A Guru and his martyrdom remembered in Canada

A Sikh Guru, his assassination and his desolate followers attempting to save his life. These were the themes of the play performed in Toronto last week, to remember the ninth Sikh Guru, Guru Tegh Bahadur. A group of about dozen common people, men and women, gather around a mosque-like structure in the centre, behind which the Guru is expected to be killed in the coming days. This place is guarded by Emperor Aurangzeb’s guards and representatives.

The Punjabi Arts Association organised this play to commemorate the 350th death anniversary of Guru Tegh Bahadur Singh. He was executed November 11, 1675, by Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb in Delhi. The Sikh community across the globe is holding ceremonies to mark this anniversary.

The event was held at The Rose Theater in Brampton, Toronto, on Sunday. The play was written by late Harcharan Singh, iconic Punjabi playwright credited with popularising theatre in Punjab.

Though a passionate epic, performed with the fervour it deserved by an ensemble of over two dozen actors, the narration was careful not to stir controversy or hurt religious sentiments. The Guru was never depicted, nor was Aurangzeb. There was a slight stereotyping of Muslim representatives of the emperor, who spoke Punjabi in a different accent. However, the play also depicted Muslim Sufis, fakirs, and otherwise ordinary people who defended the Guru and opposed his death sentence. This implicitly reinforced the argument that it was power politics, not religious dictates, that compelled Aurangzeb to commit this crime.

In the initial part of the play, there are arguments and attempts to save the Guru, but he is executed, bringing the first act to a mournful yet dramatic end. The body of the Guru is stolen by his followers to give him dignified last rites, but the emperor’s men see this as punishable dissent. Thus, a lengthy court hearing follows, which is the only part of the play that felt a bit jarring.

The play ends with the announcement of the tenth Guru, Guru Gobind Singh, who is still a minor at the time of his father’s death. This gives the followers of the late Guru hope, both on stage and among the audience, who clapped joyfully.

All actors were precise and well-rehearsed. However, the artiste who stood out was Harleen Kaur who played “Pagli”,  a woman portrayed as emotionally challenged but spiritually ahead of everyone. She loudly and vehemently conveys her opposition of the plans to execute the Guru. Her intense performance won her the loudest accolades. Another extra who stood out was Gurvinder Kaur, who is mostly a silent woman on the side but intervenes when Pagli is about to be taken away by the King’s guards. She also performed namaz alongside the action, offering the audience, and yours truly, a rare and fascinating experience: witnessing a prayer being performed during a live theatre production. Other notable performances were those of Prabh Chahal, who played Lakhi Shah, and Love Dhawan, who portrayed a Sufi faqir with panache. Dhawan also embellished his performance by singing sufi kalam.

Most of the action centred around men, but the writer and director carefully gave women a significant presence through the role of Pagli, women extras who spoke up or sang, and the background music.

The best male performer was Mridul Sharma, who played Jaita with abandon. The two main villains, Jay Kang as Qaazi and Riaz Cheema as Naazar, were also convincing — and at times even comical — in their desperation to control the protesting crowds. Cheema, a Sialkoti and former Pakistan Air Force officer, was the only Pakistani in the cast.

The director of the play was Sarabjeet Singh Arora. Arora gave the final speech and introduced the cast. His belief in the script and the talent of his ensemble was evident in every word he uttered. Many of them were raised in Canada, and therefore required Punjabi training, but no one made any mistake in pronunciation or diction. The cast practised for months on their own time, and separate scenes required separate shifts for practice.

Women were active behind the scenes too. The two Assistant Directors of the play were also girls – Harnoor Kaur and Arshdeep Kaur Sandhu. They both dedicated additional hours and helped the project to come to fruition. The costumes were designed by Aditi Sheoran and were appropriate, neither lavish nor anachronistic. The fabrics were mostly cotton and the colours were dim because those days didn’t have synthetic dyes. Women did wear maroon and deep yellow, which stood out. The costumes depicted the class difference accurately, the poor and famished supporters of the Guru, and the privileged representatives of the king in their colorful turbans and jewels.

The music of the play was outstanding and composed especially for this play by Navjot Singh Narula. A soulful tabla and sarangi accompanied the play live. The feather in the crown was Raminder Singh. She recorded the Shabd “Mein Rovandi, Jag Rovanda..” in Toronto and her rendition stood out for its softness and melody.

The two-act play was largely attended by the Sikh community, as well as a few Pakistanis who relished Dr Harcharan Singh’s sonorous Punjabi epic. The hall, which had nearly 800 people, included a significant number of children, for whom this was likely their first introduction to the ninth Guru’s tragic persecution.

The audience was composed mostly of members of the Sikh community, along with some Pakistanis and Indians. Children of all ages were present. One of the aims of the play was to educate them about their heritage in an engaging and lively way. And because the story was dramatised, it will likely stay with them for a long time.

As a Pakistani, I hadn’t realised that two Sikh Gurus were executed by the Mughals. I only knew of Guru Arjan Dev, who was martyred near the Lahore Fort, a place I’ve visited many times. I also learned that his execution was ordered by Jahangir, not Aurangzeb, as I had previously thought. It was during the play that I discovered the story of Guru Tegh Bahadur and his martyrdom in Delhi, much like some of the children in the audience.

Stories of sacrifice, especially those involving the ultimate sacrifice of life, play a vital role in uniting a community, much like the crucifixion of Jesus does for Christians. They remind believers of the core tenets of their faith and of those who gave everything to uphold them. These are not just stories of grief, but also bravery and strength. They hold immense significance and for me, it was a glimpse into one of the darker chapters of Punjabi history, one I had been unaware of until that moment.