How the 1984 carnage politicised the Sikh paghri

Legend has it that the turban was made an integral part of Sikhism in 1699 by the last or the tenth guru, Gobind Singh.

He is also credited with the concept of chardi kala (the rising spirit); sawa lakh se ik ladaon (one single Sikh fighting a hundred and twenty-five thousand people-suggestive of unyielding courage in the face of impossible odds) and laid out a path to realise Guru Nanak's objectives in which the creation of the Khalsa Panth or Order was integral. Khalsa or a "pure" Sikh was deemed as one who carried and exhibited on his person the five articles of faith or the five ks: kesh, kara, kanga, kachcha and kirpan (unshorn hair and beard, steel bracelet, wooden comb, drawers or underpants and sword). Therefore, the turban was not an "adornment" which could be replaced by a cap or by keeping the hair matted.

It was first adopted as a necessity and gradually converted into a symbol of faith.

The orthodoxy amongst Sikhism often argue that by tying a turban, a Sikh affirms his commitment to the principles of justice and equality and that he or she assumes the role of an ambassador of faith.

However, during the pre-insurgency period in Punjab, the turban was by and large a personal choice and not necessarily an assertion of one's religiosity. Yet, even amongst non-believers, the turban represented a freedom of choice and the attempts to forcibly take it away, a violation of human rights. It is only when Sikhs began to be viewed with suspicion that significant groups within the community moved closer to the more strident aspect of the faith preached by Guru Gobind Singh than the benign and anti-ritual teachings of Guru Nanak Dev.

And with the outward signs of the Khalsa Order and most importantly, the turban ascribing a self-image to Sikhs' cultural-religiosity, the headgear became mandatory.

For instance, on the morning of November 1, veteran journalist Sunil Sethi's query (at fellow scribe Coomi Kapoor's home) was "normal", when viewed against this backdrop. He saw her Sikh neighbours and instantly shot out: "Where has your turban gone? Why are you guys wearing cricket caps?" 

Sethi narrated this incident while moderating a discussion on the anti-Sikh carnage in Delhi in February 2014. Both the father and son had taken off their turbans (the young boy anyway wore a patka), rolled up their hair on top of their heads, and rested cricket caps over it. While Delhi was burning, Sunil found himself making a query that was clearly tragicomic. Tragic because Sunil thought of making a similar suggestion to his Sikh neighbours who had taken refuge in his house. Comic because in a city where smoke was rising from all directions, Sunil found himself asking a ludicrous question: "Where can I get these cricket caps?"

At the panel discussion, Sunil mentioned the incident to emphasise that for most non-Sikhs like him, the loss of hair and turban was the first ominous sign.

As mentioned above, prior to the separatist movement in Punjab, Sikh identity was not necessarily centered either around the turban or the kirpan. In the Punjab of yore, it was fairly common for Punjabi Hindu families to pledge their eldest male child as a keshdhari (bearer of long hair), while other male members of the same family wore their hair short.

Traditionally speaking, there were three distinct categories amongst Sikhs: amritdhari (the pristine one who underwent the amrit-imbibing ritual-a form of baptism); keshdhari and sahajdhari (born into Sikh families but sans an overt Sikh identity). Before the insurgency in Punjab began dominating public debate in north India, Sikhs could opt for any variant, but still be regarded as part of the community.

But beginning with the early 80s, sahajdhari Sikhs were no longer considered members of the community and the lines between amritdharis and keshdharis gradually blurred.

As one of the dominant signatures of the 1984 carnage was to deny surviving male Sikhs recognition, many accepted the diktat and over time slowly obliterated their identities while others fought on. The struggle for retaining or moving on from a socially acceptable identity as a Sardar continued and was yet to be resolved. Some, like Sunil Sethi and Coomi Kapoor's friends opted for a tactical alteration in their looks which enabled them to be passed off as non-Sikhs and once the situation went back to normalcy, they returned to their previous identities.

Among those whose hair was either forcibly cut or those who clipped them of their own accord, significant numbers "went back" to looking like Sikhs, while others remained faithfuls but were nervous of returning to their previous avatars.

Even among those who did not alter their identity during 1984, many eventually succumbed to pressure from the constant gawking and extra-scrutiny from security forces.

From the beginning of 1984, especially after Operation Blue Star, a "reverse discovery" of identity also surfaced amongst the Sikhs. Several who, in a sense, "returned home", donned the outward Sikh identity not because they sympathised with Sikh separatists but out of a sense of outrage against the government's decision to send in troops into the Golden Temple and of being labelled as traitors by the State. For the orthodoxy, such "homecoming" was welcome, but in the 1990s, after reports of a sharp decline in amritdhari and keshdhari Sikhs, there were concerted efforts at the community level and local gurudwaras to restore the religious identity of Sikhs. Rama Lakshmi in the Washington Post examined the rising trend of cutting hairamongst Sikhs in Punjab, as follows:

Although there are no formal surveys, community groups say that only 25 percent of Sikhs younger than 30 follow the practice. Many young Sikhs say the daily tedium of combing and tying up their long hair and a desire to assimilate are pushing them to give up the turban…

On the other hand, there were also a few courses in "turban tying", particularly for the young. In April 2005, a self-styled group called, Akal Purakh Ki Fauj or the Army of the Timeless Being, organised an annual Turban Pride Day. It sent volunteers to teach turban-tying in schools, introduced a software program called Smart Turban to help people pick a style that suited them besides organising Kaumi Dastaarbandi Smaagam encouraging children to tie dastaars or short turbans (also worn by Sikh women). Other groups established motivational camps where special sessions were held periodically.

But the issue remains unresolved, partly because of dissent amongst various groups over what constitutes Sikhism and Sikh identity. Several contend that in order to be a true Sikh, one must undergo baptism and lead a regulated life, with abstinence as the cornerstone. Then there are others who believe that a true Sikh is someone who keeps his hair unshorn. Still others hold the view that following the gurbani or the word of god is sufficient.

It is consequently evident that the turban is not essential in the construction of the Sikh identity. But this perception gets altered in the view of not just non-Sikhs but also official bodies like the Shiromani Gurudwara Prabandhak Committee or SGPC, which grants exclusive voting rights for elections to its management committee to amritdhari and keshdhari Sikhs despite a strong sentiment in favour of the sehajdharis.

The principal institutions of Sikhism lay overt emphasis on orthodoxy - which, in the recent past, came to be put on even keel with Sikh separatism. As in the case of most religious minorities the world over, being devout is often also interpreted as political radicalism. As a result, Sikh identity in the personal realm has failed to come into its own and remains cloistered in a narrow view of what defines a male Sikh.