With A Little Help From My Friends: Vaisakhi in Jackson, MS

The Golden Temple in Amritsar, Punjab, India

Prologue: A slightly different version of this piece will be running on my friend Rupinder Singh’s terrific blog, American Turban. As some extra preliminary info, Vaisakhi is a holiday celebrated in much of India. Historically, for Hindus and Buddhists it marked the beginning of a new year and the start of the harvest season. For Sikhs, it doubles as a celebration of the establishment of the Khalsa in 1699. The Khalsa is the initiated brotherhood (I say brotherhood, but it is a gender-neutral body) of Sikhs who observe several practices - called the 5 K’s, as each begins with the letter “k” in Punjabi: kesh (uncut hair), kanga (keeping a wooden comb on their person), kirpan (a sheathed blade), kachera (an undergarment that represents moral chastity), and the kara (a circular bracelet worn on the wrist, representing both God’s eternal nature and their own servitude to God).

Painting of the Khalsa, replete in their traditional navy and saffron garb.

 As a friend of (and now a certified advocate for) the Sikh community in the United States, I can say as a pure fact, bereft of any egoism, that I know far more about Sikhs and Sikhism than the average caucasian male. In the past four years, I became involved with the Sikh Coalition, a civil rights group dedicated to promoting and fighting for religious freedom. They were founded shortly after 9/11, when several instances of bias attacks against Sikhs took place. Their brown skin, beards, and turbans have frequently led unintelligent, bloodthirsty individuals to mistake them for Muslims.

Shortly after the horrific events of Oak Creek last August, where a white supremacist opened fire in a gurdwara (Sikh house of worship), a photo floated around that I ended up putting on my profile:

I mention this because on at least one occasion, when I have talked about my work with the Coalition, someone has said, “But the Sikhs are also not okay with violence against Muslims, right?” The answer is yes, followed (at least in my mind) with a “duh.”

Sikhism is a pluralistic system of belief. The founder of the Sikh faith, Guru Nanak, once said something to the effect that it is okay to be a Muslim, but to be a good Muslim, and that it is okay to be a Hindu, but to be a good Hindu. Here is a quote from Dr. Kazi Nurul Islam, in an article posted on the Sikh Chic website:

“To be a Sikh it is mandatory that he/she must respect and accept all other religions of the world and at the same time must protect, guard and allow the free-practice of the customs and rituals of others. The Guru Granth Sahib [Sikh religious scripture - ed.] teaches its followers to love all creation as God's own manifestation. Acceptance of all faiths, and interfaith tolerance and understanding are basic to the teachings of Guru Granth Sahib.

History of the Sikh tradition shows remarkable consistency in the pursuit of these ideals and in the defence of the right to free worship of peoples of all faiths.”

Guru Nanak (1469-1539)

Working with the Sikh Coalition since late 2009, I have worked as a media consultant, helping digitize and catalog a vast library of digital tapes, while also putting together a few videos for the Coalition’s YouTube page. In 2012, after almost going for it in 2011, I applied to the Coalition’s Advocate Academy program. Twelve of us gathered in Washington, DC for a week of training in learning how to engage political leaders, the media, and our communities to fight for the cause of civil rights. It is training I have happily taken with me into the real world, which in turn has made me a better citizen.

When Alexa and I were living in New York City, I made friends with a Sikh tabla player at our favorite Indian restaurant (and site of our first date), Taj Mahal. The friendship started with a passing utterance of “Sat sri akal” (a Sikh greeting, meaning “God is the ultimate truth”) from me as I put a five dollar bill in their tip jar. He smiled big and bowed as best he could while still playing a complex tin-tin-tal on his drum. On consequent visits, as we waited for our food, I would always face the musicians and get the nod/smile of recognition. I enjoyed the music, and I am certain he appreciated having a fan - who also happened to be a drummer.

In our travels (and we have been through eight states so far), we have seen Sikhs at the state history museum in Raleigh, North Carolina, on the street in Washington, DC, and - most unique of all - running a gas station on State Road 72 outside of Elberton, Georgia. If the utterance of “sat sri akal” evoked a smile in New York City, then one can easily imagine the stunned delight of hearing it in rural Georgia! Needless to say, it has proven to be an instant icebreaker and conversation starter in our encounters with Sikhs across the United States.

While traveling across the southern states, we realized that Vaisakhi was right around the corner, and that we would be passing through Mississippi just in time for the holiday. As luck would have it, one of the Sikh Coalition’s advocates from 2011, Arvinder Singh Kang, hailed from Mississippi and had been a presence in the Magnolia State’s sangat (congregation). Although he has since moved to Vancouver, he got me in touch with a friend of his, Amrik. We exchanged contact info and Amrik gave me the address for the gurdwara in Jackson. Alexa and I learned that on Vaisakhi, the gurdwara would host a program put on by the children of the sangat, with more formal Vaisakhi celebrations to take place the following Sunday.

We arrived early at the gurdwara, where a curious and amicable lady from the sangat named Sophia introduced herself to us. I told her that I worked with the Sikh Coalition, and that we were passing through the area in time for the holiday. Sophia ushered us into the langar hall (where community meals are given after worship), where we enjoyed some chai, pakoras, and halwa. Halfway through our tea, Sophia came up to me with an older man from the sangat and made introductions. She asked if I would be interested in briefly speaking after the children’s program. I said I would be more than happy to.

I don’t know how true this statistic is, but throughout my childhood, adolescence, and now adulthood, I have heard time and again that public speaking is the one thing people fear more than death or illness. Coming from a background that includes acting, speech team, mock trial, and (more recently) academic conference presentations, an impromptu five minute speech about the Sikh Coalition, its recent achievements, and primary directives - things I have committed to memory - is something I could happily do, and without much panic.

The service itself ranged from the adorable to the powerful. In the adorable category were several toddlers who recited the mul mantar, which are the opening verses from the Guru Granth Sahib, a plain statement of Sikh beliefs in only one God (known as Waheguru, or “wonderful teacher”) and God’s many qualities. (There is no place to really put this, so I’ll just inject this little fact here: Waheguru is a gender-neutral term, meaning God is without gender. Indeed, there was a passage quoted that morning during the service that referred to God as “both our mother and our father.”)

In the category of the purely powerful was a group of young teens leading the sangat in kirtan, or hymns of praise. With the lyrics projected on a screen in Punjabi, transliterated Punjabi, and an English translation (something, Amrik told me, that is now a simple computer program used in gurdwaras), I saw the words of the kirtan dealt with not having a fear of death, and that good Sikhs should be happy to lay down their lives in defense of justice. I had chills down my spine as I recalled memories of Oak Creek, how I learned about it after a Sunday without any news, seeing tearful Sikhs on newspapers that dreary Monday morning. For one to assert they are not afraid of death, viewed in that light, was an overwhelmingly profound and poignant moment.

I was also reminded of our advocacy training in DC last summer, when the Sikh Coalition’s legal director Amardeep Singh, on our final day, rhetorically asked us why the Coalition fights so hard for its cause. He answered with a picture of his two beautiful little boys, one of whom, as Amar had learned that morning via text message, had just learned how to tie his own patka (a headdress used on younger males before they don turbans). Pointing at the picture, with tears in his eyes that were all too contagious, Amar said, “That’s why!”, adding that he wanted his sons to grow up in a better world than he did, free from bullying, harassment, and profiling.

These kids - and there had to have been at least forty of them - are proud Sikhs, proud of their heritage, proud of their identities, and proud of their community. When the young girl spoke in English about the “visitors from New York,” calling me “Mr. Alex,” (and here I was thinking “Professor DiBlasi” had a bizarre ring to it!) I walked up to the podium feeling that the most powerful message of the morning had already been given, that the forty pairs of young eyes right in front of me were more than enough of a message that the Sikh community - even in a place where one might not expect to see Sikhs, in Mississippi - was alive and well, and that its future was more than certain.

Several days later, I have already forgotten what I said. It was a little bit about the Sikh Coalition’s work in legal and educational initiatives - including Manbeena Kaur’s successful push in Texas to have Sikhism included in social studies curricula dealing with religious studies - before talking about the advocacy program. I told them what we do as advocates before urging the community to get involved.

With my parting words, one of the young boys sitting near the front shouted, “BOLE SO NIHAL!” (“whoever utters the following phrase shall be fulfilled”) and the sangat erupted with a collective, “SAT! SRI! AKAL!”, and this time it was me who was left beaming in stunned delight.

The Sikh Coalition 2012 Advocates:
Front row, L to R: Deepak Ahluwalia (TX), Poonam Singh (NY), Harleen Kaur (MI), Jusleen Sodhi (OH), Harjit Kaur (CA), Simranjit Gill (CA)
Back row, L to R: Winty Singh (CA), me, Shawn Tucker (GA), Parwaz Sra (CA), Ranjanpreet Nagra (CA), Lori Way (IN)