The moment of the Khalsa, the moment
of truth
By Darshan Singh Maini

HISTORY as a discipline has been interpreted from time to time in many a diverse way, and continues to be, in some respects, a sum of imponderables, surmises, imaginative reconstructions etc. The problematics of historicism in our times have, therefore, thrown up several subtle philosophical questions. Without going into such larger issues, it’s perhaps reasonable to conclude that the drift in investigation and connotation suggests, among other things, an engagement of the imagination with the grid of hidden energies that in a particular period of time precipitated radical changes in the mindset of a community or a nation. Even this mode of historiography runs into difficulties when the history of a major religion is the subject of research. For the religious impulse and its passage through time to its final consummation in scripture and church would seen to follow a mysterious, inner logic that’s not explicable in known categories of thought. Thus we are driven back to ontological arguments positing the existence of God — and, therefore, of religion. And the enquiry leads us to understand the dynamics of faith as such. The long journey of a consecrated community then becomes a series of insights, epiphanies and contextual coordinates.

Before I take up the question of Sikhism in the light of the ongoing argument, it’s necessary to touch upon the idea of the uniqueness of a particular religion. For in some manner almost all world religions claim a sui generis character. The fact is that a faith being ordained by the lord at a particular moment through the agency of a supreme, charismatic master is again something that has an axiomatic base. Its authenticity is beyond our argument. For religion per se stipulates awe, mystery and fruitful ambiguity. The sacred and the profane in tandem create, then, a unified vision. And it’s the story of the one such visionary faith that concerns us here as we approach its 300th birth anniversary as an organised, consecrated religion, complete with name, signatures and insignia. Leaving aside hagiography except where it helps light up a particular issue, it’s left to the imagination of discovery and reverence to put the history of the Khalsa in perspective.

However, I do not mean to cover the heroic saga of Sikhism form Guru Nanak to the Tenth Master stage by stage, for this great story is well chronicled in scores of volumes. Nor do I wish to dwell on those moments of ordeals and sacrifices and martyrdoms that helped anneal the Sikh spirit en route, and gave the community its greatest periods of pride, power and glory amidst a host of intractable, insurmountable problems. Instead, this brief essay is directed towards those airs and essences which gave the Sikh Panth its true identity. To be sure, when we leave the history of the faith out of this account, we do not mean to say that its genius and character—i.e. its essences and values—could be studied in isolation. For essences become the mark of a community through action and engagement. And what’s history, finally, but a long story of word, deed and commitment?

The arrival of a people sworn to a certain set of moral values and observances after a tempestuous passage through the deeps of time and contingency brings us, thus, to the meaning of the moment when Guru Gobind Singh, in a spectacular ceremony, rich in symbolism, announced the birth of the Khalsa on the Baisakhi day 300 years ago. History, I may add, in general, and the history of religions, in particular, has many an example to illustrate the Greek concept of Kairos which Paul Tillich, a leading 20th century thinker, has briefly discussed in his book The Eternal Now. The word means in the Greek language, "the right time". To quote Tillich, "All great changes in history are accompanied by a strong consciousness of a Kairos at hand." In the case of Sikhism, we may thus identify two primal or significant moments —the first when Guru Nanak broke away from the moribund, sacerdotal Hinduism of his day to found a new creed of vision and work, and the second when the wheel of faith came full circle with the formal baptism of the Khalsa by the Last Master.

That moment, then, was the moment of making, of a moment that brought to a heroic conclusion the vast, untapped energies of a people given to a life of labour and endeavour. In other words, all the disparate elements, sects, splinter groups within the Sikh fold were unified into a Commonwealth of the Khalsa . At one stroke, all distinctions of caste, birth, colour and degree were abolished. A sword had flashed in the sun, and a community rechristened, was invested with a large humanist dream, given a definitive mandate, and set on the high road of history. The subsequent events that shaped the community’s Collective Consciousness only authenticated the primal vision, which, coming from Guru Nanak, gathered energies and fresh dimensions through the successive Gurus, a vision consummated when the Tenth Master closed the chapter of human succession, and made the Adi Granth, compiled earlier by Guru Arjan Dev, the sole authority in matters of doctrines, values, right conduct etc. It may not be out of place to mention here that the Sikh holy scripture has no parallel in the world so far as its Catholicity and supremacy of song are concerned. It carries not only the bani of the Gurus, but also the compositions of saints and divines owing allegiance to different creeds, tongues and cultures. That’s why Guru Gobind Singh pronounced it the Sikhs’ guide, mentor and Guru.

It’s important at this stage to aver that the scriptural finality was not to be taken as the truth embalmed in letter only. The word became a divine message, and the vision flesh when there was a complete harmony between the letter and the spirit. Thus, at the very outset, Sikhism was so primed as to frown upon lifeless rigidities and orthodoxies. In fact, a certain kind of mental resilience, or hospitality to other thoughts was built in the very fabric of the bani. A mere worship of the letter produced in the end one-dimensional, closed communities, whereas Sikhism embraced new thoughts without jettisoning its heritage of insights and values. That’s why, in a very special sense, it remains modern in its outlook. The essentially egalitarian world-view of the Gurus, and the essentially democratic character of all Sikh institutions and bodies set it apart from militant, monolithic religious communities. To be sure, we have, in the last few decades, seen the supremacy of the letter over the spirit in Sikh polity, a grievous departure from the legacy of accommodations and magnanimities. No wonder, the bewildered community finds itself fragmented, mired in controversies on the threshold of the Great Day.

To return, then, to the theme of this essay, we have to understand the dialectic of the Sikh dream. And this dialectic is nothing but a study of those essences which Sikhism has earned and propagated. This should draw our attention to the sum of moral values which are in danger of being eclipsed in the face of to-day’s forces of hedonism, runaway consumerism and low pragmatism.

On the top of the table is the value of truth which is the highest virtue in Sikh ethics. In Guru Nanak’s own words, it’s even higher than right conduct. For truth is God’s own attribute, and, therefore, a transcendent, inalienable value:

Truth is higher than everything else,
But higher still is the living by truth.

A vigilant and creative concern is, thus, needed to keep it inviolate, sacred, and in a state of readiness. Other Sikh virtues include, among other things, extinction of ego, pity and compassion, forgiveness and the generosity of heart, a soulful, vigilant respect for woman, an empathic understanding of the adversary point of view, courage in the cause of dharma or righteousness, living by the sweat of your brow, a watchful regard for the poor and the lowly.

At the same time, if despite all one’s efforts to persuade a tyrant who wilfully and wantonly commits acts of aggression, there’s no remedy left to put matters right, then the lifting of the consecrated, sword becomes an inescapable moral obligation. As Guru Gobind Singh wrote in Zafarnama or "The Epistle of Victory" addressed in Persian to the Moghul Emperor, Aurangzeb, the sword in such circumstances becomes an instrument of justice and redresser.

When the situation is past all measures of persuation,
It’s thy rightful duty to lift the sword.

In conclusion, we are obliged to ponder deeply the condition of the Khalsa Panth as we stand on the cutting edge of history. In the same measure we are obliged to suggest a purposive agenda for the generations ahead. How should we go about the business of a helpful renaissance without losing sight of the realities on the ground? Can the youth, in particular, be weaned away from the vices that have taken a global colour? These and other related questions brook no easy answers. All that one may say with a degree of confidence or certitude is something that has stood the test of time — the eternally radical character of Sikhism, the universal, timeless values incorporated into the Sikh sensibility, and the structured sense of meeting all assaults of the changing reality. In sum, history flowing through the Sikh blood and veins in itself is the shield against the doomsday tribe of scribes and cynics. It’s possible, the organised religion may adopt new forms of expression, new styles or action inconsonance with the Zeitgeist or "time-spirit", but that, one may add, is the chief characteristic of all organic and vibrant species of life. The Yogi Harbhajan Singh phenomenon in the United States — the conversion to the pristine aspects of Sikhism of a small section of the American youth for over three decades or so — itself should prove the enduring enfranchisement of the creed. A limited example, but it’s symbolic of the inherent strengths of the Khalsa.

The need, therefore,to modernise our outlook, our strategies of revival and rejuvenation, becomes an urgent imperative. The Sikh diaspora, in particular,would need new directions, new ways to remain in step with the reality back home and with the reality overseas. The moment of the Khalsa ought to be the moment of truth, and even in the midst of rejoicings, grand centenary marches and conferences, we may remember that greatness and glory lie more in meaningful recoveries and fruitful reorientations than in eyeful spectacles, or in brave shows of fabulous ceremonies.