For many Sikh youth of the 1980’s, Bhangra was the answer to their search for identity.
In many sleepy towns in Canada, Bhangra routines at Diwali and Vaisakhi were part of the upbringing of Sikh kids. It was through these festivals that parents aspired to transmit their heritage. After the trauma of 1984, Bhangra and its joyous performance became the badge of identity for many Sikh youth: a current invocation of that famous declaration that we are not Hindus and we are not Muslims.
In the same decade there was an explosion of Sikh symbols. Karas and Khandas were worn extravagantly. Sikh youth were strutting their past which they now began to explore with greater fervour. Speaking Punjabi became cool; how else to understand the boliyans. Parents were happy. Sikh culture had been preserved – at least for some kids. They immersed themselves in Sikhi; becoming, as Professor Puran Singh would say, the naam-dyed Khalsa. For them, the ideal was to be the Sant-Sipahi – the balanced person fully engaged in this world (as the Gurus had envisioned their Khalsa). But for the many, what culture, what tradition and what symbols? And who were the teachers? Nobody seemed to ask these questions. Instead, there was money to be made; political battles to be fought.
Meanwhile the children danced and played.
A decade later some of these parents in British Columbia (“B.C.”) were wringing their hands in grief. Their boys were killing other boys, mostly Sikhs, as a result of gang warfare. As Hip-Hop and Bhangra converged, so did needless violence. Sikh popular culture had found a new pied piper. A gang research specialist, Mark Totten, examined gang violence, including that involving Sikhs, in B.C. Totten, although not specifically referencing Sikhs, remarked on the “hyper-masculine” nature of the killings; attributing the extreme violence to culture clashes and the absence of healthy male role models. “Many have deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy. They desperately want to belong to mainstream Canada, yet they are caught between two worlds: they are not white like Caucasian youth, nor are they black like African-Canadian youth.”
A compelling rationale for the extremely violent behaviour of Sikh boys emerges in Baljit Sangra’s fine documentary “Warrior Boyz”. One of the key characters is a reformed gangster (now an aspiring human rights lawyer). He demystifies aspects of his trade wrongly glorified in Sikh popular culture – the songs and the Bollywood movies. (There is no glory in breaking kneecaps in early morning hours). After displaying a gash across his chest; he continues with a critical observation. Social justice is as central to the Sikh psyche as is the martial tradition. But the martial tradition was all that Sikh youth (not boys alone since there were gangs such as the “Khanda Queens”) flouted – as if this was the totality of the Sikh experience. The celebration of a history of protecting the rights of others-the very marrow of the Sikh identity-had been hijacked by the Sikh – as – aggressive- warrior motif. Hence the muscular karas and the hyper aggressive violence.
Somehow that essential observation had defied a generation. The parents’ knowledge of Sikhism was seriously flawed- a product of ignorance of their history and a mischievous propagation of stereotypes by majority cultures. The Sikh as the martial arm of the Hindu religion caricature ignores the centrality of the Sikh as thinker in the Sikh tradition. Indeed to be a Sikh – or sishya – is to have a commitment to lifelong learning. More so it underscores the critical difference between Sikhs and their other co-religionists in India. The constant need to question authority is a fundamental Sikh trait which perhaps is the source of their remarkable adaptability.
Lost beneath the surface of the Sikh identity are the histories that should reverberate today. Stories such as those of the fifty two poets who were part of the entourage of the last of the Great Masters; that the Gurus themselves were scholars, conversant with major intellectual themes. Stories of the central role that people of arts and letters played in the Sikh renaissance (the Singh Sabha movement) of the late 19th century. And most importantly, that Sikhs were exponents of non violent civil disobedience at a time when Gandhi had not yet demonstrated the power of that force in India. The ability of Sikhs to attempt to gain control of their Gurdwaras from the British in the 1920’s through non violent means was a remarkable feat.
And yet the community did not always lack vision. Almost a century ago, the nascent Sikh community in BC-numbering some 5,000 and of relatively little formal education- had the foresight to invite Teja Singh, a Sikh savant; to pay for his education at a prestigious university; and then to have him lead the community in all things secular. The community was well aware of how the majority community viewed them, and was determined to have a sophisticated Teacher.
That was in the 1980s. The effort to portray Sikhi in an authentic manner must continue. The community could adopt many motifs. To cite one, Sikhs are a People of the Book. Jews, Muslims and Christians have self-identified in this fashion to imply that their faith is founded on serious scriptural bedrock. Yet the “Book” of the Sikhs-the Guru Granth Sahib- is more recent, also divinely revealed and, importantly, was authenticated by the Gurus during their lifetime. It has nurtured the cultivated mind in discourse and dialogue while grounding the student in a good dose of faith. Furthermore, the Guru Granth Sahib, in that had contributors from different faiths, speaks to inter-faith harmony- a need of the day.
An imperfect understanding of the balance in the sant-sipahi matrix led one generation of Sikh youth down a path of destruction; such was its obsession with the martial tradition. The balance, however, may yet be restored by a pursuit of social justice in tandem with the right to self-determination as portended by our reformed gangster.
One ardently hopes that the raag of contemplation and peace – the rhythm of the Gurus – may find a strain in Bhangra beat. And that the dance of the Sikhs reflects their spiritual fervour as well as their joie-de vivre.
