Mr. Singh

Like many important parts of the India, the Sikh religion appeared to me gradually. I probably saw a few turbans in TN, but I didn’t know what to think of them, so I just didn’t at all. My first memory of active curiosity comes from the Taj hotel in Kerala where we noticed some men with boat-shaped head wrappings in the dining room. Only some passing speculative conversation about their religion occurred to us then, and the Sikhs disappeared from my perception until we stepped off the plane and onto our bus in Delhi.

That’s when we first saw Mr. Singh beaming at us from behind the wheel. I remember distinct surprise to see the light blue turban topping his large stout frame and white-bearded face. I generally think of bus drivers as skillful but essentially simple people with whom my experience driving big machines gives me a bit of potential common ground. On the other hand, a turban acts for me as possibly the most alienating signal of cultural difference. For one, they’re strange, and I can’t imagine ever seriously wearing one. More importantly, their appearance adds an inevitable air of dignity to a man, and their religious implications enhance the gravity of any potential missteps or faux pas of interaction. This vague impression, coupled with zero actual experience around turbaned people, caused me to reel a bit at the sight of one grinningly ready to pilot our bus through the irreverent madhouse of Delhi traffic.

Maybe not so shockingly. we learned over the next week that Mr. Singh was a fairly normal guy. It started when he broke some fo the sacred aura of the turban by helping Drew to wrap one for himself. He showed fatherly concern when a group of guys started following our bus, and he stayed while we told them off to make sure they actually left. Finally, on our last night together in Agra, he cooked his wife’s special fried fish dish for us on a propane burner in the back of the bus, and then served us rum and cokes as we danced to Bollywood tunes in the aisles.

Coincidentally, I learned a lot more academic things about Sikhism that week also. We visited their temple in Delhi, which, even as non-Sikh foreigners, we were permitted to fully explore. We saw the massive kitchen where they serve free meals to thousands of hungry people every day. We even got to help stir the gobi and knead bread, and the served us hot chai when we were finished.

        Based on some basic readings and a conversation with a Sikh man outside the same temple, I’ve learned a bit about Sikh theology. The first part, the one that helps you identify a Sikh, is the “5K’s” which they all adhere to. They don’t cut their hair, they carry a comb, wear special undies and an iron bracelet. They also carry daggers, relating to religious persecution and their role as an army of God, which they enact by upholding the equality of all people.

This equality was emphasized by my friend outside the temple, who pointed out the exlusive aspects in the holy places and rituals of other religions, but claimed none in the practices of the Sikhs. Even I could become a Sikh, because it just means student. He talked about the logical basis of the Sikh texts, and how they described many laws of nature they were only observed by science much later. He says you are always learning but never obtain complete understanding in the temple, which keeps him coming back every day.

He was proud that Sikhs don’t force their children to follow in the religion or attempt to convert others. He admitted that Sikhism is shrinking because of this philosophy, but, according to Wikipedia, it remains the 5^th largest religion in the world. I’m surprised I had never heard of it, but I can see how it might be more easily overlooked then even smaller religions with more global significance (Jews) or local relevance (Mormons). Discovering the Sikhs definitely counts as an unexpected benefit of this India trip.