Roopinder Singh on the chord that this Baisakhi struck
among people at Anandpur Sahib

Kirtan, kirpan and kesri

"IT was 299 years of the birth of the Khalsa, it is now 300 years, next year it will be 301, I thought it is just a chronology…. I read about various things that were happening here, and I thought I would rather stay in America," said Dr Satkirpal Kaur, an American who became a Sikh in the seventies.

Yet she was there in Anandpur Sahib. A number of others were there too from various countries, and, of course, a large number of people had come from all over Punjab for the tercentenary celebrations.

There were massive crowds with more people continuously pouring in…. hundreds of thousands — men and women alike, with children in tow, more often than not perched atop their father’s shoulders. All of them patiently bore the hot sun, helping each other, singing shabads, or just murmuring Satnam Waheguru. They were not talking to each other, not even pointing to various things as people often do on such occasions; they seemed absorbed in a religious fervour that was more marked as it was quiet, though intense. However, this was a religious function in the broadest sense of the term, a celebration of the spirit of the Sikhs at its egalitarian best.

As you drove to Anandpur Sahib, you joined a long caravan of buses, trucks, tractor-trailers and cars, all packed to capacity, driving along Guru Gobind Singh Marg with rare abandon. People waved flags to make you stop, Kuch taan chhak lo ji— eat something, at least take a refreshing drink.

This was a visible reaffirmation of the spirit of togetherness and involvement that such events bring out, one that transcends the routine that bogs us down all too often. It was people who dominated the show. An eclectic mix of a largely rural Punjab, in its entirety, young and old, men and women, those who observed various facets of the faith strictly, and those who did not. There was also a dash of the exotic — visitors, from cities as near as Chandigarh to those who had travelled across many countries to be a part of this event.

Brushed aside were the sectarian shadows of the fear-ridden phase of militancy. That was a thing of the past, it was history that was brought up in references like "look what happened when we strayed from the path of the Gurus."

Political manoeuvrings also met with the same fate, people went to various venues not because of who was running the show there, but because most of the time what they heard there was gurbani. Every venue was full, the town was overflowing, and people sought shelter and solace wherever they could find it.

The crush of the crowd was tremendous, as was the good-humoured way in which they made way for the VIP cars and their police escorts—even as they asked what was it that made them so important that they couldn’t walk with the rest. There was no pushing, often various crowd-control commands were punctuated with Waheguru ji, and they were followed.

The police, which maintained an unobtrusive and polite presence, tells us that this was a virtually crime-free zone for the period, and considering the way men and women were moving around all the time, during the day and at night, it is quite easy to believe that.

They were all there, a wide gathering of Sikhs — ordinary villagers, Nihang Singhs, American converts to Sikhism, non-resident Indian Sikhs, et al — as well as Hindus and Muslims (that this didn’t make news was in itself news) and people of other denominations. Some stood out — Nihangs in their blue robes, Americans in their white robes, RSS workers in their khakis, and some did not — even though they were dresses in their "Baisakhi best". Saffron — turbans, dupattas, scarfs and even kirpan straps — dominated the scene.

Such was the crowd that many could not make it to Takht Sri Kesgarh Sahib to pay obeisance. But it really didn’t matter — they were there, were they not? And there were so many gurdwaras, deras and other places to go to.

The Baisakhi spirit was everywhere, there was a mela on, complete with a small circus, the many, many hawkers selling various things, people walking hand in hand, late into the night. This was a family occasion, and women were there in large numbers. They all partook of the langar prepared and served by volunteers on the way to their destination, and then carried on….

At night the town was transformed as thousands of lights lit up the sky. The white gurdwaras and other prominent buildings were silhouetted by light bulbs against the backdrop of a dark sky; it was an occasion for some more sightseeing, made easier by the fact that at night the air was cool, and the rush somewhat less.

For many families, the sky was the roof as they rested for the night at whichever place gave them a shelter from the not-yet-tired milling throng. Arrangements, though extensive, were not enough.

There was a devotional spirit among those who were there, a positive bonhomie which made interaction with total strangers easy, which made it easier for those across various social divides to interact with each other at a simple, human level, where various needs and uncertainties are all too similar.

It was this spirit that made the event so special. We were part of the audience comprising thousands of men and women who had made Anandpur Sahib their home for the moment. We were seated in a valley looking up to a hillock were gurbani was rendered by the Singh Bandhu and others. As Satwinder Singh, a young man from Malerkotla, said: "This is how it must have been hundreds of years ago, I feel something I haven’t felt before." He did, so did many others who heard the sound of kirtan from the many places where all-night kirtan was held that night. This experience is something that will stay in the mind for a long, long time, as will

Next year it will be 301 years, but a lot of people will remember the time they were there for the tercentenary celebrations, as will Satkirpal Kaur.