Spirit Of The Sikh

If you know me well, you know I love hip hop.

Not sure whether it was the time period I was born or how it lined up perfectly with the heyday of hip hop music, but nevertheless, it was the soundtrack of my childhood.  And although much has changed since then, my affinity towards the genre has stayed consistent to this day.  So you can imagine how thrilled I was when Netflix notified me of a new documentary called “Hip Hop Evolution.”  Of course, I watched it that night.

I would often get in debates with other enthusiasts about rap legends and argue for hours over who the real pioneers of the movement were.  Was it the Sugarhill Gang?  Grandmaster Flash? Run DMC? Kurtis Blow? But after I watched the documentary, I learned the origins of hip hop came from somewhere else.  While most of America was obsessed with disco music, wearing fancy clothes in the hottest clubs, teenagers were going to parties held in rec rooms hosted by DJ Kool Herc on the West side of the Bronx.  Kool Herc refused to play records with the popular music of the time and instead went back to the roots of soul and funk.  And when songs would get to the breakdown, he would extend the break beat, sometimes playing two copies of the same record going back and forth to extend it, almost to the point where he was creating a new song.  Pair that with Coke La Rock who hyped the crowd with the mic, and lo and behold…a movement was born.

Where I had thought rap was born when Run DMC busted into the Top 40, it was actually a DJ and MC I never heard of going against the grain at house parties in the Bronx, with unique sounds and innovative techniques that would set the foundation for a revolution.

Revolutions are kind of like that.

Often times what makes the headlines or hits the history books are those prolific leaders and the milestone events, but that’s rarely where revolutions begin.  When I think of the Civil Rights movement, I think Dr King, Malcolm X, the March on Washington, and Selma.  But if you peel back the layers, I believe there would have been none of it had Rosa Parks not refused to give up her seat on the bus in Montgomery, Alabama or Ruby Bridges not gone to class that day to desegregate an all-white school in New Orleans.  In the larger scheme of things, these may not seem like momentous acts, but they were simple acts of courage that paved the way for the revolution to come

Even when I look at some of the most powerful moments in Sikh history –  Guru Tegh Bahadur Sahib’s shaahedi, the first Parkash of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji or the establishment of Khalsa Panth to name a few – I know all of this began with Guru Nanak Sahib refusing to wear a janeeoo, or having dialogue with the siddhs, or splashing water the other direction in Hardwar.  Simple acts of courage…this is how revolutions are born.

And the revolution within is no different.

One definition of a revolution, is “a fundamental change in the way of thinking about or visualizing something :  a change of paradigm.”  Personally, as I strive towards gurmat, I have no doubt it requires a revolution.  It requires a fundamental change in the way I look at the world.  To stop looking through my own lens, and to start looking at the world through a guru-centered lens.  It requires me to minimize the “I” and see Waheguru’s wonder in everything.  To live a “happy” life not through the standards of social norms, but based on Guru Sahib’s paradigm for living.

But like most revolutions, they do not happen overnight.  In fact, those revelations that happen quickly are often the first to fizzle out.  Revolutions are not born through grand gestures, they are seeds that are planted, and cultivated over time through simple acts of courage.  For a Sikh those simple acts can range from embracing the physical form, to following the discipline, or passing the most subtle of tests that I find myself running into so frequently.

It’s the decision I make to say something or not after I hear a misogynistic comment with friends.  Or the racist comment I hear people of color make.

Isn’t it enough to just walk away?  After all, I didn’t say it.

Or is that extra effort I could take to make sure a marginalized person is heard?
Or deciding whether or not to be an ally for someone in need, even if it puts myself at risk.  Or making the unpopular decision that I know is right, at the risk of losing friends.

It’s these small decisions when no one is looking that hangs my Sikhi in the balance.

Simple acts of courage.

I often read these “good parenting” articles, that tell me I should stop asking my kids “how their day was” and ask them something different:
“What did you do that was compassionate today?”
“What did you do that was courageous or brave today?”

I’ve started doing this.
And also requested they ask me the same.
It is a daily measure that tests whether I am really part of the movement or just watching it pass by.

As I take a stock of where I am and how far I need to go to join Guru Nanak’s revolution, I am often disheartened.

But my Guru, in his impeccable timing, reminds me to worry not…for Spring has come.

When I was assigned to teach a history class at a Sikh youth camp this Summer, I was nervous.

For years, I’ve been trying to focus on learning and teaching gurmat, so the idea of going back to memorizing names and dates was intimidating.  But after dusting off a few books and re-learning about our 18th century heroes – Baba Banda Singh Bahadur, Bhai Mani Singh, Bhai Taru Singh, and so many more…I was captivated.  And although part of me re-read history with the same excitement and curiosity as a child, another part of me read it through the lens of our current day challenges.

As far back as I can remember, I would teach Sikh history with an immense sense of pride…perhaps even with a touch of entitlement. I would speak about how honor and valor were traits we inherited directly from our Guru and all of the shaheeds that followed.  I would speak of the lineage of bravery and courage that we came from, where our ancestors stood up to the most heinous of oppressors. I spoke about Sikh history as though heroism ran through our blood.  As though by growing up in a Sikh family, we’ve inherited a trait of fearlessness that somehow made us more special.

These days…I’m not so sure. Reflecting on the Khalsa of the 18^th century has given me pause.

From living day to day with a price on your head, from surviving life in the jungles with nothing, to sleeping on horseback – all while fighting tyranny and remaining in a state of chardi kalaa…it’s overwhelming. After the vada ghalugara, where historians quote one-third to nearly half of the Sikh population was completely wiped out, it would only be a matter of months before the Khalsa would capture Sirhind, then Amritsar, and ultimately Lahore, all while carrying out campaigns to free thousands of men & women from slavery.  Even in our most difficult of times with the most limited of resources, we were defending the defenseless. I am fascinated by their resilience.

If we look at the lives and sacrifices of Bhai Taru Singh, Baba Deep Singh, Mai Bhago, and so many others, it is clear to me – they earned their right to be in the pages of Sikh history.
They earned their right to be displayed on the walls of our gurdwaras and homes of Sikhs all over the world for centuries.
They earned the right to have their lives memorialized in bedtime stories for every Sikh child.
They earned it.

I, however, have earned nothing.

I believe that our shaheeds did not give their lives so hundreds of years later we could bask in their glory, instead, they gave their lives so we can create our own glory…today.

And today, when I read sad and depressing news, I often think, ”What would the Khalsa do?”  I don’t know for sure…but history tells me they would be at the Standing Rock Indian Reservation protesting the Dakota Access Pipeline
History tells me they would be on the ground in Aleppo
History tells me they would be aiding refugees stranded across Europe.
History tells me they would be arm in arm with #BlackLivesMatter protestors throughout the US
…and so many more struggles, the worst of them, which will never make international headlines. If there’s one thing I’m convinced of, it’s that the world needs the Khalsa now more than ever.

When teaching Sikh history, I focus heavily on the time Sikhs organized themselves in misls, made tough decisions and resolved conflict through Sarbat Khalsa.  And how the commitment to Guru Granth & Guru Panth moved us forward as a nation.  This is a time where we seemed invincible.  I often refer to it as the “glory days.”

But I wonder, how long will I have to keep bringing up slides of 18th century Sikhs to talk about how spirited we were?

A hundred years from now, I hope my great-great-grand children are not pointing at those same slides that I do today.  Instead, I want them to talk about the early 21st century Sikhs and how they transformed the panth.  I want them to say…

They were the generation that wiped out drugs in Punjab
They were the generation who stood side by side with minority communities in protest all throughout the US
They were the ones who freed all the Sikh Political prisoners
They were the ones who showed up first when natural disaster struck
They were the generation that ended farmer suicides
They were the generation who opened their homes to refugees when the rest of the world turned them away
They were the generation that re-instituted the Sarbat Khalsa
They were the generation that made gender equality in Sikhi more than a principle, but a practice, the way Guru Sahib intended
They were the ones who put the architects of the 1984 pogroms in jail
They were the ones who ended the global water crisis
They were the ones who ended the ban on women doing keertan and seva at Darbar Sahib
They were the generation that reminded us…that we were sovereign
…those first few decades of the 21st century were an inflection point for the Sikh qaum, and the Sikhs of that generation answered the call.  Those were the glory days.

When I shared these thoughts with my class and asked, “what it’s going to take for us to be the generation that turned things around?“…a hand went up, and the answer was “We need to educate!” And for the first time ever, I said that answer was wrong.  Truth is…it’s going to take more than education.  It is going to take more than awareness.  For Sikhs to rise to the challenges that stand before us, both as a qaum and to solve broader problems in the world…we need ideas, we need creativity, we need action, we need grit, and most of all…we need to hold one another accountable.  We may not have inherited courage and bravery from our heroes and sheroes of the past, but our Gurus and champions of Sikh history surely set an example. They have cleared a path for us…now all we need to do is walk it.

I call you to form the Saviour-people, the Khalsa, the Guru’s own, the fragrant companionship of the Knights of Heaven. – Prof. Puran Singh

It was around 3:30am on November 10th aboard Amtrak to NYC that I was finally able to connect to the live stream Sarbat Khalsa being held in Chabba village on the outskirts of Amritsar.  Immediately, the sights and sounds of the gathering took me in, reminiscent of the 1986 Sarbat Khalsa video I had watched dozens of times before.  And as each of the resolutions were announced, I had whispered a jakara to myself and felt a sense of hope and optimism for the panth that I hadn’t felt for a long time.  I was overwhelmed.

But as the day passed and the euphoria wore off, I began to wonder how so many of the views I held in minority over the years and debated endlessly with other Sikhs all of a sudden became the views of the global panth.  It made me wonder how representated the deliberations were leading up to the Sarbat Khalsa – not only by gender and geography, but also schools of thought.  One of the beautiful ideals of the Sarbat Khalsa that I’ve grown to admire is the ability for Sikhs with different views to come together and deliberate for as long as needed in the presence of the Guru and reach a consensus to move the panth forward.  With 30 years in between Sarbat Khalsas, how much deliberation and debate could have taken place in matter of a couple days?

Like many of you, I spent the next days and weeks having discussions with anyone I could about the Sarbat Khalsa.  Some I spoke to felt it was perfect.  It was the voice of the Guru and anybody who dare criticize it is anti-panthic and anti-Sikh.  Then some on the other side of the spectrum felt the numbers were far lower than reported, the protocol fell short of a true Sarbat Khalsa, and politicians seeking votes hijacked the entire event. Some felt it was too political, others felt it was not political enough.  And as you can imagine there were a myriad of opinions in between, all from well-intentioned and panthic-minded Sikhs.  I think I felt a little of all these views over the past month, but surprisingly, the one feeling that has never left, is that sense of hope.  Having seen more Sikh movements fail than succeed over my years, it is easy to be cynical, but this time…I couldn’t be.

While the Sarbat Khalsa might have fallen off most of our Facebook feeds and Twitter timelines, a handful of young Sikhs from the DMV (DC, MD, VA area) have been consistently meeting to establish a local Misl where Sikhs will discuss, deliberate, and pass resolutions on panthic matters all per the Sarbat Khalsa tradition and protocol.  Last Saturday, I attended a meeting where the DMV Misl gathered to review the guidelines on how it will function – from how issues/ideas will be submitted, how they will be discussed, how people can raise objections, and how they will be resolved. We spent over 6 hours reviewing every word of the guidelines to make sure everyone in attendance was in agreement.  The meeting was made up of representatives of different gurdwaras (something only youth can pull off), different Sikh institutions, and of everyday Sikhs – men, women, young, old, Punjabi, not Punjabi, Amritdhari, and not-Amritdhari.  And as painful as it was for an old-school guy like me to sit through hours and hours nitpicking a document, it made me wonder about the early days of the Singh Sabha lahir, or what those early discussions might have been like when the rehat maryada was drafted.

Reflecting on the uprising we’ve seen in Punjab over the last few months, it dawned on me how important this exercise is – this is what is missing!  As a panth, we have voiced our discontent with the status quo, the imbalance of justice, lack of economic opportunity, the corruption of politicians, and so much more…but how do we organize and move forward?  The establishment of the Misl gives us the platform to do so at a local level.  And with Guru’s grace, these Misls can be replicated elsewhere, and hopefully connected to a global network so we can truly revive the Guru-gifted tradition of Sarbat Khalsa that has guided us through our darkest of times.

During the meeting, I was reminded of a passage of one of my favorite books “Up From Slavery” by Booker T. Washington.  In this autobiography, Washington speaks from the unique perspective as a child near the abolishment of slavery in the US.  He recalls the actual days leading up to the day they were freed.

“As the great day drew nearer, there was more singing in the slave quarters than usual. It was bolder, had more ring, and lasted later into the night. Most of the verses of the plantation songs had some reference to freedom. True, they had sung those same verses before, but they had been careful to explain that the “freedom” in these songs referred to the next world, and had no connection with life in this world. Now they gradually threw off the mask, and were not afraid to let it be known that the “freedom” in their songs meant freedom of the body in this world.”

Similarly, the idea of “Panth Ki Jeet” has always held special significance to me.  But it was a concept that was either deeply embedded in history or somewhere far out in the future, almost to the point where it is purely symbolic. But as the meeting ended and we stood for Ardaas, I reconnected with these words, they sounded different to me…they were bolder, had more ring.  A wave of emotion came over me; it fell like Guru Sahib’s hand was on our shoulder, reminding us that our time is now.

Several of the youth in the DMV Misl were my students at one point or another at various camps, retreats, and khalsa schools.  But on Saturday, I was the student.  And what I learned from everyone there was the power of Guru-inspired dialogue and what it allows us to achieve individually and as a qaum.  I learned that through perseverance, patience, and humility – our potential is limitless.

This evening, Sikhs from the DC Metro area gathered at Lafayette Park in front of the White House to stand in solidarity with Bapu Surat Singh Khalsa and the Sikh political prisoners languishing in Indian jails beyond the terms of their prison sentences.

It was nostalgic…

I remember being a kid 25 years ago standing in that same park, protesting the atrocities of 1984 and the human rights violations that followed.  Back then, we would shout at the top of our lungs, demanding the Indian government give us justice.  For me, tonight wasn’t about issuing any demands.  Personally…I’m done with that.

Bhai Sukha & Bhai Jinda said “The Khalsa does not worship power, rather it enters history by empowering itself.”

Tonight, if even with a handful of Sikhs over a short period of time…we empowered ourselves.

There’s a saying, “They tried to bury us.  But they didn’t know we were seeds.”  Seeing all the young people who organized and led the event tonight made me realize what these seeds have blossomed into.

The passionate speeches and thundering naaray sent a clear message to the Indian state…

We’re watching you
We will not be silenced
We will continue to raise our voices
And soon enough, the whole world will be watching you
And you will be exposed for the fake democracy that you are…as Sikhs have known from the beginning

The fact that majority of the attendees were born long after 1984 inspires me, it gives me comfort that the rebellious spirit Guru Sahib has bestowed upon us is alive and kicking

It shows that we will not forget
That we will not sit quietly
That we will not “sweep it under the rug”
Or just “let go of the past”

We are Sikhs of Guru Nanak
And we’re not going anywhere
Until justice is served

#FreeSikhPoliticalPrisoners #BapuSuratSinghKhalsa #DCForBapu

My form is but a statue, a dumb gratitude for the knot of Friendship tied by those Kings of Eternity, the Gurus who came to the Punjab, The Saviours who were gracious to love me and made me a home in the Realm of Eternal Beauty (Prema Singh, The Song of the Sikh)

An eager student approached the master violinist and asked, “Please master, can you teach me how to play the violin?” The master replied, “Have you ever played a violin before?” After a pause, the student responded, “Yes, I learned a little as a child.” The master quickly retorted, “Then sorry, I cannot help you.”

The confused student was almost sure his familiarity with the instrument and prior learning would have served as an advantage to the master, but the master was wise enough to know, that the work to un-do the student’s prior learning would have been too much of an effort. Instead, he would have preferred to work with a “clean slate.”

Reflecting on gurbani these days, I often feel like the confused student. I come to the master’s door step, bowing before Him, symbolically saying, “I am nothing, you are everything…fill me with your wisdom.” But let’s face it…my mind is already filled. It is filled with my knowledge, my experiences, my intellect and…my baggage. What room have I really left for gurmat? Shouldn’t I be coming to him with a clean slate?

It’s an interesting dichotomy we as Sikhs face. Like many of you, I am judged and measured at work, school, and so many other aspects of my life by my intellect and experiences. My ability to demonstrate my knowledge is how I try to give myself an edge over the others.  But when it comes to my Sikhi, none of that matters. I need to let go of all of that and see the world through Guru’s lens, not my own. I need to submit to his way of thinking, not my own. I know this makes me, and perhaps some of you uncomfortable, but Guru Sahib does not mince words. He makes it clear where gurmat fits in the gursikh’s life

Guru Raam Daas Ji shares in his experience:

I am blind, ignorant and totally without wisdom; how can I walk on the Path?
I am blind – O Guru, please let me grasp the hem of Your robe, so that servant Nanak may walk in harmony with you

And as Bhatt Nall writes:

So speaks Nall the poet; with your eyes, make Him your Guru; with the words you speak, make Him your Guru, your true Guru

So where do my experiences and intellect play in to gurmat? Is it a roadblock on my path toward the guru? Or is it necessary in order to process and understand gurmat, and turn the word in to action? I don’t know for sure, but my thoughts take me to a simple cup of tea…

An empty cup, a mere vessel
Essential to hold the tea, but an empty cup serves no purpose
In that cup lies a lone sugar cube
The sugar cube knows not of the cup or vice versa
But when the tea is poured in
The personality of the cup changes
It carries a fragrance
It brings warmth
And inside it, the sugar cube no longer exists on its own
It merges with the tea, you cannot separate it
And anyone who sips from that cup
All they taste is sweet

O My Guru, please fill me with your naam baani,
so that I can carry such a fragrance
so that I may bring warmth
so that my actions are sweet
So I may see the world through your eyes

Over the next few nights, Sikhs all over the world will be heading to their Gurdwaras or joining in sangat to remember the lives, bravery, and martyrdom of the chotay sahibzadey.  In our household, this has taken on extra meaning this year, as the recent blockbuster film Chaar Sahibzaadey has brought the personality of Guru Gobind Singh Ji’s sons to life and inspired us all.  I have closely followed the discussion of the film and even some of the debate…in particular, the portrayal of Mata Gujri Ji. Now this is not a critique of the film, but an attempt to engage in a broader dialogue.

Over the years teaching Sikh history to children, I’ve struggled with the story of Mata Guri Ji.  When I read history, I see Mata Gujri Ji along with Guru Tegh Bahadur Sahib as the ones who shaped young Gobind Rai, the warrior-poet, who would ultimately become the father of the Khalsa.  And even with the difficult circumstances after Guru Tegh Bahadur’s shaheedi, Mata Gujri Ji played a critical role in managing affairs of the panth and inspired the soldiers at the Battle of Bhangani.  She also played an instrumental role in the training and upbringing of her grandsons.  And when Mata Gujri Ji and the chotay sahibzadey were held captive in the thanda burj for days, it was she who recited baani for them and inspired them through stories of their grandfather, father, and gurus before them.  It was she who motivated them to remain firm in their faith, so much so that when the entire fate of the khalsa panth rested on their shoulders – a 7 and 9 year old – they responded fearlessly, with such courage and bravery that they continue to inspire the Sikh nation 300 years later.  So when the worried Mata Gujri Ji, upon learning of the execution of her grandsons, is so overcome with emotion that she faints and dies…it gives me pause.

There is a part of me that appreciates the movie’s portrayal of Mata Gurji Ji.  After all, she was a human being who suffered incredible losses.  Humans are complex and it’s perfectly reasonable that she can be the stoic matriarch, yet still feel pain and sadness.  But there’s also a part of me that thinks something else…maybe we have it wrong.

In one of the debates over Facebook on the portrayal of Mata Gujri Ji in the film, a friend said “You have to know true Gursikhs in order to portray them.” This thought resonated with me and made me reflect.  As human beings, our perceptions of things are bounded by our knowledge. And more so than our knowledge…our experiences.  Sikh history is no different; we can connect with it only as far as our boundaries will take us.  So perhaps as educators, storytellers, and filmmakers…our experiences have limited us.

In my pre-teen years, when I was exposed to the rehat maryada for the first time, I couldn’t imagine Sikhs actually living this discipline “to the letter.”  I could only picture images in my head of the “puratan singhs” who lived like this. And so I would dismiss the rehat, calling it “outdated” and more of a “guideline” than a code.  But then I ventured out of my circle, and I met Gursikhs who lived this discipline – to the letter – from waking up at amritvela, engrossed in simran, reciting baani, and interacting with others with such love that you knew you were in the company of guru-centered Sikhs. After this experience, this “ideal” image of the Sikh all of a sudden didn’t feel so distant.  Sometimes I reflect on the torture of Bhai Sati Daas, Bhai Mati Das and Bhai Dayala Ji at the hands of Aurangzeb and it’s incomprehensible.  But after speaking to Singhs who withstood horrific torture by the hands of the Indian State in the 80’s and 90’s, my perspective sharpens and I look at stories of shaheedi throughout our history with a different lens.  It all feels much closer. And when I listen to the accounts of mothers throughout the 80’s and 90’s whose fathers, husbands, and sons were taken or murdered before their eyes and they live on to speak with courage and remain in the chardi kalaa, I think to myself…that is Mata Gujri Ji.

So the lesson I’ve taken from this is simple, in fact it’s one my Guru tells me multiple times a day…be in the company of Gursikhs.  It will expand my boundaries.  It will not only help me connect with my Guru, but also connect me with my history in a way I never have before.

As a child growing up, I heard sakhi after sakhi of Guru Nanak Sahib’s life – from his childhood, to his travels, to the odd conversations with various holy men – but for whatever reason, I connected with none of it.  However, at the same time I was developing an interest in social justice and became fascinated with the life and works of activists like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and Nelson Mandela.  I wasn’t interested in Sikh history…I was interested in revolutionaries.  But when I was finally able to connect the two and learned about “Guru Nanak The Revolutionary”, it all made sense…and I was hooked!  To this day, there is not a shabad I hear from Guru Sahib’s baani that doesn’t challenge me to rebel.

Rebel against caste discrimination
Rebel against gender inequality
Rebel against the oppressors of minorities
Rebel against empty ritual
Rebel against the inner enemies that keep us disconnected from Him (kaam, krodh, lobh, mob, ahankar)

Every way in which society was designed to suppress an individual, to limit their potential, to leave them powerless, Guru Sahib found a way to take the common man or woman –  uplift them, empower them, and enable them with  a connection to the Supreme, so they could ultimately challenge that very establishment that suppressed them.

This is Guru Nanak the revolutionary…and it’s the Guru Nanak I know.

But this time of year, the anniversary of his birth, is always unsettling for me.

When I look around, I see a celebration – not of Guru Nanak the revolutionary, but a caricature of him…a portly pacifist who’s become the symbol of “inclusivity.”  An old wise man who’s teachings have been replaced with our own anecdotes and opinions.  The image below making its way around the internet is symbolic of this.

Where did this quotation come from?

Is this the same Guru that said Hukam Rajaee Chalna, Nanak Likhia Naal (O Nanak, it is written that you shall obey the Hukam of His command, and walk the way of His will)

Is this the same Guru that said Bin Satgur Kinai Na Paeeo Bin Satgur Kinai Na Paeea (Without the true guru, no one has obtained Him; without the true Guru, no one has obtained him)

Is this the same Guru that said Jo Tau Prem Khelan Ka Chao, Sir Dhar Thali Gali Meri Aou (If you desire to play this game of love with Me, then step on to my path with your head in hand)

Humble The Poet said it best this week,

This #gurpurb let’s practice some independent thought, and not digest a quote simply because it’s cute & someone put it beside an artist rendition of what Baba Nanak might have looked like. I don’t know who put those words together, but they weren’t Baba Nanak.

Refuting this quotation doesn’t take away from Sikhi’s universal message or seeing the “one-ness” in all of humanity.  But if there is one clear message I get from Guru Sahib’s baani, it is to follow your Guru and live his teachings…and we don’t need to hide from that.

So for this year’s gurpurab, let us not water down Guru Sahib’s message to the lowest common denominator, just so we can be festive and feel good about ourselves, let’s instead take an opportunity to awaken the Guru Nanak inside ourselves….to learn and reflect, to question and challenge, and to fearlessly stand with those who are marginalized, the same way Guru Sahib did and with the same humility and divinity in which he did it.  Perhaps this is the best birthday gift we can offer…

This post was inspired by Jaswant Zafar’s beautiful poem titled “Nanak.”  Never has something that sounded so beautiful felt like such a hard slap to the face.  Take a listen and spend the 4 minutes…you’ll be glad you did.