He locked the washroom door, unravelled the nine-metre turban, took a pair of scissors and started cutting. Ten minutes later, three feet of hair lay in a pile and Charanbir Singh sat down and cried.
Outside, his parents and grandmother were in tears. Two friends persuaded him to come out, but Charanbir, his head wrapped in a towel, rushed to his room.
That was a year ago. Charanbir, now 17, still shudders at the memory. "I had to cut my hair." (Link)
One of ironies of life in the 21st century western world is that despite an unparalleled degree of freedom
of religion, the majority of people seem to be opting for freedom
from religion.
Last week, Raveena Aulakh, a reporter from the Toronto Star, put a Canadian twist on the worldwide issue of apostasy amongst Sikh Youth.
Sikhism dates back to 15th-century India. Adherents are required to not cut their hair, considered a visible testament to their connection with their creator. The turban was adopted to manage long hair and make Sikhs easily identifiable.
For many young men in Greater Toronto, that is the problem: They don't want to stand out.
Like other new or second-generation immigrants, many Sikh youngsters are desperate to fit in with the school crowd, while others complain of racism because they wear the turban. Add to that cultural influences, peer pressure and the desire to assimilate.
The end result? Many youngsters cut their hair, leading to family friction and, in some cases, lasting estrangement.
As a counterpoint, in the article and video below, Pardeep Singh Nagra (of
boxing fame) presents his thoughts on why he’s decided to keep his hair.
Fear & GuiltI’ve often wondered why so many Sikh youth keep their hair through high school but cut it as soon as they feel free from their parent's control? From my perspective I see this as symptomatic of a great challenge facing Sikhs around the world today. Somehow, someway, we have fallen into the trap of pushing Sikhi to the next generation with fear and guilt, rather than sharing Sikhi through love.
Take your typical Sikh family; actually take mine. My now 25 year old cousin in Punjab had wanted to cut his hair since he was a teenager but two things stopped him. He was afraid that if he cut his hair, his dad would beat him and then disown him. Secondly, he knew that if he did get a haircut and shave he wouldn’t be able to look his crying mom in the eye.
Unfortunately, there was little positive reinforcement around Sikhi in his life. Sure there was Sikhi by osmosis: visiting Gurdwaras, gurbani playing in the background, the odd sakhi told by our visiting grandfather. However, my cousin had little exposure to the aspects of Sikhi (nitnem, kirtan, seva, simran) that would have connected him with his faith on a deeper level. Most of the discussions with his parents were a flavour of the famous
Goodness Gracious Me clip. So not surprisingly, upon entering college, he too cut his hair. And sure enough, he became our family's black sheep, making a kid with already low self-esteem, feel even worse.
Where’s The Love?Rather than the fear and guilt he got, my cousin needed love. He could have been instilled with a sense of pride and deep connection to his faith, people, traditions, history and most importantly, the Guru’s divinely-inspired bani. With this foundation, keeping the outward appearance would have been a natural manifestation of his internal commitment.
So why didn’t this happen? I think there were two main causes. The first was a lack of communication between him and his parents. Many parents, especially in Punjab, still think that parenting is a one-way street that requires little listening or patience on their part. They talk and the kids listen and obey. My cousin rarely had real conversations with his parents, so he never had the chance to open up about what was going through his head. Whereas an open dialogue would allow greater understanding and empathy on both ends, the lack of it results in explosive situations like with Charnbir (above). If a child chooses to cut his hair, for whatever reason, the parents shouldn’t be finding out about it when he walks through the door with the haircut. Like all life-changing decisions, there needs to be a healthy and open discussion.
The second reason why I don’t think Sikhi by love happens in most households is that it requires a deep knowledge of Sikhi beyond rhetoric and platitudes. Answering “why do I keep my hair and wear a turban?” with “because your dad and grandfather do” isn’t going to satisfy anyone (and never really did). So while this isn’t always the case, many times when children do have questions about Sikhi, the parents are unequipped for providing relevant and insightful answers. My mother has often stated that while we have lots of camps and retreats for youth, what we really need are programs for parents on how to be Sikh parents.
Looking For Love…So what can be done? How do we get young Sikhs to fall in love with Sikhi? From my perspective, the answer lies in creating an atmosphere of Sangat to provide direction and support as well as to create the relevant tools to help them on their journey.
In
sangat, our Gurus understood "peer pressure" centuries before the term was even coined. They knew that an individual would absorb the qualities of those he or she associated with. Hence the primacy in Sikhi, of finding divinely-inspired companions to help show the path to spirituality. Peer pressure is often the determining factor as it leverages the natural teenage desire to fit in and conform. This can be towards or away from Sikhi.
We can use peer pressure to our advantage to help reinforce Sikhi in youth. We need more opportunities for Sikh youth to positively interact with one another that tacitly confirm the complete normalcy of keeping a Sikh identity. These can range from traditional religious activities like youth kirtans, retreats, and gurbani circles to more contemporary initiatives like sports teams, tournaments, book clubs, art clubs, and volunteer groups. The key is to create a safe, low-pressure positive environment where Sikh youth are comfortable hanging out, having fun, learning and sharing.
A great example is
Yudh Gatka Akhara in Brampton (Toronto). Run in a completely professional manner by Sarbjeet Singh, the akhara has dozens of young Sikh boys and girls enrolled in regular gatka classes. Sure the kids learn self-defense, but more importantly they learn self-esteem and resilience in a Sikh context. I’ve seen shy, confused and unsure teenage boys walk in to the akhara and walk out just a few months later with a spring in their step, confident and proud of who they are.
Another example is a Friday night basketball session in Malton/Rexdale (Toronto). For years, Harpreet Singh Dhariwal has booked out a school gym where guys come and play ball. Anyone can play, no questions, no lectures. Just pure basketball. Some of the guys have been coming for years and others are brand new. You can tell the new ones because they’re always amazed that anyone can call a “
joora time-out” whenever their
dastaar, patka or
joora comes undone. In the small rule change, Harpreet has made the challenge of a Sikh identity in sports a non-issue and more importantly normal.
We have some great programs in existence today, but the reality is that, if we flipped a switch, and got every kid interested in Sikhi, they wouldn’t have anywhere to go. Our current initiatives serve less than 1% of the Sikh population and, in their current structure, are utterly unscalable.
However, let us not forget that
sangat begins at home. There are lots of books and sources on improving communications between parents and children so I won’t delve in to that here. However, I believe it’s awfully hard to compensate for not having an atmosphere of Sikhi and
sangat in the home. Sure it’s always possible, but as Stephen Covey loves saying that “families that pray together, stay together”.
The other area I alluded to is the need for relevant tools for Sikh youth to use on their spiritual path.
LiteratureMaybe I’m missing the boat, but the dirty little secret of Sikh literature is that there’s been little written in the last 20 years that I could recommend to a non-practicing Sikh friend, that would deeply inspire to explore the faith. Sure we have Dr. IJ Singh and a handful of others, but we need dozens of thought proving authors. We need Sikh equivalents of Stephen Covey, Eckhart Tolle, Paulo Coelho, and John C. Maxwell. We need writers that stir the heart and move the soul.
The novel,
The Shack by William P. Young has been getting huge coverage lately. I’d love to read a Sikh novel that also does for us what this book has done for some like producer Patrick Roddy, “one of a kind invitation to journey to the very heart of God. Through my tears and cheers, I have been indeed transformed by the tender mercy with which William Paul Young opened the veil that too often separated me from God and from myself.”
MusicI am still stirred to tears by Hans Raj Hans’
Patta Patta Singhan Da Vaire as well as Chamkila / Amarjot’s
Talwar Kalghidar Di Han. In their own ways, they’ve provided a rallying cry to a previous generation of Sikhs.
Finally, after years of Sikhs leading the charge on the bhangra scene and heavy influence from the hip-hop / R&B world, we’re starting to see a new generation of Sikh artists producing socially conscious music that speaks to the Sikh spirit and identity.
The Immortal Shaheedi series is heard around the world and I was amazed by how often I heard the tracks in Punjab. The new video for
Son of a Sardar by Tigerstyle is fantastic. I’m still waiting for Sukhdeep Singh Bhogal from Australia to come out with a sequel for
Just 2 Live Another Day. Finally,
Humble The Poet (aka Kanwer Singh) is becoming legendary with his lyrics and style.
Even in Punjab, you’re seeing more creativity coming into dharmak music like Taranampreet’s new
song. And if you’ve been turned off from dhadi jathas, listening to
Tarsem Singh Moranwali will remind you why Guru Hargobind started the tradition to hype up his Sikhs.
PhotographyHere we are starting to see some progress, but if pictures are worth a thousand words, we’re still thousands of pictures behind. Professionals like
Nick Fleming and
Charles Meacham have done a great job profiling Sikhs in Punjab.
However what is really encouraging is seeing a new generation of Sikh youth taking an interest in photography. Artists like
Solarider,
Jaskirat Dhaliwal, Kamal of
Digitilogy,
Gurpreet Kaur,
Hartaarn Singh and
Simran Kaur are using the art to express their individual spirituality.
FilmWhile words, images and sounds each uniquely speak to the soul in different ways, nothing compares to the sheer overwhelming power of film. Sikh films have made great progress in the last decade with productions like
Divided We Fall,
My Mother India,
Continuous Journey,
Amu,
The Widow Colony, and
Ocean of Pearls. I can personally attest that each of these films has made me a better Sikh, but again this is the tip of the iceberg. We’re still waiting for the Sikh Braveheart.
WebI won’t give you a laundry list of sites, but almost monthly, there’s a new website presenting a different take on Sikhi. There’s almost too much out there now, but some of the best are listed on this sites blog roll.
In ConclusionThis Toronto Star article reported on a trend that has been all too well documented. What I’d love to see are articles on the individuals who are reversing this apostasy by re-adorning their external Sikh identity. While their numbers are smaller, their stories are certainly more inspiring.
Much to my delight, my cousin is one of them. Long story short, his parents eventually ceased and desisted with the guilt/fear and let him be himself. Soon thereafter he was blessed with some fantastic sangat who helped him connect with the Guru’s message in a way that spoke to him for the first time in his life. He fell in love with Sikhi. Over time, with a strengthened inner core of Sikhi, no one had to push him to display it on the outside. He kept his hair and starting wearing a dastaar on his own accord.
