More Thoughts Of A Sleepless Night

As I write this, I have just gotten back from my daily walk, in fact I am still breathing heavily. A strange walk today. The naam-jap just refused to come, so I turned on my wrist radio - and the earbuds kept falling out of my ears. Then I stumbled over the body of a dead crow. (Death is easier than life.) I started remembering last night and a brilliant thought came to my mind: Why not a post for the Khaliblog?

So here you are.

Another sleepless night. Nothing worked. I tried muscle relaxation, I tried soothing music, I tried warm milk. I could have taken an Ambien, but I hate intoxicants, so I laid in my bed and thought about the day.

A friend had suggested to me that I'd drive anyone not into heavy-duty Khalsa-ing crazy. Really, though, off-line I do have a fairly normal life where I rarely talk about Sikh stuff. After all, Sikhi is something to do, not really something to talk about. Sikhi is a verb.

So what is being a 24/7 Sikh (is there any other kind?) all about. To begin with, it starts with what seems to be two polar opposites, the saint and the soldier, the sant-sipahi thing, closely related to the miri-piri thing. The sant-sipahi seems to have an almost Taoist flavour to it. "The good soldier is not violent. The best soldier acts without anger." No anger, no hatred. To unite the sant and the sipahi is incredibly difficult.

And it doesn't stop there. There is a third element. We are supposed to do this while living a normal life!. No monastery, no convent, no escape from the world for the Sikh. Instead pray, earn an honest living, give to charity, all while attempting to be that sant-sipahi thing. I wonder if anyone - aside from our Guru Jis, of course - have ever succeeded at this. I wonder what success in this for an ordinary Sikh, an ordinary Khalsa would look like. Well, we are supposed to do our best.

At this point, restless, I get up and walk around the house a bit. The pain in my knee only wakes me up further. I sit in the freezing cold living room and turn on the radio to "random tuning." Guru ji uses the voice of The Eagles to ask me, "If it all fell to pieces tomorrow, would you still be mine?"

And I think that being a Sikh means not just taking my life to the limit, but then, living in the limit, metaphorically, at least. (You engineers reading this know what I'm talking about.)

Then I hear Stephan Stills off the Four-Way Street Album (1970). "But if we can't do it with a smile on our face, if we can't do it with love in our heart, then children, we ain't got no right to do it at all. That just means we ain't learned nothing yet. We're supposed to be some sort of different. Dig it! Dig it!"

And when you're looking for your freedom
(Nobody seems to care)
And you can't find the door
(Can't find it anywhere)
When there's nothing to believe in
Still you're coming back, you're running back
You're coming back for more

So put me on a highway
And show me a sign
And take it to the limit one more time

Take it to the limit
Take it to the limit
Take it to the limit one more time

All pictures from Charles Meacham's series, Being Sikh. If you would like to see more - and I hope you do - go to his website, Charles Meacham Photographs, click on 'Galleries,' and go to 'Being Sikh.'

Being A Sikh

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUJgf_17GaA

I have been wanting to write this post for a long time, but it seems every time I actually sit down to write, something intervenes. A new announcement from Sikh Activist Network arrives, a Sikh brother has been attacked in his taxi, the Canadian government is again trying to kidnap Laibar Singh or the government of Haryana has decided to arrest and torture an innocent Amritdhari sister - or some such emergency that needs my immediate attention.

I am temporarily putting aside the slightly gloating, but also tragic post I want to write about the firing of KP Gill and a really interesting article about how 9/11 made us rethink so much. The SAN announcement has been posted, and, as far as I know, none of the others need my attention this minute, so I am setting aside the time to write a post just for my own pleasure. I hope our loyal readers enjoy it, too.

For twenty years, I avoided everything and everyone that reminded me of anything Sikh. Anything at all. My own family, even. I ceased being a Khalsa and tried to get Guru Ji to give me back my head. (He refused, but I've already written about that.) Eventually, though, I wandered back, not all of my problems worked out, my wounds still unhealed, but my sanity slowly restored. And I learned the truth of the line from the song Stones,

by Neil Diamond.

Being lost is worth the coming home.

I enjoy being a Sikh.

A friend suggested that I sounded a little fanatic the other day when I grandly, with a sweep of my arms, well, my right arm, my left arm just isn't quite up to sweeping, and OK, he didn't see the sweeping gesture anyway because it was in an e-mail, 'I love everything about being a Sikh!'

I do. But Fanatic? The dictionary says a fanatic is

A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.

Enthusiastic, sure, but I don't think extreme. And I'm 100% certain not unreasoning.

I love the beliefs, of course, the prayers, the songs, the Panj Kakkars, all the usual things. But it goes beyond that. Being a Sikh is a complete package, a 24/7 experience.

The sounds of the tabla and the harmonium. The voices of the Sangat singing kirtan. The voice of the Sangat Jaikara-ing. The sweet sound of the words of Guru Ji in the air.

The dull roar of the langar hall, the wonderful smells that waft their ways in and through.

The Nishan Sahib, flying joyfully and proudly above the trees against the sky of blue or grey or filled with the colours of sunrise or sunset. The clean, beautiful appearance of the gurdwara building itself. (Note: Driving by the Sabha Singh Gurdwara Sahib in Renton the other day, I noticed that the sign in front really needs to be painted.)

Even more, the many people, dare I say colourful characters, I have met?

Let me skip over my own family; I have written a great deal about them, much of it in my personal blog, sometimes - 2. Feel free to go there and check out the labels Family, Dad, Mani, etc.





I think also about the lovely Babas that I am so fond of. The gentleman I found with his turban neatly tied and his hair hanging to his waist. The other gentleman who was, in a confused state, imperiling his life by making - indecent - proposals to women. The gentlemen I see daily walking, just as my own Dad did, backs straight, eyes strong and clear, gait sure, turbaned heads held high and proud. These send a thrill of pride through my whole body.

And no Baba he, the Nihang in Amritsar that rescued a seven-year old girl, who, ashamed of her shorn hair, ran away from home, and then carried her back to her family on his broad shoulders!

The women I have known, with or without dastaars. (More are tying dastaars these days, a trend I heartily applaud.) My dear Kaurs, the nurses who saved my life two years ago and have continued to be my close friends. Several I know who wish to remain in ghostly shadows, those who, like myself survived the carnage in Delhi during November, 1984. The ones I have never met, but who are, nonetheless, my sisters who survived and raised their children, somehow salvaging some chardi kala to keep going on, day after harrowing day, seemingly forgotten by the Saadh Sangat, ignored by the wealthy SGPC. These women are among our greatest, bravest heroes and deserve our highest praise - and our material help.

The people I have met online. The only one I will identify by name is Kamal, who is listed as an author of this blog. She hasn't written anything here - although she certainly is welcome to - but she is helping me preserve this blog, just in case. She is a young Amritdhari woman, as sweet and just plain wonderful as anyone could be, a constant source of light and encouragement to me. All my Sikh friends on facebook - my nonSikh friends there, too, but right now I'm writing about the Sikhs - an interesting and varied group. There is my gentle, determined young man friend from Punjab who wonders if Vaheguru couldn't be more gentle in teaching us here in Maya. The young woman who is friends with Laibar Singh and lets me know how he is doing. My secretive friend who doesn't want to be quoted. My even more secretive son who won't tell me his name. My two lovely bird ladies, we exchange e-mails and comments, not just about birds, but that's how our communications started. Even, perhaps, the strange young Amritdhari man on orkut who seeks, I think, to preserve the purity of the Khalsa, by inquiring into - forgive me - my sex life! (And me old enough - almost - to be his grandmother.)

I love the Vaisakhi celebrations, just concluded. I love our contentious arguments by people that just refuse to give in. I love the giggles of the Aunties to the young bride. I love being a part of all this. Oh, I could go on and on. Sikhs are a colourful, varied lot. It is a sobering thought to me that I fit into such an interesting, varied group.


More than those things, though, being a Sikh has given me something greater. I am part of something grand. Something much bigger than my rather ridiculous little self. Something strong and wonderful. And precious. Let me explain it like this:

Along with many other of our brothers and sisters, I was called upon to face the worst thing I could imagine, the violence and horrors first of Bluestar and then of whatever you want to call the carnage in Delhi. It might be argued that being a Sikh put me in those situations. What cannot be argued is that being a Sikh gave me the strength and courage to survive and want to go on building a life, wanting to do something to improve the world in which I live. Believing that I could make a difference. Knowing that whatever may happen, I don't have to give up or give in. To know that Guru Ji loves me and will give me whatever strength I need. All this just for the price of one worthless head!





I hope you enjoy the Nihung Ardaas and some more pictures by Charles Meacham. Please check out his website at Charles Meacham Photography.



BTW, in the time I have written this, two hours, my inbox has grown from 16 to 54, mostly from GLZ and IHRO, Sikh groups both.

What Is A Turban Worth?

What is a Sikh's turban worth? A few dollars or rupees? My turbaned brother or sister, if your turban is ripped off your head, what is it worth?

I wonder how my Dad would have reacted if someone had tried to pull his turban off. I know once when I was in high school, one of my goreh friends asked me that. I told her that it would be sort of like if I pulled down her father's pants. I'm not sure what Dad would do, but she'd never be invited back to our house. Truth to be told, she thought it was stupid; she just didn't get it. She left Dad's turban alone, but I never had her over again.

This story has been around for a while and now seems the time to bring it up.

from: News-Review.info

Alleged theft of Sikh’s turban deemed harassment

CHELSEA DUNCAN, cduncan@newsreview.info


Ranjit Singh lives his life respecting all religions, all cultures, all people. Every person is equal, the truck driver from Manteca, Calif., said.

Singh, 37, feels he was not shown the same respect while visiting a truck stop in Rice Hill last year. When the turban he wears as a member of the Sikh religion was reportedly snatched from his head, Singh considered the incident an attack on his beliefs.

“That is a very important thing,” he said of the turban, a part of the articles of faith Sikhs wear as a testament to their religion.

He contacted the Sikh Coalition, based in New York, where members lamented what they called a hate crime. The Douglas County District Attorney’s Office pressed felony charges against three suspects, alleging they had taken the turban because of their perceptions of Singh’s religion or national origin.

But last week, a Douglas County grand jury declined to indict the men on those charges, instead accusing them of misdemeanor harassment and third-degree theft.

Singh and his supporters were disappointed with the decision.

Amardeep Singh, the executive director of the Sikh Coalition (no relation to Ranjit Singh), believes the grand jury’s choice reflects a gap in education and knowledge.

“It doesn’t seem that the grand jury got the injury to a whole community that occurs when you go after its most sacred article of faith,” he said.

Yoncalla residents Ryan David Robbins, 21, Kyle Brian Simmons, 22, and Ryan Jeffrey Newell, 28, are accused in the Aug. 25 incident that occurred as Ranjit Singh was walking out of a convenience store, according to court records.

One of the men allegedly grabbed the turban, ran around the building, then drove away with it in a car, according to the Douglas County Sheriff’s Office.

Singh called police, and with the help of a surveillance video from the store, officials were able to track the three men down several days later.

“The allegations are very serious allegations,” said Assistant District Attorney Rick Wesenberg, “and we recognized that.”

Charges of first-degree intimidation, a felony, and second-degree theft, a misdemeanor, were initially filed. The charge of intimidation deals with situations such as assaults or threats committed due to perception of a person’s race, color, religion, national origin or sexual orientation.

“We presented the grand jury with the facts and the law,” Wesenberg said, “and the grand jury made the ultimate decision.”

Because the case is pending against the men, who Wesenberg stressed are innocent until proven otherwise, the prosecutor declined to comment further.

The suspects could not immediately be reached for comment. Robbins’ attorney could also not be reached, and it was unclear whether the other two men have retained attorneys.

The charge of harassment alleges that the men unlawfully and intentionally subjected Singh to offensive physical contact.

Singh and his supporters likely would not disagree with that description, but they believe the most important aspect of the case was lost on the grand jury.

Amardeep Singh believes the jurors apparently viewed the incident as a joke, that the man who took the turban was “a prankster, but not a bigot.”

With the stereotypes left in the wake of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, Singh doesn’t see how anyone could not understand the implications of stealing a turban.

Sikhs wear turbans and the other articles of faith to express their commitment to follow the mandates of the religion, such as living truthfully and standing for equality and social justice, according to www.sikhcoalition.org.

“It’s a constant reminder that we should always be good honest people,” Amardeep Singh said.

According to the Web site, Sikhism originated in South Asia and has more than 25 million followers worldwide.

As the case proceeds, Singh said advocates hope to get a chance to explain how they feel about the incident to a judge or jury in an effort to educate. They’ve also asked federal officials to open an investigation to pursue so-called hate crime charges.

The grand jury’s decision about the intimidation charges was not all that troubled Amardeep Singh and Ranjit Singh. During the grand jury process, the dollar value of the turban came up for debate.

Ranjit Singh was asked to estimate the value of the turban to determine which level of theft should be charged.

For Singh, there was no way to do that. To him, the turban is sacred, priceless.

“I’m not fighting for four or five dollars,” he said, “I am fighting for justice.”

Photos: I did not find a picture of Ranjit Singh, so you are treated to these wonderful pictures of Sikhs. I like to look at Sikhs; I think we're a very good-looking group. I have permission to use these photographs by professional photographer Charles Meacham. If you would like to see more, go to his website, Charles Meacham Photographs, click on 'Galleries,' and go to 'Being Sikh.'