be “activists of the world” why shouldn’t we be at the forefront of this cause? Shouldn’t our Sikh NGO’s work with President Obama’s new White House Council on Women and Girls? Shouldn’t our Sikh institutions partner with organizations like CARE, that works alongside poor women in fighting global poverty? And shouldn’t we create our own organizations that serve as a forum for discussion and activism both for global women’s issues and that of our local communities? And what about the author’s theory on how such focus can address global poverty…doesn’t that affect us? And even if we prefer to believe none of these issues currently affect our Sikh and Punjabi communities – given the proximity of where the article’s examples take place (several references to India and Pakistan) and similarities in culture, should we not be proactive in preventing it? Perhaps by implementing some of the recommendations the article suggests at a micro level, we can mitigate the issues discussed in previous posts on forced marriages and domestic violence.

I don’t believe there is any “silver-bullet” to addressing the issues above, but I’m glad to see TLH and its active readership discussing and debating them. As the Chinese saying goes, “Women hold up half the sky”…the issues affecting women cannot be silenced.

I look forward to hearing other’s thoughts and comments on the linked article!

The Wheat Of Compassion

2009-08-27T00:50:00.005-04:00

I’ve always enjoyed a good story...and amongst all the depressing news lately of our declining economy, raucous town hall meetings, and corrupt politicians...I often turn to StoryCorp’s podcasts for a quick “pick-me-up." A few months back, I came across a beautiful piece titled “Finding El Dorado.” It’s the story of Gus Hernandez and the unique friendship he developed with Siddiqi Hansoti as a result of the current economic crisis. I was moved by this simple story of compassion and the power of the human spirit. Take a listen…it’s only 3 minutes [link].

This story got me thinking about compassion and what it means to a Sikh. After some brief research, I found dozens of references to Daya (and its variations – Dayal, Dayala etc.) in the Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. Depending on the context, it is loosely translated as compassion, mercy or pity. Several times it is used as an attribute of Waheguru:

miharavaan kirapaal dhaeiaalaa sagalae thripath aghaaeae jeeo

He is Merciful, Kind and Compassionate. All are satisfied and fulfilled through Him.

Other times it is used in the context of an Ardaas:

jath sath chaaval dhaeiaa kanak kar praapath paathee dhaan

Please bless me with the rice of truth and self-restraint, the wheat of compassion, and the leaf of meditation.

But what I connected with the most was how compassion was described as a necessary attribute of the GurSikh:

dhaeiaa kapaah santhokh sooth jath gantee sath vatt

Make compassion the cotton, contentment the thread, modesty the knot and truth the twist.

eaehu janaeoo jeea kaa hee th paaddae ghath

This is the sacred thread of the soul; if you have it, then go ahead and put it on me.

If this line sounds familiar, it is because it is often associated with the saakhi of Guru Nanak Patshah at the age of 9, when he refused to wear the janeeoo that discriminated him against the rest of humanity. By rejecting it, he rejected the ideology of the caste system that pervaded throughout society.

It’s fascinates me that he cites “compassion” in this act of rebellion. In fact, wasn’t the act itself an act of compassion? Not only empathy toward those who suffered from the rigid caste system, but a genuine desire to alleviate it? Was it not through compassion that Bhai Khanaiya committed the rebellious act of serving water to wounded soldiers of the enemy’s camp? And was it not through compassion that Guru Tegh Bahadur Patshah gave his life for all those suffering religious persecution, and to protect the freedom of choice?

It makes me wonder…in my own small acts of rebellion or activism, have I ever felt such compassion?

After listening to Mr. Hansoti’s act of kindness to a stranger and the examples of compassion throughout our history...I wonder if, outside of my family, I have ever completely let go of my ego and truly been compassionate toward someone else...or if there was a time I could have been more empathetic?

I am convinced that compassion brings us closer to the Guru and helps break the barriers of ego that separate us from Him. As a dear GurSikh friend of mine has said to me, “If there is compassion in your heart, you will never be alone.”

In all my ponderings and analysis of compassion, I’m reminded of a quotation from Saint Thomas Aquinas, where he said, “I would rather feel compassion than know the meaning of it.” Hoping to “feel”...striving to be a better Sikh...

My Ride Home

2009-08-13T22:10:00.013-04:00

In my years as a consultant, frequent travel became routine. Waking up early Monday morning, cab to the airport, checking in baggage, waiting in lines, secondary screening, waiting in the plane for takeoff...by the time I reached my destination to start the work day, I was already beat!

But in this mundane ritual of a road warrior, I always took a moment of pause as I reached my destination and exited the airport. I would pan across the sea of yellow taxis looking for something familiar...yes, a dastaar!

Call it "reverse racial profiling" if you will, or maybe this is just my small way of creating some balance in the world - nevertheless, it is always a treat to find a Sikh taxi driver to share a ride with.

Even though we are complete strangers, the taxi driver is immediately my Veer or Uncle, and it is like we are meeting again after many years. We share a common guide and a common experience, and that is enough to bypass all the small talk.

It seems they are just as happy to have me as a passenger as I am to have them as a driver. For me - one who has always been intrigued by the "Sikh experience" - it's a chance to converse with another Sikh about faith, politics, family and everything in between. Also, since many of these Singhs are recent immigrants, it gives me a glimpse in to the lives of my brethren in Punjab and the challenges and struggles they face in adjusting to their new life...neither of which I have much insight into.

I'm sure they enjoy the conversation in the same way, or at least enjoy the opportunity to speak Punjabi and have cultural dialogue with one of their passengers. Some compliment my Punjabi and ask which pind (village) I'm from, while others joke about my poor accent and grammar, asking when my parents came to America...but nevertheless, they are equally proud to see another Singh.

The conversations are light-hearted, friendly, and always seem to end in debate over accepting my cab fare - they insist I don't pay! That only gives way when I repeatedly argue that my fare is reimbursed.

These taxi rides are often informative, where I can find out about local gurdwaras and events, and at other times resourceful. I recall one time, while travelling abroad, after some conversation with the driver, it turned out he was on the management committee of the local gurdwara. After further discussion over the projects I was working on in the States, I found myself at the gurdwara that weekend running a Sikh history workshop for the teenagers.

But one experience stands out the most.

Years ago, I missed my flight at the local airport and needed a ride to a neighboring airport about an hour away. The Singh taking me there was pretty quiet, but half way through the ride he asked me if I knew my paatth "mujabani'' (by memory). He immediately called another Singh on his cell phone, and asked him to call another. Then he handed me the phone.

I have found sangat and enjoyed Sodar in many places over the years, but scattered amongst several taxis across the Tri-State area is definitely a first! That night, I probably would have just rattled through my paatth as soon as I got on the plane. But sharing that experience with the sangat of the airwaves from a moving cab, was truly memorable. His eagerness to use this opportunity with a Sikh passenger to reflect in shabad was inspiring, and made me re-evaluate my own relationship with my nit-nem.

No matter how many people I meet in my professional career, I'm unlikely to meet as many people with such diverse backgrounds as these taxi drivers do. To many passengers, they will be the first Sikh they meet or maybe the only Sikh they will ever meet, so in a sense, they are ambassadors...ambassadors on wheels. And they will share the virtues of Sikhi, if not through dialogue, then at least through their kindness, compassion and professionalism.

My business travel days are mostly over, and I can't say I miss it much. But I do miss the rides and conversations with the Singhs when our paths would occasionally cross. But I rest assure, knowing that in any country I may visit, anywhere in the world, amidst the hustle and bustle of a busy city, I will find a Singh driving a taxi, proudly in his Sikhi saroop.

Then, I will know, that home is never far away.

Sikhi Aaj Kal

2009-08-06T11:35:00.004-04:00

I’ll admit...Bollywood movies were boycotted and banned in my household as far back as I can remember, so maybe these “religious sensitivity pre-screenings” are common...but the course of events surrounding this new movie is still quite strange...even for Bollywood’s standards. Last week, a new movie titled “Love Aaj Kal” was released, with Saif Ali Khan playing a Sikh as the lead male role. However, shortly before the release, the Punjab Cultural and Heritage Board objected to his portrayal of a Sikh.

Explaining their stand, Charan Singh Sapra, President of Punjabi Cultural And Heritage Board informed a tabloid, “We are objecting on the grounds that Saif is shown with a very trim beard.”

Long story short, after Khan’s formal apology and a paparazzi-filled press conference at Guru Singh Sabha Gurdwara, Dadar – 15 seconds of a questionable scene was cut from the movie and Khan declared he would not portray a Sikh “incorrectly” again in future roles. All smiles, the Punjabi Cultural And Heritage Board gave the movie “two thumbs up” and the green light to proceed.

I guess I should be happy that an organization is concerned enough about the image of Sikhs to raise such a fuss…except for the fact that we’re talking about fantasy-land. My question is…where is the organization that cares about the Sikh image in real life?

This is where I’m supposed to dive in to the failures of the Akal Takht, SGPC, Akali Dal, and all the other historic institutions who seem to be tied up in other pressing issues rather than investing in meaningful parchar and programs to bring wavering Sikhs (especially youth) back to the Sikhi fold...but I’m not going to do that. Too often these institutions are made the scapegoat for all our community’s ills. And frankly, as a Sikh living in North America – I feel our camps, conferences, retreats, civil rights organizations, and educational & developmental institutions have filled the void to move the Panth forward.

Even with such effective institutions, we cannot under-estimate the influence that media and pop culture have on Sikh youth – all over the world, but especially in Punjab and India. This is where we fall short. We have not managed to effectively use these same tools to promote a positive image of Sikhi – both in terms of Sikhi Saroop and Sikh principles.

I wasn’t really feeling the Teri Meri Bas video at first, but I now appreciate the vision and effort to use a music video in conveying such an important message. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, there are so many talented Sikh artists out there – MCs, singers, musicians, poets, artists, and film-makers…many of whom I’m sure are loyal TLH readers…so this is a challenge to you. A challenge to use your craft in presenting a positive image of Sikhs and Sikhi. A challenge to find creative ways to present Sikh ideals and principles. Personally, I’m tired of complaining about Bollywood and whining over offensive lyrics of Punjabi singers...tired of being on the defense. Let’s call the shots ourselves…and put something out there we can all be proud of!

Armed And Ready

2009-08-02T22:50:00.002-04:00

I was very impressed to see this great article (and cool pic!) in today’s Daily Mail. Along similar lines as last week’s post on the Blue Beret Kanhaiyas, it is wonderful to see Sikhs presented in this light…as confident and courageous soldiers in highly respected positions. Equally fascinating are some of the comments to the article which seem to be coming from mostly non-Sikhs, such as “Her Majesty is in safe hands with those two guarding her” and “Very smart they look too.” This is a far cry from the hate you’ll find on some of the military websites and blogs regarding the Sikh Coalition’s “Right To Serve” campaign. I hope this milestone and media attention of the Queen’s new guards will help serve as a stepping stone in this historic campaign here in the US.

Lahir 2009: The Movement Has Only Begun

2009-07-25T00:42:00.003-04:00

This past Saturday night, twenty artists from all over the country took to the mic in front of a packed and energetic crowd at the University of Maryland for Lahir 2009. It was a powerful evening of remembrance and reflection to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the 1984 Sikh Holocaust, organized by the DC Sikh Youth.

It was amazing to see teenagers, college students, young professionals, and even a few parents take to the stage and share their thoughts and reflections about 1984, human rights, and justice. Not only did the performers span across generations, but the performances themselves ranged in art form from musical pieces, poetry, and spoken word.

For me, it was fascinating to see how different each of the performers connected with 1984 – early in the show one artist eloquently recited an excerpt from Sirdar Kapur Singh’s 1966 speech to parliament, another tied environmental issues and water rights to 1984, while others shared personal accounts, poetry, dharmik geets, and dhadi vaaran. Regardless of how different each artist connected to 1984...the connection itself was strong...and watching that unfold on stage was absolutely breathtaking!

The evening concluded with G.N.E performing some of their recent tracks in front of their hometown audience. Seeing uncles and aunties “waving from side to side” was definitely a sight to remember.

For much of the last 25 years, Sikhs have been portrayed in a negative light around the events of 1984. We have quietly criticized the media – and while on the defensive – tried to point out inaccuracies about what actually happened...but it seemed we never really had a voice...Saturday night, that voice was heard loud and clear!

This 25th anniversary has produced several projects and initiatives that have helped document the Sikh experience of 1984, and these open mic events have also proved to be a powerful medium to document our story. I hope to see more and more of these events pop up throughout the country and abroad.

As the show came to a close Saturday night…the jakaaray kept going and the audience didn’t want to leave their seats...I kept thinking to myself, the show might be over...but the movement has only begun!

Here, here and here are some video clips of Lahir 2009…

Photos: Courtesy of Japnam Kaur

Moving The Movement...Lahir 2009

2009-07-09T22:40:00.002-04:00

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”(Margaret Mead)

Last Summer, a small group of thoughtful, committed Sikh youth from the DC Metropolitan area came together to form “Lahir” (movement) - a conference organized and run by high school and college students to promote human rights awareness.

There were three themes to the event. Educate, Inspire, and Act. The “Educate” segment consisted of a series of short presentations outlining the history of post-1984 human rights violations in Punjab, based on published documentation from Ensaaf. These presentations interspersed with videos of the victim’s families told the story of grave violations that occurred between 1984-1995 during the counter-insurgency movement - including torture, disappearances, and illegal cremations. The “Inspire” segment consisted of poetry, spoken word, and musical performances along the same theme. In the final portion, titled “Act”, participants broke out in to discussion groups and brainstormed ideas on how the Punjab case can be raised to a mainstream audience and reviewing what other communities have done to highlight their cause. Overall, the conference was a resounding success and launched several new initiatives.

This Summer, the Lahir team has re-assembled and Sikh youth activists and artists from all over the country will again descend upon the Nation’s Capital for Lahir 2009! This year’s format is an all-out ‘Open Mic’ with musical performances, displayed art, poetry, and spoken word. Trailers have been circulating around the internet, providing a glimpse of what to expect.

As I’ve stated in previous posts, I feel the message and tone of our protest of 1984 has evolved little in 25 years, and as a result has yielded little return. The struggle for justice has been minimized to angry slogans and accusatory speeches…much of which has turned off so many of my generation, to a point where any time “1984″ is brought up, the inevitable “rolling of the eyes” follows.

However, a new generation has arrived! And to quote my fellow blogger Maple Leaf Sikh, “the kids are going to be alright.”

A small yet growing group of Sikh youth has emerged…with amazing creative talent and a passion for truth and justice. They have molded the stories of pain, suffering, inspiration, and courage of our last 25 years of history and crafted it into a beautiful mosaic of music, art, poetry, and film. Lahir 2009 will put such passion on display. It will surely be a memorable event...don’t miss out!

Details are as follows:

Saturday, July 18th 2009 - Doors Open @ 6PM!
University of Maryland, Shady Grove Center
9630 Gudelsky Drive, Rockville, MD 20850

There are still a few spots available for artists to perform if you’re interested, contact movethemovement@gmail.com

Ardaas - What Are The Rules?

2009-07-03T13:04:00.004-04:00

We’ve all sat through it before...or...stood through it, that is.

As Anand Sahib ends, we stand for Ardaas and collectively reflect on the lives and accomplishments of the Gurus and the 18th century martyrs who gave their lives to preserve our Sikh way of life. Somewhere in between this reflection, and wishing for “Sarbat da Bhala", we take a bizarre detour in to the “ins and outs” of our community.” Yes...I am referring to the lengthy list of births, birthdays, graduations, anniversaries and other milestones we find in the middle of our Ardaas.

I’m not sure when this practice started; where a member of the sangat would make an offering to the Gurdwara so an “Ardaas” can be done on their behalf. Birthdays are most common week to week, but I have heard more creative ones - celebrating a new job, new car, first mother’s day, wishing someone well on an upcoming exam, or safe travels for someone’s trip to India. Some even taken advantage of this process, by doing an “Ardaas” on behalf of their business week after week - essentially advertising their local store, while they have the entire community’s ear. I’ve raised this issue to the committee that perhaps there needs to be a better way to handle these “community announcements” rather than during Ardaas...I mean, seconds after we recount the martyrs who were cut limb by limb and scalped, we collectively thank Waheguru for Tinku’s new Benz? It just doesn’t seem right.

So what should we do an Ardaas for? What should be allowed? What rules need put be put in place? Looking at the Guru for guidance, there are many references to Ardaas, but to quote a few:

In Guru Raam Daas Patshah’s Ardaas, he asks to be in the company of those who praise/seek Naam:

thin kee sangath dhaehi prabh mai jaachik kee aradhaas

Grant me their company, God - I am a beggar; this is my prayer.

Bhagat Ravidas Ji, a cobbler and tanner who at the time was considered of low social status only had one request in his Ardaas…His darshan:

sagal bhavan kae naaeikaa eik shhin dharas dhikhaae jee 1 rehaao

O Lord of all worlds: reveal to me, even for an instant, the Blessed Vision of Your Darshan.

Guru Angad Patshah explicitly states in Asa Ki Vaar:

naanak hukam n chalee naal khasam chalai aradhaas 22

O Nanak, no one can issue commands to the Lord Master; let us offer prayers instead. 22

So what does this tell us? Should we really be doing an Ardaas for mundane issues, material things, or trivial matters?

Rather than asking for a bigger house, should we be asking for compassion instead? Rather than asking to ace an exam, should we not be asking for humility? And instead of asking for our problems to go away, should we be asking for the strength and courage to deal with our problems?

Even with such “academic” understanding of all this...in my most troubling of times, I too have asked for such mundane and worldly things in my Ardaas. Is this a measure of how little I’ve progressed on the Guru’s path? Perhaps.

But then there’s another perspective to all this…

One of the many things I love about being a Sikh is there is no priest, intermediary, or holy man that stands between me and the Guru. Although there is a community element to that Sikh-Guru relationship (through Sangat), there is also a deeply personal and individual relationship a Sikh has with the Guru...and I for one, do not like to place any restrictions on that.

I do not belong to a God-fearing religion, but instead, a God-loving religion - and I feel my Guru accepts me for who I am, with all my strengths and weaknesses. And so my dialogue with the Guru should be open, honest, and unapologetic. So if that means in my Ardaas I ask for help in achieving a personal milestone, or for a sick friend to feel better, or for a prisoner of conscience in Rwanda to be released, or offer thanks for a new car...so be it.

Furthermore, I should be able to ask anything and seek guidance for whatever question or challenge I have...as long as I’m willing to seek his Shabad for answers.

To some extent, I still feel my Ardaas is indicative of my relationship with the Guru. And perhaps through seva, simran, and reflection, that connection will become stronger, the gaps in understanding will dissipate, and my Ardaas will no longer be filled with requests, but merely an expression of what my Guru has given me...Love.

My Gurdwara's Human Rights Committee?

2009-06-18T22:24:00.005-04:00

Play along with me here...imagine this Sunday you walk in to your local Gurdwara - remove your shoes, wash your hands, and as you make your way to the main darbar hall, you read the notices on the wall - “Education Committee holding Kirtan Classes Wednesday Night @ 6pm.” Next to that, another sign “Cultural Committee hosts Punjabi night next Saturday!" Further along, you see “Public Affairs Committee presents Interfaith Meeting on Friday.” Then right before you enter the darbar hall, you see…

Human Rights Committee holding urgent action letter-writing workshop for two Indonesian prisoners of conscience, Sunday after Langar - and don’t forget the “Justice for Darfur” rally this Saturday morning, bus leaves at 8am Sharp!

Whoa! What kind of radical Gurdwara is this? What are the youth up to now? Is this one of those extremist Gurdwaras? Or...is it the kind of Gurdwara Guru Sahib had intended?

Guru Nanak’s mission was based on the fundamental principle of human rights. We see this not only through his Baani, but throughout significant historical events - whether it was speaking out against the caste system and refusing to the wear the janeoo or his challenge of the tyrannical ruler Babar. Even in his ninth form, Guru Tegh Bahadur gave his life speaking out for a people whose practices he disagreed with, but supported their right to practice religion freely. He gave his life for the freedom of choice and the freedom of religion. There are several amazing stories of the Guru’s activism in the area of human rights and social justice...but strangely, this subject in the context of current events has now become taboo.

The discussion of human rights in many Gurdwaras faces a lot of resistance. How did this come to be? When did it become so controversial? Where did we lose that link to our history? Rather than work out such misunderstandings through dialogue, we’ve managed to just sweep the whole topic under the rug.

However - Last week I was inspired to attend a “1984 remembrance event” at the local Gurdwara, particularly because there were more youth and young professionals there than I had seen in years. It said to me that our generation has spoken!

The time has come to bring the dialogue of human rights back to the Gurdwara…where it belongs. Rather than periodic events to mark specific occasions, I propose that every Gurdwara start its own human rights committee. Why not? Many Gurdwaras have social committees, cultural committees, and committees that have nothing to do with Sikhi - why not have a committee that is built on the very foundation of Sikhi? And let’s be clear, this would not just be a stage to highlight the case of Panjab, this committee would bring to light the cause of any and every community suffering human rights violations throughout out the world.

How would such a committee work? Rather than re-inventing the wheel, there are models out there that function well. One example is for the Gurdwara’s human rights committee to establish an Amnesty International local group. Monthly meetings could consist of urgent action letter writing campaigns, presentations on high priority cases, and attending local events. By registering your group with Amnesty International, you will receive all the materials you need for your meeting each month. The leg-work is essentially done for you and the cost is next to nothing...all you have to do is participate. You can even start your group on-line and get your activist toolkit today! There are also monthly urgent action appeals and activities designed for school-aged children, in case you want to reach out to the younger kids.

There are many Gurdwara boards out there who are begging the “youth” to get involved in the administration of the Gurdwara; perhaps this is the avenue to establish ourselves. Forming a human rights committee has several advantages - First and foremost is the benefit it will provide for prisoners of conscience and those we speak on behalf of. Secondly, it will provide an incentive for activist youth who’ve been turned away from the factional fighting and poor leadership over the years, to re-engage with the Gurdwara. And equally important, is the clear message it will send to Sikhs and non-Sikhs alike - being a Sikh is being an activist - and it is our responsibility as Sikhs to protect the human rights for any individual or community suffering. I believe that if even one Gurdwara is able to successfully launch such a committee, others will quickly follow suit. The only question is...who will be first?

A Discontinuous Journey

2009-06-11T23:50:00.006-04:00

A few weeks back, an article called Outsourcing Prayers [scroll to the bottom], by Khushwant Singh caught my attention. It discussed how people pay big money to religious institutions abroad to carry out services and prayers on their behalf. This “outsourcing” of prayer helps out the “well-to-do” Americans and Europeans who do not have time for worship, while also benefiting cash-starved churches and the local economy of these remote areas. Several religions were mentioned in this article and Sikhs were not spared:

I sought explanation from the head granthi. He told me people from India and abroad sent money for akhand paths to be followed by Guru-ka-langar as thanksgiving or wish fulfillment. I could not comprehend how prayers recited by someone else could benefit a devotee who paid for them.

There has been much debate in our community on whether paying a professional to do an Akhand Paath on one’s behalf is contradictory to Gurmat. I also remember years ago when the SGPC was “selling” Akhand Paaths on-line. Luckily, outrage from Sikhs all over the world stopped that practice. However, this article got me thinking about Akhand Paaths, and the role it currently plays in our community.

I’ve seen various historical references to when and how Akhand Paaths began. Some say it began during Guru Gobind Singh’s time, where he had five of his Sikhs read the entire Guru Granth Sahib to him, then subsequently did so to mark significant occasions. Others say the continuous reading became prevalent while Sikhs were in the jungles and on the move. I’m not sure of the authenticity of either, but the practice itself was acknowledged by the Panth and defined in the Rehat Maryada.

There are many who debate that Akhand Paaths are simply an empty ritual and should be abolished. Most Akhand Paaths are done without anyone listening and have been minimized to a money-making transaction for Gurdwaras and Sikh institutions. While I understand and somewhat agree with this sentiment, I don’t know if I’m willing to throw out the idea altogether.

Personally, I have fond memories of Akhand Paaths at my home as a child. It seemed like the right way to mark a special occasion, and shouldn’t we be encouraging “Guru-centered” activities any way (even with our imperfections in the way we do them)? Isn’t this better than lavish parties?

Although there weren’t many listeners, I always loved going to our Guru Sahib da Kamra in the middle of the night to listen to Paath. And although I’ve only read for an Akhand Paath a few times, I enjoyed the opportunity to read Baani for an hour or two without interruption, even though my understanding was limited. It didn’t really matter to me that no one was listening.

At the same time, the Punjabi influence at our home did take over and Akhand Paaths became more about entertaining and feeding guests than the Paath itself. And as we got closer to our 48 hour deadline, my parents would nervously discuss bringing in the “professionals” to finish the Paath for us. I remember once being discouraged to participate in the later stage of the Paath, because we needed someone faster. The whole thing just didn’t seem right…

A few years ago, a handful of us (not really youth anymore) Sikh youths decided to do something different to mark one of our birthdays. Rather than our typical dinner outing, we decided to hold a Paath. Only difference was, it would be a Sehaj Paath (Sadharan Paath), or a complete but non-continuous reading of the Guru Granth Sahib. It was structured similar to an Akhand Paath in that we did follow a schedule with assigned times, but it was over a 3 week period, mostly during nights and weekends to allow for maximum sangat. We even marked on the calendar when we would be reciting certain parts of the Guru Granth Sahib that may invoke larger discussion like Sidh Gosht, Babur Baani, Asa Ki Vaar, etc. We chose one house to do the Paath in, and all took turns making meals to share the work.

It was an amazing experience and we all seemed to take something different from it. Some of the novices used the Paath as a way to improve their reading and fluency and with Sangat around following along with pothis, there was time to correct readers on their pronunciation, and re-read lines. Some of the more experienced readers paused every so often to ask for a translation of a line or a Shabad, which would often lead to discussion, and sometimes debate.

As we all gathered for the conclusion of our Paath, it was unlike any other Paath da Bhog I have attended. It took on a different meaning for me. The happiness I felt had less to do with finishing on time…but more so because I had learned something.

At the end of the day, I don’t feel Akhand Paaths should be abolished or anyone should be discouraged from reading Baani, continuously or not - but, I do hope our generation does organize, participate in, and encourage more Sehaj Paaths. I believe this will be more educational and experiential for all involved. And following the “State of the Panth” through camps and several different blogs for some time…it seems like such individual and community reflection is needed now more than ever.

In Sikhi, we have powerful and beautiful traditions, I hope the inquisitive nature of our generation will force us to bring more meaning back to such traditions, rather than just empty ritual…which is what I believe, Guru Sahib had intended.

On Common Ground

2009-05-28T23:10:00.004-04:00

Years ago, I attended a Sikh retreat far from home - outside of the United States and outside of my “normal crowd.” It was interesting to experience Sikh life in a different country...and I think Bono had it right when he said, “We are one, but we’re not the same.”

The first morning we all woke up at Amrit Vela and joined in Nit-Nem and Shabad Keertan. Everybody was in to it and nobody seemed distracted. It was one of those powerful “Sangat” experiences where you lose yourself and become part of the whole. I loved it! I was so energized after that Deevan and was excited for all the weekend’s activities to come...then came breakfast. It was a little chaotic as we entered the dining hall. Although the meals were vegetarian (God help us if they weren’t), a group of Singhs were arguing with the aunties demanding to see the packaging for the bread. They were convinced that this particular brand of bread had an animal byproduct as an ingredient. I skipped the bread and quickly moved pass, but finding a place to sit became an ordeal in itself. Although there were at least 50 people at the retreat, less than half were eating in the dining hall. I looked around and saw a handful of Singhs back in the kitchen sitting together eating from Sarab Loh bowls, cups, and plates. Another group of Singhs were heading back to their dorms to eat the food they brought, as their maryada only permitted them to eat food prepared by other Amritdharis who followed their same maryada. As for me, I felt like the new kid walking in the cafeteria on the first day of school trying to figure out which group I could fit in to. What happened to that warm and fuzzy feeling I had sitting in the Deevan? Now this Sangat, who couldn’t share a meal together, felt cold and distant.

Turns out mealtime wasn’t the only time we found ourselves at odds. We spent much of the weekend arguing over how many Baanis one should read daily, or whether Raag Mala is Baani, or the authenticity of Dasam Granth, or whether Keertan should only be sung in Raag. We even debated over what colors should be prohibited for Sikhs to wear. Considering I grew up in a Sikh community that still argues over whether keeping “Kesh” is necessary, this was all quite a culture shock. The whole experience was difficult for me to swallow.

I thought to myself…with all the challenges we as a community face in the real world, it is disheartening to see how disjointed and fragile we really are. If we can’t agree on some of the most basic of Sikh principles and practices, how can we really progress as a community?

Mid-way though the retreat, I became frustrated. I mentally checked out and just waited for the whole thing to end.

However - on the last morning, one of my dorm-mates, who I spent much of the weekend arguing with, arose at Amrit Vela to wash his hair and begin his Nit-Nem. He must’ve done this every day, but on this particular morning, it woke me up. Although we both criticized each other’s maryada, I was impressed with his discipline and moved by the way he personally connected with the Guru in this way. And then it dawned on me,

“Who am I to judge or criticize, when he is up at Amrit Vela engrossed in Simran and I am lazily lying in bed.”

There is, after all, one thing we do have in common - and that is the love for our Guru. But our Sangat, experiences, and influence are different. Therefore, there are differences in the way we practice. The way we practice is tightly aligned with our belief, and belief is not something we take lightly. Most are unlikely to change. But does this mean we have to settle for Panthic disunity?

Perhaps.

But I ask, have we ever really been united as a Panth? Only a handful of historical events come to mind where Sikhs from various groups had set aside their differences and shared a common goal - Banda Singh Bahadur’s conquer of Sirhind, and the immediate days after the 1984 Darbar Sahib attack come to mind, but for much of our history, there has been such disparity - even during the Guru’s time. It did not seem to prevent the Gurus from accomplishing their mission, so why should it prevent us?

There are some groups of Sikhs I disagree with, but they do the most amazing Keertan that touches my soul. There are some groups of Sikhs I am critical of, but I envy their sense of discipline. There are some groups of Sikhs I don’t see eye to eye with, but their passion for activism and social justice is inspiring. There are some groups of Sikhs I question, but their preservation of our sacred martial arts and warrior tradition is remarkable. So it begs the question...is it possible for us as Sikhs to embrace our commonalities and dare I say, “learn” from each other’s influences, yet be mature enough to accept each other’s differences…and agree to disagree?

Rather than spending our energy challenging one another over maryada and being critical of each other’s practices...can we instead focus that energy on living up to our own maryada and bettering our self? I, for one, have long ways to go.

I guess I’m starting to see the glass half-full. At this year’s Nagar Keertan, I passed by several aunties and uncles complaining of how chaotic the event was and how disorganized we were. But what I saw were thousands of my brothers and sisters...in different clothes, speaking different languages, some from different cultures, and even with slightly different practices...all marching the same direction. And I can’t help but wonder...rather than fight over our differences, is it possible we can rise above...and celebrate the beauty in our diversity?

On The Shoulders Of Giants

2009-05-28T22:56:00.002-04:00

Recently published on sikhchic.com

My father always kept a large collection of "Sikh" books at home, covering all aspects of Sikhi - history, Gurbani, and contemporary issues. I rarely delved in to these books, because the English was so hard to understand - often written by authors from the early 1900's or non-English speakers. But on a hot summer day, while on break - one book caught my eye.

It was a series of essays - easy to read, easy to understand…and most of all...captivating! I read the entire book in one sitting. I was able to relate to it so well, as it spoke about Sikh history's significance in today's society. One essay, titled "What Is A Head Worth" blew me away. Although I heard the story of Vaisakhi Day in 1699 dozens of times, this essay brought it to life for me, and I connected with it in a way I hadn't before. More importantly, the author made it relevant to today...and relevant to me. He explained that 300 years later, the Guru is still asking for our head. And we are being tested every day by our choices and actions the same way Guru Sahib tested his Sikhs on that day. The author concluded the essay with a question that shook me, and I immediately wrote it in my journal.

Three hundred years later, once again the Guru wants your head. Many will slip away, just as they did three hundred years ago. Many more will look away, just as they did then. The question is: How are you going to answer the call?

I was so moved by this book, I did something I never did before...I wrote a letter to the author. This was long before email and commenting on blog posts...this was a hand-written note. I wanted to tell the author how much I loved the book and how much this essay meant to me as a young Sikh discovering my faith. To my surprise, a few weeks later...I received a call.

Sure enough, it was the author. He was appreciative of my note and we engaged in discussion. I couldn't believe a professor and published author would take the time to call me...a mere college freshman. I invited him to speak at a conference a few of us university students were organizing and he obliged. The conference was a disappointment, as it turned out most of the participants were more interested in partying than attending the workshops - very few actually attended his talk. But he gracefully understood and encouraged me not to get frustrated and continue organizing such events...so I did.

As years passed, the author and I lost touch, but we would run in to each other from time to time in various cities - at workshops, retreats, seminars. He was always a featured speaker and it didn’t matter what the topic or theme was - he was always an expert. And each time we would meet, he would mention the letter I sent him as a kid - and remind me that he still keeps it!

I have followed his writings over the years, through his books and his articles on sikhchic.com, and they still captivate me. Often times he titles them with something provocative, as though he may make some controversial declarative statement at the end - but he rarely does, sometimes to my frustration. He instead raises pertinent issues, analyzes both sides of the argument down to the intricate details - and then leaves the reader to make up their own mind. As I've gotten older, I've learned to appreciate this more. As I've seen in Sikh politics and Sikh leadership, we often rush to make declarative statements without the necessary discourse and debate. And we become more comfortable just following the "loudest talker" rather than thinking for ourselves.

Late last year, on a whim - I sent an essay of my own to the author for his feedback. I respect him as a writer and was hoping to develop my own writing. I had rarely shared my essays with anyone else before. He promptly replied with some feedback and encouragement. He also suggested I send my essay to sikhchic.com. With that encouragement, I've continued to write and share pieces - which has been a tremendously reflectively experience and one where I’ve discovered a lot about myself in the process. It's funny, that same person who patted me on the back and encouraged me then as a kid, is still doing the same 15 years later.

I thank Dr. IJ Singh (UncleJi) not only for his guidance and encouragement of me, but for his guidance and encouragement of so many Sikhs of my generation. Although he is a self-proclaimed "gray-beard", he has a knack for connecting with youth activists unlike any other, serving as a trusted mentor and advisor to several Sikh organizations. He has filled the gap as a "visionary" and "thinker" for our institutions, something we as a community often lack.

In one of UncleJi's previous columns, "From Seeds To Flowers”, he poignantly addressed the youth of today, stating, "Sometimes I like to tell them to keep in mind that if they can see farther and act more purposefully, it is because the young stand on the shoulders of giants."

True indeed! I wish UncleJi the best of health, the highest spirits...and most importantly...the strongest of shoulders!

Sukhdeep Kaur Receives Zeff Fellowship

2009-05-22T22:39:00.003-04:00

Rice University senior, Sukhdeep Kaur, has received the Roy and Hazel Zeff Memorial Fellowship - a $25,000 grant, which will allow her to study issues of human rights and access to justice in areas around the world. The news release states:

A political science and policy studies major with a focus on law and justice, Kaur has a longstanding interest in human rights and justice issues that stems from the violent history between the Indian government and Sikhs in Punjab.
For her fellowship, Kaur will travel to four countries — Chile, Rwanda, Israel and France — to work with minority populations on the issues of access to human rights and justice.

I recently interviewed Sukhdeep and we discussed how she first got involved with human rights. “I knew I wanted to work with law and justice but wasn’t really sure whether to focus on civil rights or human rights,” Kaur said. However, after taking a human rights course her sophomore year and her personal study of the violence toward Sikhs in India in 1984 and subsequent human rights violations, she decided to make this the focus of her field work.

Last summer, Sukhdeep traveled to India where she interned with Ensaaf - concentrating on documentation, consolidating data, and training local staff. She also volunteered at Aman Biradri, working with the Nirvair initiative - focusing on rights for widows of 1984. Finally, she collected data for her senior thesis, interviewing families across Punjab. In her thesis she argued that the Indian courts have been insufficient in distributing justice and how a grassroots movement is necessary. One thing that struck me about her experience in India was the apathy towards human rights from Punjabis themselves. “I was surprised that so few people living in Punjab knew about Jaswant S. Khalra, the issue of mass cremations, or the on-going court cases,” Kaur said.

In Sukhdeep’s three years at Rice University, she not only excelled in her academics, but also in several extra-curricular activities - participating in club volleyball, bike team, equestrian team, and the bhangra team. She is also well-known for her active participation as an instructor and counselor at Gurmat camps throughout the United States. After her fellowship next year, she hopes to begin law school with the ultimate goal of pursuing a career in public policy on human rights and justice issues. Furthermore, she hopes this fellowship will give her better insight to how other countries deal with human rights issues and what can be learned for the case of Sikhs in Punjab.

There are many things that inspire me about Sukhdeep Kaur, but more so than anything else, is her spirit. When asked about the obstacles and challenges she and others faced in India while doing research- lack of support by the government, interference by the police, and the tiring legal process, she said,

“The process is meant to deter us. It is meant to deteriorate our hope and strength. But as Sikhs, we cannot give up. We cannot stop fighting.”

Congratulations Sukhdeep Kaur! Guru Ang Sang!

Are We Expecting Too Much?

2009-05-16T14:25:00.005-04:00

History tells us that Guru Nanak Patshah created Dharmshalas in Kartarpur where Sikhs would rise early and meet for Keertan, Veechar, reflection, and Guru-ka-Langar. It was a central element to the ideal society that Kartarpur would become. Over a century ago, Sikhs first arrived in North America - working at lumber mills, railroads, and as migrant laborers. They settled their families and chose to establish Gurdwaras (as early as 1908 in West Vancouver, BC and 1912 in Stockton, CA) to preserve both their spiritual and cultural roots in the land far from their history.

Now with hundreds of thousands of Sikhs in North America and the needs of our communities growing, the Gurdwara has expanded the services it offers far beyond its humble beginnings. Many Gurdwaras have Khalsa schools and libraries. Others plan for fitness centers, basketball courts, and healthcare clinics. One of the local Gurdwaras here hosts an annual Panjabi cultural show and mela, with weekly Giddha and Bhangra practices held at the Gurdwara facility itself. The North American Gurdwara has become not only a spiritual center, but also a community center, serving all the needs of the Sikh and Panjabi population.

On the one hand, I like having a Gurdwara as the center for our community’s activity. Although not all people have an initial interest in Sikhi, all these other events and programs at least keep people coming. And even a short “ritualistic” trip to the Gurdwara could develop in to something more. On the other hand, I can’t help but wonder…are we asking too much from our Gurdwaras?

With such different and competing interests, leaders fight for position so they can make their agenda the focus, and control Gurdwara resources accordingly. This drives much of the political drama and power struggles that surround our Gurdwaras today. As a result, many programs (such as Khalsa schools) end up mismanaged, poorly resourced, and inefficient. Secondly, with all the programs our Gurdwaras offer, I question - are we taking away from the primary purpose of the Gurdwara…learning Gurmat (the Guru’s way)? How well do our Gurdwaras focus on Simran and Veechar? How well do our Gurdwaras connect the youth with the Guru’s message? What about services for non-Panjabi speakers or introducing non-Sikhs to our faith? What about programs emphasizing Sikh culture - like Gatka or Gurmat Sangeet? Are our Gurdwaras really institutions for learning? If the answer is less than perfect, shouldn’t we re-prioritize and change the focus of our Gurdwaras?

Many Gurdwaras serve small communities in rural areas where limited resources force the Gurdwara to serve multiple purposes. However, in larger communities, where resources are plenty - should we consider separating out our organizations? Maybe create separate Punjabi societies, Khalsa schools, clinics, and even Sikh community centers that focuses on outreach, youth counseling, and seva projects? Perhaps under separate structures and management, these organizations will be able to thrive and meet their goals more efficiently with less resistance. And with our community’s growing needs, why not grow our presence with more diverse organizations?

Thoughts?

Faith and "I"

2009-05-07T23:44:00.004-04:00

Good Morning.

I will be taking care of all your problems today.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy the rest of your day!

-God

This is what the sign on the wall read at the Salvation Army on the North side of Chicago. Prior to volunteering there, I only knew stereotypes of the homeless and hungry…just what you see on TV. But it didn’t take long for those stereotypes to break down. The people we served meals to were happy, smiling, polite and full of energy. What surprised me most, was their deep sense of spirituality. Not only did I find this in my conversation with folks, but even in their greeting. My standard, “Good morning, how are you?” was often replied with “Blessed” or “In His Grace”, many with bible in hand.

I used to wonder, how could people so hard on their luck, have so much faith? I have seen so many times with family and friends, after they’ve suffered difficult circumstances or loss, God and religion are the first things questioned, i.e. “How could God do this to me?”

I’ve been reflecting quite a bit on “faith” lately, as I’ve noticed a growing pattern of Sikh Youth beginning to doubt their belief in God. In my conversations with some of these youth (many of whom come from wealthy backgrounds), I’ve tried backing off the subject of God altogether, and simply asking - “What do you believe in?” And it’s been pretty consistent. Most of their belief lies in achieving materialistic and financial goals - a high-paying job, big house, nice car, admiration and respect from the community etc. I would listen to this in awe, thinking to myself, that’s it? There is nothing else? Nothing deeper?

I’m not implying that poor people are more inclined to be spiritual or more likely to believe, while the wealthy are incapable of it - of course, all of us can think of examples to prove that theory wrong.

But in simplest terms - in order to believe in God, you must first believe that there is something bigger than yourself.

And therein lies the problem…

I wonder…is their doubt really based on any atheist philosophy or scientific theory, or it is just Haumai (I-am-ness). Is it our Haumai that convinces us that we know everything when we really don’t? Is it our Haumai that inhibits us from connecting with the Shabad? Is it our Haumai that prevents us from believing?
In page 346 of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, Bhagat Ravidas Ji says:

malin bhee math maadhhavaa thaeree gath lakhee n jaae
My intellect is polluted; I cannot understand Your state, O Lord.
karahu kirapaa bhram chookee mai sumath dhaehu samajhaae
Take pity on me, dispel my doubts, and teach me true wisdom.

I believe Waheguru is within everyone, believer and non-believer alike. But the force that connects us to that Waheguru within can be strong, weak, or non-existent depending on our Haumai. A friend once compared this to metal filings and a magnet. If you put a stack of papers in between the two and move the magnet, the filings will only move a bit - if at all. But as you remove the layers of paper, the filings will eventually move the direction of the magnet. And as the layers become less, the force between the magnet and filings become so strong…they will eventually be in sync. Similarly, we must remove the layers of Haumai to be connected with Him.

Thoughts…opinions? I’d love to hear.

Let The Truth Be Heard

2009-05-02T23:16:00.002-04:00

Earlier this month, worldwide Human Rights organization Amnesty International released a news article on the plight of Sikh Massacre victims of 1984, still awaiting justice after 25 years. This came shortly after the Delhi Court delayed ruling on Jagdish Tytler, due to the CBI’s inability to produce enough evidence against him. Ramesh Gopalakrishnan, Amnesty International’s South Asia Researcher stated:

“The fact that almost 3,000 people can be murdered without anyone being brought to justice is offensive to any notion of justice and should be an embarrassment to the Indian government.”

"For the Indian government to dismiss these cases due to lack of evidence is farcical. The various agencies responsible for carrying out the investigations failed to carry out the most cursory of tasks – including recording eyewitness and survivor statements.”

As troubling as it is to read this, I was pleased to find that Amnesty International had covered it at all. As many of know, AI, as well as other independent human rights groups and initiatives were either banned or prevented from conducting research in India in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. It seems as though there is hope for an independent investigation on the 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms and perhaps the subsequent disappearances during the counter-insurgency.

Not so fast…in an un-related story, the Tribune reported that Amnesty International has decided to shut down its India operations. The decision is said to have been triggered by continued denial to the Amnesty International Foundation of the FCRA (Foreign Contribution Regulation Act) registration by the Government of India. In a letter to the country offices Amnesty International said,

“The Government of India continues to deny the FCRA registration to the AI India Foundation and our local resources are very insufficient for our survival.”

You might ask - with a corrupt government, poor human rights record, rejection of independent investigations, rejection of the ICC, and an unbelievably strong lobby - what course of actions must Sikhs take for justice? I don’t know… But I do feel our generation has a unique opportunity to present our case to the world in a way the previous generation could not. The material is out there…AI Reports, HRW reports, Ensaaf reports, and personal accounts - but it’s upon us to either let this information lay on shelves collecting dust in law libraries…or to make it known to the world. Let this 25th anniversary of the Sikh Holocaust serve as a call to artists, musicians, film-makers, MCs, poets, writers, educators and story-tellers…the Panth needs you…let the truth be heard!

This We'll Defend

2009-04-27T23:58:00.007-04:00

Recently published on sikhchic.com

This We’ll Defend
By Rubin Paul Singh

Last fall, I went to an NFL game to watch my team face their arch rival on Sunday Night Football. As we were watching the pre-game warm-up, the gentleman next to me asked "So what do they think of football in your country?" I paused, and politely replied "Well, considering my country is America…we think pretty highly of it." He attempted to re-phrase his question and after a few awkward exchanges, I yielded, and answered "Oh…you mean my ancestors, they are from Punjab…I'm not sure what Punjabis think of football." We changed the topic to the upcoming game and ended our conversation.

I run in to these dialogues a lot. As I've gotten older, the occasional taunts and racial slurs I receive due to my articles of faith no longer faze me. I can always blame that on ignorance and lack of education. But the exchange like the one at the football game unsettles me. They are typically with people who are both educated and polite, but it is their perception that is troublesome…their presumption, that because of the way I look…I am not an American.

Perhaps I bring it on myself by proudly wearing my Guru's uniform. But I was born and raised in this country and my parents migrated here in the late 60's. So I ask, how long does it take? How long will it take before the average person realizes that an American is not just black or white?

All these thoughts came to me as I attended the Sikh Coalition's presentation last week, on the eve of their historic press conference at the Iwo Jima Memorial, launching their "Right to Serve" campaign.

For years while giving presentations about the Sikh religion to non-Sikhs, I always mentioned that Sikhs are not allowed to serve in the military, but I really didn’t know much more than that. I learned a lot that night…

I learned that Bhagat Singh Thind, a Turban wearing Sikh was recruited by the US Army to fight in World War I. However, in a 1923 Supreme Court case, he - along with others South Asians - was denied citizenship.

I also learned that in 1981, the U.S. Army banned “conspicuous” religious articles of faith for its service members. However, Sikhs like Col. GB Singh, a dentist, and other soldiers of faith who were part of the army before the 1981 rule change were allowed to stay. Colonel Arjinderpal Singh Sekhon, a physician, was also given a special exemption from the policy. Both Col. Singh and Col. Sekhon have continued to serve in the U.S. Army with their Sikh identity intact for the past twenty-five years. Both men retired within the last two years.

Kamaljeet Singh Kalsi (a physician) and Second Lieutenant Tejdeep Singh Rattan (a dentist) are now being prohibited from taking up the very same positions in the Army today.

During the presentation, the Sikh Coalition legal staff explained how critical this campaign is for Sikhs and our rights in this country. If the Army overturns their 1981 ban, it can serve as a precedent for several cases where Sikhs have been denied to join a uniformed position due to their articles of faith. Many of the existing cases could simply disappear.

I also had a chance to briefly speak with Kamal and Tejdeep about their own experience. They were humbled by the support they've received by the Sikh Coalition, the law firm involved, and the Sikh community itself. What impressed me most is they were not disenchanted or discouraged by the experience, nor were they angry about the Army's stance…they're not "in it for the fight." In fact, their motivation was simple…they are soldiers, and they want to serve their country. Furthermore, they do not see the distinction between being a Sikh and a soldier, and they don’t feel that they…or anyone else...should have to choose.

The circumstances around the case seems promising, especially since Kamal and Tejdeep would serve in the same role Col. Sekhon and Col. Singh did with honor for decades. It almost seems like a "no-brainer." But it will be an uphill battle. There is a lot of culture and tradition in the military. Standards and codes are not something to be taken lightly. There will be a lot of opposition, and this is evident from military websites and forums discussing the issue. Many who support the ban feel that "I keep my religion to myself, so should they" and technical issues like gas masks and helmets will be debated at length. But as Col. Sekhon pointed out at the presentation, "It will ultimately come down to the interpretation of the first amendment." When we say "Freedom of Religion", does that imply "…and the articles of faith that come with it."

This may be a long battle, but I believe the victory will not come just when President Obama signs off on this new policy, but the victory will be in the process getting there. Imagine how many people throughout this country will be educated about Sikhs during this journey. I am thankful the Sikh Coalition will be representing us on this issue, but they will need help from us - in signing petitions, calling our lawmakers, writing op/eds, generous financial support, and of course…our Ardaas.

At some point during the presentation, I looked around and noticed a handful of children in the room. I thought about them...I thought about my own children. Perhaps in all of this, a road will be paved for them. Maybe this effort will set a foundation for the civil rights of a Sikh in this country, where they will truly be recognized as Americans, and become part of the fabric of this great country. Perhaps they will know an America where the Guru's uniform will only open doors for them.

Although I've attended many meetings and dinners over the years where concerned Sikhs had to organize - where a hate incident occurred, or a civil right was denied - where we've been on the defense…but that night, there was something different in the air. I can't describe the feeling. Maybe this is what the Brown family and the NAACP felt the night before they took on the Board of Education or when Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott held the first women's suffrage meeting. There were smiles, excitement, optimism, and most of all…hope. Perhaps this is what it feels like...when you’re on the brink of history.

A Moment Of Pause

2009-04-26T23:59:00.002-04:00

In my desire to churn out thoughts as quickly as possible, I came across this audio essay that gave me a moment of pause. I think this is a good reminder for all of us - bloggers, writers, poets, MCs, and other story-tellers, why we do it...and how we can be better.

It's a 5 minute piece from my favorite series, "This I Believe" in their final episode on NPR titled, "Life Is An Act Of Literary Creation." It's definitely worth a listen. After all, how can you turn down a piece that starts off with "I believe God is a poet." I mean, really?

Enjoy!

Somewhere Out There

2009-04-19T23:25:00.062-04:00

It's happened enough times to cause concern.

Whether it's through a group discussion at a Gurmat camp or a talk with a concerned parent, I'm finding more and more Sikh youth questioning their faith. Not as much about the articles of faith, but faith itself - to simply put it...they don't believe in God.

I consider myself a very liberal-minded Sikh and see a lot of grey where others might see black and white. But neither I, nor anyone else, can stretch the definition of a Sikh to include one who does not believe in God. In my dialogue with these youth, there are all kinds of reasons for their uncertainty. Some use their "atheism" as an excuse for the real issue - their disinterest in the keeping the Sikh uniform and discipline. And well, saying you don't believe in God is a shorter and less emotional argument to have. With others, the doubt is more genuine. Some are students of science and base their principles on quantifiable and verifiable evidence, while others have been raised in a technology culture where everything is so here, so now, and so in your face - that contemplating the un-seen is so foreign to them.

I recall having my own doubts about the existence of God in my teenage years. I rejected the concept of "blind faith" and the dogmatic approach to Sikhi that I was familiar with, and I couldn't understand how people I respected so much believed so strongly. That is, until, I stumbled upon Guru Nanak. No, not a "vision" of him...but a history book. I read extensively about his life, his work, and his travels - and I was amazed! At that age, I idolized social and political revolutionaries like Malcolm X, Dr. Martin Luther King, and Che Guevara - but I learned that none of them could compare to my Guru.

It wasn't the story of how he stopped a boulder from falling on him that fascinated me, nor was it how the kabba moved the direction of Guru Sahib's feet; it was how he challenged the caste-based society, how he challenged devotees of meaningless rituals in their own holy places, and how - through his powerful words - he challenged the tyrannical ruler, Babur. He believed in truth and justice...and was completely fearless in defending it. This was the magic of Guru Nanak!

Although I had my doubts about God, one thing I knew for sure... I believed in Guru Nanak - with all my heart. And well, he surely believed in God...so maybe there was something more for me to learn.

After some further study, contemplation and discourse with my sangat - my faith became firm.

Questioning can be healthy, and the journey in finding out answers can actually do more good and strengthen one's faith long-term.

To some, faith and belief come easy. To others, it takes a little work. Some youth are skeptical and are not really willing to put in the effort - to learn, reflect and discuss. To them, I offer a quotation from Dr. King:

"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step."

Or in Bhai Gurdas Ji's words:

"If you take one step towards the Guru, then the Guru will take a thousand steps towards you."

As a community, I think we focus so much of our spiritual development on ceremonies, competitions and other public displays of faith...but very little on the internal - simran, reflection and vichaar. Perhaps I need to find more creative ways to engage children on these aspects of Sikhi at a younger age, so their foundation is solid and not easily swayed by peer pressure or doubt as they get older.

After a lengthy discussion with an unconvinced youth, he turned the tables on me and asked, "How can you believe?"

I had to reflect...how could I?

How could I close my eyes and fall back on something I've never seen or touched?
How can I look out in to the darkness and pour my heart into something...somewhere out there...into the oblivion, and trust that He has heard me?

How can I believe?

Although I dabble in writing and poetry, I still have a tough time articulating my belief.

I don't have the words to express myself when I hear the elderly man next to me at the gurdwara, who is moved to tears every time he hears the hukamnama. I cannot explain how I feel when I see a Sikh mother rock her child to sleep, deep in simran, with gurbani on her lips. I cannot explain how I feel when, for every hundred times I rattle through my nitnem, I connect with a line somewhere that touches my soul. I cannot explain what comes over me when I've looked straight up in the sky at twilight, and see the sun and clouds arranged in a way, where such a masterpiece could only be designed by the Almighty. I cannot explain what it's like to hold a newborn baby in my arms, knowing that only a few minutes before...He was holding her in His own. I am overwhelmed by his Grace...and to those who doubt it; all I can ask is...

"How can you not?"

Never Broken

2009-04-11T00:05:00.011-04:00

Rajdeep Singh Jolly's Letter To The Editor struck a cord with me. In particular, his statement:

Throughout history, oppressors have persecuted Sikhs by targeting their identity; during the 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms in India, when thousands of Sikhs were massacred, their turbans were stripped from their heads and their unshorn hair was forcibly cut before they were murdered. If the Sikh articles of faith truly had no value, our oppressors would not have subjected them to systematic destruction.

...As a Sikh, I reject the notion that wearing a turban or maintaining uncut hair is prohibitively wearisome or any more tedious than, say, shaving a beard or waxing one's legs. The case for what the article called "daily tedium" is often a smoke screen for loss of faith, lack of pride, susceptibility to peer pressure or all of the above. Young Sikhs are merely accelerating the work that their oppressors could not finish.

As a teen in the early 1990's, I rememeber receiving a California-based newspaper called the World Sikh News every month at home. Each month it would provide the latest news in Punjab politics and an update on the on-going violence. What always struck me was the front page, which month after month would show an image of a Singh on the front, who had been killed in the violence, and in every case his hair forcibly cut. I just couldn’t understand why. Even if he was a militant and was killed in a fire-fight, why cutting of the hair?

Many Sikhs buy the Indian Government's story of attacking the Darbar Sahib for the purpose of "flushing out terrorists." If that was in fact the case, why was the Sikh Reference Library ransacked and set afire? Why were precious artifacts from our history stolen and destroyed?

It is reminiscent of Hitler's famous question to his chief of staff , "Is Paris Burning?" as he ordered Dietrich von Choltitz to level Paris in the last days of the war - destroying not only bridges and key military positions, but anything of value, including the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Louvre - historical and cultural landmarks. To erase a people, you must first destroy their history and culture. von Cholititz would ultimately disobey him.

Truth is, the 1984 attacks were not designed to just kill Sikhs. They were designed to kill Sikhi. To attack our history, our culture...to break our spirit.

Over the last few days, Sikhs have spoken...

They have protested outside of the courthouses of New Delhi, they have stopped rail traffic in Punjab, and the whole world watched Jarnail Singh chuck a shoe at the Home Minister, while the Sikh Nation roared a jakaara!

But as we reflect on different ways to remember and protest 1984, let us not forget...if it was our Sikhi they tried to destroy...if it was our spirit they tried to break…than it is our spirit we must preserve, it is our Sikhi that we must strengthen. Now is the time to re-inforce our relationship with the Guru.

There is nothing a tyrant fears more than a Guru-inspired Sikh.

A State of Denial

2009-04-10T23:59:00.004-04:00

I recently stumbled on a report from the Asian Centre for Human Rights (ACHC), titled Torture in India 2008: A State of Denial. This document claims to be “the first nationwide assessment of the use of torture in India.”

ACHC is a Delhi-based organization focused on protecting human rights throughout Asia, with what appears to be a specific focus on South Asia. I’m not familiar with this organization, so I’d be curious to hear if others can support or disprove their work.

The report focuses on the use of torture by police and security forces from routine arrests to counter-insurgency operations. Although it is clearly a preliminary analysis, it’s findings are quite alarming. The report notes:

The statistics of NHRC imply that in the last five years 7,468 persons at an average of 1,494 persons per year or four persons in a day died in police and prison custody in India. However, these figures represent only a fraction of the actual cases of torture. Cases of torture not resulting in death are not recorded.

Particularly troublesome was the section on custodial torture of women and children.

Some of you may be rolling your eyes thinking this is “just another Punjab Human Rights post.” However, the interesting thing in this 109 page report, is there is very little mention of Sikhs or Punjab. But the challenges facing the ACHC are very similar to what I’ve read in Ensaaf’s material about disappearances in Punjab - namely the dismissive nature by the Central Government, denying the there is a problem altogether:

The Home Minister attributes custodial deaths to “illness/natural death, escaping from custody, suicides, attacks by other criminals, riots, due to accidents and during treatment or hospitalisation”

Other similarities include the shortcomings of the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) and it’s inability to deploy it’s powers toward investigating torture. The report also states:

NHRC’s preference for interim monetary compensation over recommending prosecution is a cause for further concern.

Sound familiar?

This report proves (yet again) that abuse of power by police and security forces are not an “aberration” or a result of isolated incidents - it is a systemic problem throughout India. And unfortunately, India’s failure to bring perpetrators of human rights violations to justice and overall poor human rights record does not seem to impact it’s relations with its allies.

To me, this report serves as a reminder that Sikhs are not alone in suffering human rights violations at the hands of the Indian State. Perhaps if we spoke with a collective voice, there could be a greater impact. After the Godhra pogrom in 2002, where nearly 1000 Muslims were massacred in Gujarat, a handful of Sikh Youth worked with the Gurdwara in Chicago to organize a “Rally Against Injustice In India” at Grant Park. Bus loads of people arrived from the local Gurdwaras and mosques all throughout Illinois and speakers from several religious communities addressed the crowd. The press coverage it received was far greater than previous protests done independently. Maybe something to consider as planning is in the works for the “25th anniversary” events…

Marketing History

2009-04-01T22:01:00.004-04:00

Recently pulished on sikhchic.com under the title 1984 & I: Ever Strong & Ready

Marketing History
by Rubin Paul Singh

I remember a time when having a T-shirt with a Khanda on it was a novelty. I used to wait all year until the Sikh Day Parade or camp to get the latest design. Now the options are plenty.

Recently, I was T-shirt shopping on-line for my toddler, and I was impressed with the creative designs in bright colors with words like "Kaur" and "Punjaban" beautifully scripted. But that day I was looking for something different...something "Panthic." I wanted a T-shirt that would connect my daughter with recent Sikh history and the struggles we as a community have overcome. But as I entered the "Panthic" section, narrowly labeled "1984", it was as though a grey cloud had cast over my monitor. There was a complete change in style and design. Instead of the colorful images with decorative script, I instead saw images of our beloved Shaheeds in a backdrop of fire, or the number "1984" dripping in blood, or the word "Khalistan" in between two AK-47s with bullet-holes all around it. I thought to myself, "What happened?"

Truth is - I understand the sentiment behind the designs. I take great inspiration from the events and personalities of the Sikh struggle, regardless of how it is expressed. I probably have several "blood and fire" T-shirts in my closet right now. So maybe I’m just getting older, or maybe I was just having a reflective moment while finding an appropriate T-shirt for a 2-year old...or perhaps this is telling of a much larger issue...bigger than just T-shirts. In 25 years, our portrayal of 1984 has not evolved.

Of course, the events of 1984 were both horrific and tragic. Over the last 25 years, we've expressed anger, frustration, and sadness - and all of this is necessary. It essential we share our pain and commiserate as a community in order for us to heal. Human rights organizations must also document the graphic realities in order to expose the truth and pursue justice.

But, for us as a community to move forward, we must shift our paradigm and find more positive and inspiring way to present our recent history. If not, we will simply continue "preaching to the choir" while the rest roll their eyes. And in the end, the majority of our youth will remain unaware and apathetic about our struggle. This may seem contradictory to the message in a previous post This Is Who We Are, but there is a subtle difference. There is one segment of our community who refuse to acknowledge the "blood and fire" of 1984, while the other segment of our community cannot seem to look beyond it. Either extreme is unlikely to change their mind. But if we intend to unite our community on this issue, especially amongst the youth, we must market to those who sit in the middle - the indifferent. They are the ones who make up the majority and can make a difference in what direction this movement moves. I am convinced that this must be done through positive and inspirational messaging.

Creating an inspiring message around 1984 is not hard to do. When I tell my children saakhis of recent history, we talk about the bravery of the Sikh soldiers who held the might of the Indian army for four days in the Battle of Amritsar. We discuss the spiritual revolution that took place shortly thereafter as masses of Sikhs took Amrit, and joined the path of the Guru. And most of all, we reflect on all the current day activists who have been inspired by the "Heroes of 1984" and have channeled their energy in to great contributions to the Panth, and to the world.

One of my favorite quotations is from a classic movie Lion of the Desert - Omar Mukhtar about the Libyan resistance movement against the Italians in the early 1900's. After a war scene, Mukhtar returns to the village and informs one of the women that her husband was killed in battle. He then says to the grieving widow holding her infant son, "Do not let him see you crying too much, one day they will carry on the fight. Children should remember us as strong and confident...never broken. "

This concept is not new to us, we call it Chardi Kalaa. Perhaps we can use this idea to shape our perspectives and portrayal of 1984 - whether it is through art, poetry, music…or T-shirts.

Finding Freedom In Forgiveness

2009-03-29T03:13:00.002-04:00

I’m a bit of an NPR Junkie, and one of my favorite series I listen to is called This I Believe. This I Believe is a national media project that engages everyday people in writing, sharing, and discussing the core values and beliefs that guide their everyday lives. I’ve been following the series for quite some time now, but last week, I came across a story that really moved me - it’s called Finding Freedom In Forgiveness.

In 1984, Jennifer Thompson -Cannino testified that Ronald Cotton was the man who raped her. Eleven years later, DNA evidence cleared him of the crime.

This story speaks to the healing power of forgiveness.

Although I haven’t heard many Kirtanis or Granthis speak about this topic much, Guru Sahib in fact has much to say about “Khima” (Forgiveness). As I’m starting to research and reflect on this concept through Gurbani, I came across this line that I immediately connected with. From Bhagat Kabeer Ji, page 1372:

jehaa lobh theh kaal hai jehaa khimaa theh aap 155
Where there is greed, there is death. Where there is forgiveness, there is God Himself.

Finding Freedom in Forgiveness is less than four minutes long and worth the listen. I would love to hear what others think of this audio essay and perhaps an experience of your own as you’ve discovered forgiveness on your own journey…

Seva & I

2009-03-18T23:16:00.013-04:00

I was nervous. It was my first day on the job as a crisis hotline volunteer. Although I had just completed weeks of rigorous training on how to handle all types of calls - from anxiety, to depression, domestic abuse, and the dreaded suicide - I was still a little uneasy.

I met my mentor for the evening, an elderly white woman who lived in a suburb not too far from me. We made small talk, then she turned to her Danielle Steel novel, and I started thumbing through my training manual - both of us awaiting the next call.

Almost immediately, the phone rang.

"This one's yours, kid," my mentor said.

I took one deep breath and picked up the phone. Apparently, there hadn't been one for months, but sure enough, my first call was a suicide. Even though we spent an extensive amount of time covering this topic in training, I instantly froze up.

I placed the caller on speaker and my mentor immediately took over.
What happened over the next 30 minutes will stay etched in my memory for the rest of my life. The caller was severely depressed about a health condition he had been battling since he was a child and - to make a long story short - while on the call, he had the dangerous combination of the means and a motivation to end his life.

Under immense pressure, my mentor stayed completely calm and spoke to the caller as though he were an old friend. She listened, asked questions, empathized, and comforted. As she carefully listened to his experiences and hardship, she searched for bright spots in his life, which she quickly noted down, then shared those with him throughout the call - hanging on to whatever she could to keep him on the line and give him a sense of hope.

Midway through, she successfully disabled the caller's "means" and he agreed to speak with a therapist we referred him to, and to join a support group. Fifteen minutes later, she referred the caller to an organization he could volunteer with.

I was confused ... volunteer?

But my mentor and the caller together decided that assisting others with a similar condition would help him cope with his own illness. The caller then thanked her for helping him and he agreed to call back the next day.

Then they both hung up.

My mentor looked at me with a half-smile and gave that "whew!" gesture as she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and returned to her book.

To her, this was "just another call." To me, it was one of the greatest acts of love I had ever witnessed.

The caller was prepared to end his life - but through genuine love and compassion, not only did she convince him not to, but she motivated him to seek further help, and inspired him to volunteer, so he could give back to others.

How amazing!

I know in Sikhi we don't believe in "angels", but I do believe Waheguru imparts His will through His creation. It reminded me of a line in a Shabad I once learned:

agan saagar booddath sansaaraa, nanak baah pakker sathigur nisathaaraa
The world is drowning in the ocean of fire; O Nanak, holding me by the arm, the True Guru has saved me.

That night on the crisis hotline, I watched this metaphor come to life.
And this whole experience made me reflect on "seva."

In my understanding, seva, in the context of gurbani, has two necessary elements - complete selflessness and a connection with the Divine.

Although I've done many acts of service, I often wondered if I've ever done seva. Have I ever actually done something for someone else, where there was absolutely no haumai, no ego...no "I?"

Over the years, I've organized several events and projects as a volunteer, but I do get stressed out and frustrated when things don't go as planned. So, is this still seva?

And even though I am cognizant of it, and make an effort to be "selfless," sometimes my ego has a way of sneaking up on me. Some may say I'm being too hard on myself and too idealistic. But, there is no "wrong way" of doing Seva, right?

I agree that one should do as many acts of service as possible, regardless of the motivation - but I believe that seva, in the way the Guru describes it, is something more.

And it can be truly selfless.

When I read the story of Bhagat Puran Singh, I don't think he saw a distinction between Piara and himself. There was no "I."

These ruminations on seva have changed the way I approach volunteering. For one, I will henceforth try to choose the work that "needs to be done," rather than the work that "I want to do." Secondly, I will seek volunteer opportunities in places and environments that are different for me, that will challenge me, and take me outside of my comfort zone.

As for experiencing truly "selfless" seva, this is where the other element comes in to play - simran. I believe that, through recitation and reflection on Akaal Purakh's Name, the barrier between myself and those I may help will dissolve. Through simran - acts of service, love and compassion will become part of my character and not something I consciously think about. The "I" will disappear.

But until I reach that stage - like anything else, I must practice.
Practice simran, so that it will inspire seva - and practice seva so that it will inspire simran. I must take advantage of every opportunity for seva. Not only because it is my duty as a Sikh, not only for the good it may serve, but from what I can learn from the "angels" I meet along the way.

What We Do

2009-03-11T23:55:00.003-04:00

I'm very lucky to have been involved in Sikh Gurmat camps for most of my life - as a camper, counselor, and administrator. Along the way, I've collected many stories. My friends have always told me I should document them. So here's another addition to the series I call "Camp Stories." Please comment with your own story too...

Camp Story #5: What We Do

Okay, I'm going to take a break with the camp stories for a while, but I thought I'd leave you with a good one. I'm cheating though...this wasn't actually from a camp, but a Sikh history class I taught many years back at the local Gurdwara. My group of kids were between ages 6 and 8.

On the last day of class before Summer break, I gave the kids a test covering everything they learned during the year. The kids were nervous, but they all did a great job and finished ahead of time. Since I couldn’t let them out too early, I gave them a quick exercise to do. In addition to Sikh history, we covered a lot of Gurmat - so I decided to ask them a simple question - the first thing that came to my mind, "What do Sikhs do?"

They all started writing their answers and one by one they handed me their paper and were dismissed from class. As I waited for the next student to hand in their paper, I started thumbing through the ones I had already received. Here's what some of them said:

"A Sikh is someone who does Kirtan"
"A Sikh is someone who listens to their parents"
"A Sikh is someone who goes to Gurdwara"
"A Sikh is someone who treats others nicely"
"A Sikh is someone who keeps their hair"

I was so happy with all these great answers. Finally, the last student came up to me and handed in her paper. I quickly took a glance at what she said and it was one of the funniest things I had ever read. I fought hard to hold it in, but as soon as she walked out, I exploded in laughter until it hurt!

I have a folder at home with all the student's papers from classes and camps I've taught at. And recently, I came across the very paper this student gave me so many years ago. And when I opened it up, it was just as funny as when I first read it. There it was in perfect handwriting…

"A Sikh is someone who does pot"

Turn To The Guru

2009-03-08T00:46:00.004-05:00

I'm very lucky to have been involved in Sikh Gurmat camps for most of my life - as a camper, counselor, and administrator. Along the way, I've collected many stories. My friends have always told me I should document them. So here's another addition to the series I call "Camp Stories." Please comment with your own story too...

Camp Story #4: Turn To The Guru

We were lucky to have many parents join us at camp to share in the experience. Overall, it was great to have parents learn alongside their children, but it did open us up for some interesting situations…

I left our evening Divan early one night to check-in with the Kitchen crew on dinner preparations. Right as I exited the Divaan hall, one of the mothers followed me outside crying hysterically. She was terrified and could barely make out her words, but she explained to me that she did not see her son sitting in his group. She looked at all the other groups in the Divaan hall and didn’t see him there either. She sent her other son in to the bathroom and his cabin, but still he was nowhere to be found. This is a camp director's worse nightmare…a missing kid. I ran in to the Divaan hall and quickly scanned all the groups on the floor, and sure enough, he wasn't there. I tried to stay calm, but quickly got the word out to the other counselors. This was his first time at camp and he was a quiet kid, so not everyone remembered when they saw him last. Immediately, about ten of us counselors searched the campsite - every cabin, every bathroom, every classroom, every field, and even the lakeside. We even sent a couple canoes out on the lake, as the missing kid's brother couldn’t remember if he had seen him after we went canoeing before Divaan. We alerted the camp authorities, and after 30 minutes of searching…I decided to make the dreaded call to the Police. This entire time the poor mother was so distraught - she could hardly keep herself standing. Right as I took out my cell phone to make the call, the missing boy appeared - walking right out of the Divaan hall. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The boy's mother rushed over to him and we were all elated. In unison, several of us counselors asked him, "Where were you?" He said, "I was sitting behind the Guru Granth Sahib, doing Chaur Sahib seva."

Yes…although I checked all the children organized by groups in the Sangat, I never actually checked behind the Guru Granth Sahib…(and in my defense, neither did the mother or the other counselors!)

But in the end, it did teach us all a valuable lesson...

Whenever you face adversity, always turn to the Guru…first :)

Pictionary

2009-02-24T23:19:00.005-05:00

Okay - on a lighter note...

Camp Story #3: Pictionary

Remember that game, Pictionary? The one where you're secretly shown a word and then need to draw an image of that word while your team guesses what it is before time runs out? Well, whether you loved it or hated it…it has played an active role in Gurmat camps for well over a decade…of course, only after "Sikh Jeopardy" got old.

Pictionary seemed to be our default activity when us instructors had no idea what else to teach, needed to fill time, or were too lazy to come up with a real lesson plan. It took no effort to prepare and the kids loved it! We would just write Sikhi-related words or events on a card, like "Kirpan", "Vasakhi", or "Dastaar" and we were ready to go.

But there's one "Pictionary moment" I just can’t forget…

After all the kids had a turn and there were a few minutes left in class, one of our senior counselors volunteered to draw - the kids were excited! We thought we should make it a little more challenging and gave him the word "Chaalee Muktae." The look on the counselor's face was priceless! The timer started and the counselor hastily started drawing. First he tried drawing Guru Gobind Singh, but to no avail - the kids weren't even close. Then he tried drawing a battle scene…but still, nothing! Then he tried drawing a picture of a letter getting ripped up…still, no luck. Finally, with time running out - he decided to break up the words "Cha" and "Lee." He began to draw a picture of a cup with steam coming out, symobilizing Cha (tea), but still, the kids hadn't a clue, they yelled out all kinds of things. Frustrated, he kept pointing at the cup over and over, banging on the board with his marker, nearly knocking the whiteboard over…the kids were yelling out "Uhh…cup…Uhh…steam…Uhh…hot!" Finally, the time ran out and buzzer went off and the counselor screamed, "What do your parents drink!"

And a little boy in the back yelled out, "Whiskey!"

Move The Movement

2009-02-24T17:11:00.014-05:00

In my previous post, Truth To Power, I stated:

We must read such reports and present them ... anywhere and everywhere ... to anyone who will listen: our gurdwaras, our local Amnesty International chapters, student groups, talk radio, public television, newspaper op-eds, etc. We must also create awareness of these findings in whatever format we can - through music, art, theatre and poetry.

I was impressed to see the Sikh Student Association here at the University of Maryland acting on this principle. The SSA, in conjunction with other student groups, is sponsoring a free concert on April 3rd, 2009 to mark the 25th anniversary of the 1984 Sikh genocide.

The featured performer for the concert is Immortal Technique, an up-and-coming rapper who attracts a large and diverse audience, especially amongst college students. His intense style, controversial lyrics, and willingness to approach political subjects, such as the mid-east conflict, have made him a fan favorite amongst the politically aware.

It is refreshing to see students think "out-of-the-box" in remembering 1984, by attracting a mainstream artist and joining forces with other student activist groups under the tagline "Move the Movement." The SSA plans to distribute background material on the 1984 atrocities and subsequent human rights violations, as well as feature short video clips and interviews with victims in between acts.

I hope other groups will take from this example and implement similar creative ideas as opposed to gathering in front of embassies and consulates, shouting at empty buildings. I never really understood that concept. Why would we stand outside of the Indian consulate demanding our rights? If the Indian government orchestrated these crimes, why would they be interested in our demands or empathizing with us?

I'm equally uncomfortable with candlelight vigils. This was popular as I was a student, as such vigils would pop up every June and November at gurdwaras and university campuses all throughout North America. I understand the need to reflect and commiserate on the atrocities of 1984, but there is something very passive about a vigil, as though we are community in mourning. Our history teaches us to be in Chardi Kalaa under such struggle, so why mourn? Besides, it is not as though 500 years have passed, it's only been 25. Survivors are still suffering (see Widow Colony), and many of the architects of the Darbar Sahib attack and anti-Sikh pogroms are active politicians. Forget the candles! We need to expose the truth, educate our communities, and put the architectects behind the State violence and human rights violations behind bars, as per the law.

At vigils, I've seen the tagline "Let our silence be heard." But I ask, "Why not let our voices be heard?"

I realize I'm being critical, and even a little self-critical as I've participated and organized such protests and vigils, but as 25 years have passed - we need to pause, reflect, re-strategize, and find more effective and productive ways to present our case. What if one of the presenters at this past Sunday's Academy Awards wore a "Free Punjab" T-Shirt? Even if it was a medium-famous star, there would be a buzz throughout the internet the next day on what exactly that T-Shirt was about. I'm a strong believer that if this movement gains even a hint of popularity from Non-Sikhs, Sikh supporters will come out of the woodworks.

I commend the SSA on this endeavour, and hope to see a great turnout on Friday!

Agree? Disagree? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Truth To Power

2009-02-20T00:06:00.003-05:00

Recently published on sikhchic.com under the title Public Advocacy & The Art of Being Heard

Truth To Power
by Rubin Paul Singh

Last month, Ensaaf in conjunction with the Human Rights Data Analysis Group (HRDAG) at Benetech released a groundbreaking report titled "Violent Deaths and Enforced Disappearances During the Counterinsurgency in Punjab, India."

What is unique about this report is that it does not focus on individual narratives or specific accounts of the human rights violations in Punjab, but instead provides a statistical analysis - based on quantitative research - of fatal violence across Punjab during the conflict between 1984 and 1995.

This analysis brought together six data sets comprising of more than 21,000 records. It incorporates documentation from several different fact-finding initiatives over the last two decades investigating human rights violations in Punjab, as well as the Tribune newspaper and recovered logbooks from local cremation grounds.

Using the statistical analysis as a basis, the report examines patterns and trends of violence that contradict the government's claim that lethal human rights violations in Punjab were "minor" and "random."

For example, the report found that majority of enforced disappearances and extra-judicial executions happened in 1991 and 1992, as counter-insurgency operations by Indian security forces intensified and the Punjab Police was reorganized by K.P.S. Gill. The report also notes that as state violence increased, fewer bodies of those who disappeared or were executed were returned to the next of kin. This correlates with evidence of increased "secret illegal cremations" during that same time period. The document also studies the report of so-called "encounters," which imply exchange of fire between a militant and security forces. However, evidence shows a significantly higher ratio of militants being killed than officers. This is consistent with qualitative evidence that such encounters were, in fact, faked. The report also found that victims were nearly all males between 18 and 45. Such patterns contradict the government's claim that the events were "random" or a "minor aberration."

So you may ask yourself - after collecting the data, analyzing it, and producing this report - the end result is proving the violence in Punjab was not random? The Indian authorities' claim of human rights violations in Punjab being an "aberration" is, in fact, false?

Well ... didn't we already know that?

Yes, of course.

Any Sikh who has read the accounts, heard the stories, watched the interviews, and lost family members to the violence in Punjab knows full well that these atrocities committed by the government were no aberration; they were widespread and systematic.

But up until now, most of the research has focused on individual stories and experiences. These personal narratives are powerful, heart-wrenching, and inspiring. They allow us to understand the experience of the victim's families and, more importantly, allow their voice to be heard. In order for us to heal as a community, it is essential for us to reflect and commiserate. However, if our goals are something bigger - if we intend to seek justice for the thousands of lives lost, if we are determined to change policies and hold the guilty accountable - such accounts will not be enough.

As Ram Narayan Kumar (South Asia for Human Rights) states in the report's Preface, "until the society at large is able to identify, classify and quantify the wrongs perpetrated with impunity, then accountability, reparations, and reforms will not follow."

Some may say that whether one hundred lives, one thousand lives, or ten thousand lives were lost doesn't really matter; if just one life is lost unjustly, that should be enough for public outcry.
But the world has not heard us. If we intend for these human rights violations in Punjab to reach the world stage, they must be presented in their full magnitude, based on systematic and verifiable research. As slain human rights defender Jaswant Singh Khalra said in his last international speech, "We say about 50,000 ... about one million ... the educated of the world will not accept estimates ... they want exact figures."

During a recent presentation on 1984, I quoted the number of casualties during the anti-Sikh pogroms with the lowest number I could find - in the Indian government's own White Paper. Hands quickly went up with objections that my number was too low. Participants then shouted out numbers that were four or five times as much. Perhaps they are correct, but until we have numbers based on some verifiable evidence or technical analysis, our hands are tied. Throwing out inflated or inaccurate numbers based on anecdotal evidence can only weaken our case.

Friends I've discussed this report with have said, "What good is it? Why waste the resources? Human rights lawyers seem to release books and reports every few years, but to what end do they serve? They will just end up in the shelf of a law library many years from now, collecting dust."

Years ago, Dr. Cynthia Mahmood (Associate Professor of Anthropology, University of Notre Dame) was in town speaking in a panel discussion at the University of Chicago. I was to meet her and a few of her students for coffee afterwards; since I arrived a bit early, I listened to the panel. The discussion was on torture, and the psychological and sociological effects it has on the victims, families and communities involved. I was stunned to hear that two of the panelists had done their field research specializing on Sikhs and the violence in Punjab during the 80's and 90's, and nearly all of the panelists referred to the "Punjab Conflict" in the papers they presented.
I looked around the room; I was the only Sikh in sight. I started to wonder ... where else are these panel discussions going on where the "Punjab Conflict" is being discussed? Are human rights lawyers and academics huddled around tables in conference rooms throughout the world trying to seek justice for the thousands of lives lost at the hands of the Indian government?

I started to reflect on the day I walked into my university's monthly Amnesty International meeting over a decade ago. Each month, Amnesty would send us an Urgent Action Appeal to work on. To my surprise, that month's case was the disappearance of Jaswant Singh Khalra. I was shocked! This was an appeal for a Sikh, yet neither my Sikh peers nor our gurdwara management knew anything about him. And here were these Black, White, and Chinese students diligently writing their letters to the Indian government urging them to investigate Khalra's disappearance. They didn't really care that he was a Sikh, all they knew was that an innocent human rights activist was abducted by the police, and something needed to be done.

Will such reports end up on library shelves collecting dust? I guess that's up to us.

The academics and human rights activists of the world have done the research, they have documented the facts and figures, they have done the leg work for us. They have armed us with the truth; it is now upon us to bring truth to power.

We must read such reports and present them ... anywhere and everywhere ... to anyone who will listen: our gurdwaras, our local Amnesty International chapters, student groups, talk radio, public television, newspaper op-eds, etc. We must also create awareness of these findings in whatever format we can - through music, art, theatre and poetry.

I truly hope the efforts of Ensaaf and their partners will take this case to the highest courts of the land but, as Khalra said, we must also take this to the "biggest court of all ... the court of the people." And the activist in all of us is responsibile for that.

I don't believe this report alone will be enough to hold the guilty accountable, but it does put them on notice. If the Indian authorities make lofty claims and simply dismiss the injustices committed in Punjab, it will not go unchallenged.

Ensaaf and Benetech indicate they plan to continue their research, so they can draw further statistical analysis and ultimately present the full magnitude of the conflict. I commend Ensaaf and Benetech on the release of this report and encourage them to keep the flame burning. Such reports are an invaluable stepping stone toward exposing the truth and achieving justice.

[The report, "Violent Deaths and Enforced Disappearances During the Counterinsurgency In Punjab, India," can be downloaded for free at http://www.ensaaf.org/reports/descriptiveanalysis/ ]

February 12, 2009

Magic

2009-02-19T00:25:00.006-05:00

I'm very lucky to have been involved in Sikh Gurmat camps for most of my life - as a camper, counselor, and administrator. Along the way, I've collected many stories. My friends have always told me I should document them. So here's another addition to the series I call "Camp Stories." Please comment with your own story too...

Camp Story #2: Magic

As per our routine, we would conclude our evening Divaan with a counselor singing Naam Simran, as I would periodically dismiss each group from the Divaan hall, where the campers would then head over to the cafetria for a snack before bedtime.

One night - as I dismissed a group, one of the boys stayed behind. Perhaps he did not hear me, so after I sent a few more groups on their way, I came back to the boy and again asked him to join his group outside. His eyes were closed and he was singing along with the Naam Simran. Finally, after all the campers had been dismissed - I again noticed this defiant camper had not moved. Right as I was about to tap him on the shoulder, he turned to me with tears in his eyes and said "VeerJi, I can't leave...it's too beautiful...I just can't. Please let me stay."

I believe magic happens at camp.

I'm not sure what it is about the camp environment that creates such powerful experiences. Campers create relationships - with other campers, with their Sangat...and sometimes with the Divine. As an administrator for many years, caught up in schedules and logistics, I lost sight of these magical experiences that were happening around me

As for the boy who wanted to stay back...I let him. As a matter of fact, I dropped my things and sat beside him too, and we listened to Naam Simran until it stopped. For me, the Naam Simran ended when the counselor stopped singing, but judging from the look on the boy's face, he could still hear it.

I'm not sure what compelled me to stop and sit next to him. Perhaps I longed for what he was feeling, or maybe just hoping that magic would rub off on me.

Proud To Be Six

2009-02-13T14:20:00.011-05:00

I must be getting older, because I seem to be telling a lot of stories :)

I'm very lucky to have been involved in Sikh Gurmat camps for most of my life - as a camper, counselor, and administrator. Along the way, I've collected many stories. My friends have always told me I should document them. So here's a kick-off to a new series I call "Camp Stories." Please comment with your own story too...

Camp Story #1: Proud To Be Six

I remeber the first time I was ever a counselor. I was 18 years old and my first task was to lead an orientation for the youngest kids at camp. After several unsuccesful attenpts to a lead a discussion, I went with what I knew...and just did a bunch of jakaray!

The kids were all riled up and having a blast! Then I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Are you proud to be Singhs & Kaurs of the Guru!" They all yelled out "Yeeeaaahhh!" "Are you proud to be Khalsas!" They all yelled out "Yeeeaaahhh!" "Are you proud to be Sikhs!" Silence...

I thought perhaps they didn't hear me. I said, "Are you proud to be Sikhs!" Still, silence...then all the kids started looking around at each other in confusion.

Then finally, one brave little boy raised his hand and said, "VeerJi, I'm only five." Quickly, hand after hand went up with kids saying "me too, me too...I'm only four"

After holding in my laughter and finally composing myself, I thought I would try an experiment. Although I had to cringe when I said it, I yelled out:

Are you proud to be Seeeeks! They all yelled out "Yeeeaaahhh!"

This Is Who We Are

2009-02-07T00:05:00.005-05:00

Recently published on SikhChic under the title 1984 & I:Forget? Never!

This Is Who We Are
by Rubin Paul Singh

Years ago, I was giving a local church group a tour of our gurdwara. While I was showing them around the langar hall and explaining the history and significance of langar, I noticed that I was losing my audience. It took me a second to figure it out, but it appeared they were fixated on one of the images on the wall. It was the painting we've all seen of Bhai Taru Singh being scalped and blood running down his body. I'm not sure what shocked them more - the graphic painting itself, or the five-year-old boy sitting beneath it, quietly eating his meal.

For just a second, I put myself in their shoes. I looked around the room and saw pictures of Sikh martyrs from the 18th century - a man being boiled alive, a person being sawed in half, two little boys being bricked alive, and an old man with his fingers getting chopped off.
And I thought to myself … is this really necessary, the depiction of these scenes in these surroundings?

I started to wonder: are these images really what we want to convey to our visitors? Shouldn’t we find something that depicts universality and love for humanity? Especially after 9/11, shouldn’t we be displaying a softer image of Sikhs? After all, this dining area is a place for us to share a common meal, and little children play down here, for God’s sake! Is this really appropriate?

But then it dawned on me ...

This is who we are.

Sikhi is a loving religion, with a universal message that advocates equality and human rights for all. These were revolutionary ideas during the Guru's time and preserving and strengthening these ideals under oppressive rulers came at a tremendous price. Gurus were martyred, their sons bricked alive, and countless other brave Singhs and Kaurs gave their lives for the Chardi Kalaa of the Khalsa Panth. Sometimes I look at the numbers and I am overwhelmed. Roughly 25,000 Sikhs gave their lives along with Banda Singh Bahadur, 20,000 under Zakhriya Khan's rule, 10,000 in the Vada Ghalugara (The Big Holocaust), and 60,000 at the hands of Ahmed Shah Abdali. Within half-a-century, roughly 200,000 Sikh lives were lost. Waheguru.

Such figures can be depressing, but somehow, as a child listening to the stories of our collective struggle, I felt inspired. Not by how much we've suffered, but by how much we've overcome. No matter how hard we, the Sikhs, are suppressed, we always seem to rise again ... stronger!

When I reflect on all the sacrifices, I can't help but think that every one of those lives lost, every drop of a blood was for me, so that hundreds of years later, I could confidently walk the streets - anywhere in the world - with my head held high, proudly bearing the gifts of my father.

I am not saddened, but I am in awe of how a seven-year-old and a nine-year-old held the fate of Sikhi on their shoulders and proudly gave their lives before their faith. They did it for me … they did it for us! It is these acts of sheer bravery and courage that gives me a sense of pride and a sense of purpose.

As Bhai Sukha and Bhai Jinda so eloquently wrote in their letter shortly before their execution, "Our entire nation has taken birth from the art of keeping its head on its palm." This idea is so deeply ingrained in our way of life, that every day we stand before the Guru - on happy and sad occasions - every birth, marriage, or funeral, we recount the sacrifices of our ancestors in our ardaas, "Band-band katae, khopriaan luhaaian, charkhriaan te chharhe ..." Our sacrifice and struggle is something we cherish.

But I wonder, are we losing touch?

I've noticed a growing reluctance from our organizations and institutions to fully recognize our recent history, in particular, with 1984. Over the years at Gurmat camps, retreats and the gurdwaras where I've taught Sikh history, I've encountered a lot of resistance to discussing 1984. Organizers tell me the material is "too heavy," the images "too graphic,", and the content "too controversial."

What have we become?

Why is it that we can look back through our history and take pride in events that outsiders would call horrific, but recent events are too controversial? What makes it too heavy? Is it because it is so recent? [Is the Nazi Holocaust then, too recent?] Or is it because the enemies are not "Mughals"? Or maybe because we don't understand the history ourselves? Whatever the reason may be, the result is an overwhelming number of youth who haven't a clue what happened in 1984 - it is as though it never happened. And even those who have some vague idea of what happened have no understanding of what led to the events in 1984 and the grave human rights violations that have happened since.

I understand how painful the events are, and some of the wounds haven't fully healed, but since when have we have turned into a nation that sweeps its history under the rug? We all know what happens to "those who forget their history...", and considering we are a community that has suffered several large-scale massacres throughout our short existence, one would think we would be more vigilant.

My Jewish friends tell me they were taught the graphic realities of the Holocaust at an early age. It was ingrained into their psyche. This idea of "Never Again" became part of their character. Every Jew - young or old - anywhere in the world could identify with the Holocaust. Their struggle seemed to strengthen them, individually and as a community.

While much of our community would prefer to forget 1984, I cannot - I am a product of it. At a young age, I did not have much of an interest in Sikhi, but that period of time where Sikhi was being attacked inspired me to learn more - about my faith, history and people. I wanted to know exactly what it was that all these brave men and women were willing to give their lives for. The events and personalities of 1984 and the struggle for sovereignty motivated me to learn more about Gurmat and become more conscious of human rights violations and social injustice all over the world. Instead of forgetting our history, I chose to embrace it!

And I am not alone.

There are many other "thirty-something's" in the Khalsa Panth today, who have channeled their energy and emotion inspired by 1984 into productive work for the Panth, some of whom hold leadership roles in our civil and human rights organizations - safeguarding our rights every day.

Some criticize me for "living in the past," but I refuse to let this chapter in our history pass quietly. Especially as a parent, I do not want to shield my kids from our history - even if it is sometimes "too heavy." I want my children to be just as equally inspired by the Battle of Amritsar as they are by the Battle of Chamkaur. I want them to know about the great sacrifices of the brave Singhs and Kaurs before them, so they can not only bask in the Guru's love, but understand the responsibility that comes along with it.

January 30, 2009

This I Believe

2009-02-05T23:26:00.005-05:00

In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit of an NPR junkie. One of the series I regularly listen to is called This I Believe. As the website describes, This I Believe is "based on a 1950's radio program of the same name, where Americans from all walks of life share the personal philosophies and core values that guide their daily lives."

Last week, I heard an essay that I particularly liked called "America's Beauty Is In It Diversity." It's the story of Alaa El-Saad, a 15 years-old from Austin, TX who shares her experience of wearing her Hijaab.

It's a simple story, but vividly reminded me of my experience wearing a Dastaar for the first time to school.

What's also special about this project is anyone can contribute an essay to share their beliefs. Many of these essays are selected for broadcast, posted on their website, and included in their collection of essays they reguarly publish.

Another program I listen to is StoryCorps. StoryCorps is an oral history project where Americans share life stories with family and friends in designated StoryBooths throughout the country. Each conversation is recorded on a free CD to take home and share, and is archived for generations to come at the Library of Congress.

As Sikhs living in the United States, we have amazing stories to tell. From our experiences wearing our Kakaars, the memorable conversations we've had with friends, co-workers, and even passer-bys inquiring about us, and also the difficult stories of discrimination and racism. Whatever it might be, our story needs to be told.

I encourage anyone reading this to submit your This I Believe essay or book your StoryCorp reservation today! This is an excellent opportunity to make the Sikh-American story part of the American story.

I would also love to hear comments on Alaa El-Saad's essay...take a listen

Right To Not Wear Pants

2009-02-04T10:41:00.002-05:00

Got your attention?

I've seen so many discrimination cases against Sikhs lately, that this one caught me by surprise. I wonder what precedent it might set for discrimination cases with Sikhs.

Justice, Metro Settle Religious Discrimination Suit
Associated Press Tuesday, February 3, 2009; 3:27 AM
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/02/03/AR2009020302147.html

The Justice Department has settled a lawsuit accusing Washington's transit agency of religious discrimination. The complaint filed in federal court accused Metro of discriminating against a woman of the Apostolic Pentecostal faith because she was unable to comply with Metro's uniform policy.

Gloria Jones said she wasn't hired as a bus driver because her religious beliefs prohibit her from wearing pants, which are part of the uniform.

The Justice Department announced Tuesday that Metro has agreed to pay more than $47,000 to Jones and $2,500 each to two others who say Metro didn't accommodate their beliefs.
Metro also must implement a policy to reasonably accommodate employees' religious practices and train its supervisors on religious discrimination.

The agreement still must be approved by the court.

Music

2009-01-27T20:23:00.002-05:00

Along the same theme as my last post, I heard a This American Life program a few months back called "Music Lessons." It's a mildly amusing story that perhaps musicians can appreciate more than I. However, in Act 3, about 45 minutes in to the program - a woman reflects on a recent experience she had at her church and how music created a "miracle." Her poetic account of this experience is brilliant.

When I originally heard this, I immediately thought about Keertan, and the profound impact it has had on me and many others. Gurbani is not simply words on a page, but Guru Sahib specifically prescribed a raag to each Shabad - to convey it's mood, to create that feeling and emotion he felt when writing it. How beautiful!

After listening to this, I thought about those rare moments at a Keertan Darbar or Samagam where I felt a sense of connection with the Sangat and how Keertan created that connection. It can be powerful!

I'm curious to hear what others think of the program and if anyone else has had a similar "Sangat Moment."

Amandla!

2009-01-23T10:17:00.002-05:00

Years ago, I watched this beautiful documentary called Amandla (Xhosa word for “power”)

It chronicles the struggle of the Black South Africans when the apartheid government came to power in 1948. It also covers the decades of increasing violence and repression, then finally "victory" in 1994 when Nelson Mandela became South Africa’s first democratically chosen president.

I've always been fascinated with the Black South African movement against apartheid and have read, listened, and watched much about it. What was so unique about this film was it focused on the music of the movement, and how the power of song was used to communicate, motivate, console, unite and, ultimately, beget change.

I really connected with this film as it made me think about Shabad Keertan and in particular - Vaars, and how it may have been used to motivate and inspire the Khalsa during battle. I would strongly recommend this documentary for a film discussion at any Gurmat camp or retreat. If anyone has seen it, I would love to hear your review!

Remembering Dr. King

2009-01-19T01:59:00.005-05:00

Through the years, I've had many debates with Sikh friends over Dr. King's non-violent philosophy, but regardless of what one might feel about his beliefs, there are several apects about his life and work that are of note.

He was an amazing orator and had a remarkable ability to articulate the struggle, and inspire people to action. He was not simply a demagogue or a symbol of the movement, but lived on the front lines. He participated at the grass-roots level, whether it was marching in Selma or courting arrest in Birmingham. He was not a "self-professed" leader, but he worked…tirelessly…and was the first to take a risk or make a sacrifice when called upon. And through this, he earned the respect of his peers and became a leader. To quote a line from my favorite movie Braveheart, "Men don't follow titles, they follow courage."

What I admire most about Dr. King was his vision - and his ability to pour himself completely in to a movement that he knew he would never see the outcome of. But the foundation he laid was so strong, it was able to carry on without him. This was the genius of Dr. King. And over time, so much of his "dream" has been realized, even in our present day.

Perhaps this is something Sikh leaders and "leaders-to-be" can reflect upon.
What can we learn from Dr. King's life and work for the Sikh Nation to realize it's full potential?

His famous "I Have a Dream" speech will likely be played on television and radio stations all day throughout the country. I've heard it in its entirety several times and it still gives me goose bumps. But another one that I find particularly powerful was his famous "Mountaintop" speech. Amidst several death threats, he delivered this on April 3, 1968 at the Mason Temple in Memphis, Tennessee. Here is a video of his closing words, which would turn out to be his last public speech, as he was assassinated hours later.

Saroop

2009-01-18T23:59:00.002-05:00

Place your hand upon my head, my Friend
That I may be an embodiment of your wisdom
That I may epitomize your strength
That I may personify your courage
That I may represent your virtues
That I may be an example of your character
That I may be an expression of your grace
That I may be an incarnation of your truth
That I may be a manifestation of your love

Floetry

2009-01-05T23:14:00.005-05:00

An article of mine recently published on sikhchic under the title, The Mane of a Lion. I prefer my original title...

Floetry
by Rubin Paul Singh

While on a road trip this past summer, my seven-year-old niece asked me a question that caught me off guard. She asked:

"Mama ji, why don't you tie your beard?"

To be honest, it wasn't something I had thought much about, so it wasn't easy to come up with a quick answer, let alone one that would satisfy an inquiring seven-year-old.
With little thought, I quickly responded: "Because I want to look like my heroes." She didn't ask any more questions. The answer seemed to satisfy her, but I wasn't sure if it satisfied me; perhaps it needed a little more thought.

Like many young boys born and raised in the U.S., my bedroom reflected all of my interests, and its walls paid homage to many of my heroes. I was an avid sports fan - so, the likes of Michael Jordan, Walter Payton and John Riggins adorned a wall.

But as the mid-80's approached, my interests shifted. Unrest was growing in Punjab and I became inspired to learn more about my faith and my history.

From the moment I began delving into our rich past, I was captivated! The more I read, the more fascinated I was, not only by the Gurus and their lives, but also by the brave generals who came after the period of the Gurus. They fought intense battles against injustice and for the sovereignty of the Khalsa Panth. Soon enough, the pictures of my sports heroes came down, and images of Banda Singh Bahadur, Baba Deep Singh, and Maharaja Ranjit Singh made their way onto my walls. My room became a shrine to Sikh leaders and battlefield heroes, like Hari Singh Nalwa, Jassa Singh Ahluwalia, and Akali Phula Singh.

Given the political climate at the time and my study of the Sikh struggle of the 1980's, the likes of modern-day generals such as Baba Jarnail Singh, Bhai Amrik Singh, and General Shubeg Singh made their way to my wall.

As I got older and broadened my learning, pictures of Giani Ditt Singh, Prof. Puran Singh, and Bhai Vir Singh were also proudly displayed. Often times, I would daydream gazing at my wall, and I would think of all that these charismatic leaders, brave soldiers and amazing personalities had in common - their sheer courage, their ability to overcome adversity, their commitment to their faith, and their passion for Sikhi. But at a quick glance, you would notice the one thing that stood out automatically - they all had long, flowing beards!

Since then, I have found the "khullih-dharrih" look to be both regal and impressive. I know you cannot judge a book by its cover and "baana" alone does not define your character, but at a completely superficial level, I find it beautiful!

The flowing beard is like poetry to me ... or, as I call it, "Floetry."

Perhaps because it reminds me of what my Gurus must have looked like, and of their personality and their character, and their ability to re-mould society.

Whenever I see someone similar at the gurdwara, at a nagar kirtan, in downtown, or at the mall, I feel a connection. I am overwhelmed - and I find a deeper appreciation for my own kakaars.
People may have many theories as to why Guru Sahib gifted this to us, but to me, I believe it is to give me just this feeling and emotion. I remember years ago, while on a business trip in New Zealand, stopped at a traffic light, I looked over and spotted another driver with a beautiful kesri dastaar and a khullah dharrah! I don't know what came over me - but it brought tears to my eyes. There I was, far from home, far from my sangat - but this image alone, connected me to my Gurus, to my heroes, and to my history.

Although I have chosen to let my beard flow at Sikh functions for years, I finally decided to stop tying it at work, as well. This may seem like a small deal to most, but regardless of my admiration of the khullih dharrih look, it was still something I was conscious about for myself. But with my wife's encouragement, I was able to "take the plunge" and can say that I've been gel- and hairspray-free for over a year.

Thank God!

It's been an interesting transition. When walking through the mall or in the city, sure, I do get a few extra stares, and maybe a few more ignorant comments than before, but for every negative, I receive just as many positive comments. Sometimes children will come up to me and tell me they like my beard. Often times the "follicle-challenged" would explain how hard they've tried to grow a beard like mine and failed. And I especially like it when fellow bearded-men smile and nod with a look of camaraderie and brotherhood, as though we are part of some secret society.
It's pretty amusing. I never had these interactions before.

So, when I think back on when my niece asked me why I didn't tie my beard, I wish I could say there was something philosophical or spiritual to it, but the truth is, there isn't. Perhaps it is the kid in me who just wants to look like his heroes, or it is the adult in me who is trying to live up to what his heroes stood for, or maybe just the Sikh in me, who loves his faith, and wants to shout it out from a mountaintop.

January 2, 2009