The Book of Peace

Centuries ahead of the concept of secularism and democracy, the Sikh religion de-recognised the caste system and adopted the ideology of all humans being equal. Guru Nanak chose a Muslim musician as his companion, and three of Guru Gobind Singh’s first five disciples were ‘shudras’ (untouchables).

Guru Nanak wrote: ‘‘There are ignoble amongst the noblest, and pure amongst the despised/The former shalt thou avoid, and be the dust under the foot of the other.’’

All Sikh men were to adopt a uniform surname ‘Singh’ (and women the name ‘Kaur’) instead of any caste label. This has no doubt led to an apparent paradox which my foreign friends find difficult to understand. That while all Sikhs are ‘Singhs’, all Singhs do not necessarily belong to the Sikh community. But with the passage of time, caste and casteism have crept back into the community. So much so that the secular Indian Army has separate Sikh and Sikh LI (Light Infantry) regiments to cater to caste sensitivities.

But then caste often transcends even religion. I was reminded by a Muslim student of Qaid-e-Azam University in Islamabad a few years ago that he carried his surname of Dhindsa with great pride. In early 1990s, Pakistan Punjab’s chief minister was a Nakai, a descendent of Maharaja Ranjit Singh whose ancestors converted to Islam in late 1880 but retained their caste label. Incidentally, we had two Sikh Nakai generals who served in the Indian Army.

In spite of the emphasis on not being worldly, ritualism has seeped into the community. In the early 1970s, while flying over the countryside in Punjab and Haryana, even in fast jet fighter aircraft at very high speeds, during normal training in the Air Force, one started to notice white dots. These were tall marble gurdwaras. Signs of prosperity as a consequence of the Green Revolution seeping into the rural north India could be noticed from supersonic speeds in the air.

I recall that my flight commander, a good Sikh by the name of Nagina Singh Matharoo, would lead a low-level, high-speed strike mission in the MiG-21 squadron that I was commanding in the mid-1970s and navigate the formation with pinpoint accuracy. The aircraft had really no such things as the modern-day aids for navigation and weapon attack systems beyond human judgement (it was called the ‘‘Eye-balls Mark-2’’ system). After months of being deeply impressed by Nagina’s unusual abilities, I accidentally discovered his secret: he was navigating on the basis of the white domes of the gurdwaras!!

He was a very good flier. But I had to caution him that his spiritual ‘‘navigation aid’’ would not be available where it might be needed the most—across the border. But it was clear that ritualism was spreading along with prosperity. In a world of increasing materialism, nuclear families, rising prosperity, growing vulnerabilities and so on, religion does provide an emotional anchor.

But it also becomes a tool of politics. During Zail Singh’s term as chief minister, even milestones on major roads in Punjab were recast in saffron colours shaped at the top like the domes of gurdwaras. Simplicity and self-discipline were to be the hallmark of the Sikhs. Khushwant Singh had said 50 years ago that Sikhism in its present shape may disappear in half a century.

One can only hope that people are also becoming more god-fearing along with being more religious. As Guru Nanak said: ‘‘If thou must the path of true religion see; Amongst the world’s impurities, be of impurities free.’’

One normally associates Sikhs with their image of a warring community that produces great fighters. Sikh valour and fighting spirit are legend; and so is its ability for sacrifice. Unlike some other religions, that sacrifice is not based on the promise of an after-life in heaven but on what is believed to be the defence of righteousness. What is perhaps less known is that Sikhism is a religion of peace amounting at times to pacifism. But, according to Khushwant Singh, the tenth Guru, Guru Gobind Singh, who made the Sikhs more martial than at any time before, spelt out the role of force in this Persian couplet:

‘‘Chu kar uz hama har heel te dar guzusht/Halal ust burden ba shamsheer dust.’’

(When all other means have failed/it is righteous to draw the sword).

Here we find, as in so much of Sikhism, that the beliefs go back to ancient Indian political and spiritual thinking. While the concept of force occupied an important position in the political theory of ancient times, it had to be regulated by the concept of dharma, with its checks and balances. Manusmriti had ordained that resort to force must come at the end of all available options. Sikh traditions demand that the sword must be drawn as the last resort, in defence of the weak and should be sheathed only after justice has been dispensed to the oppressed.