Spirit Of The Sikh

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

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.

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.

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?

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…

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.

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

“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

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.

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.