1 SPIRITUAL DETOX

Since the new year, I've kept seeing and hearing that five-lettered buzz word - DETOX.  All that media hype even gave me a little push to go buy a juicer, lay off the wheat and dairy, and fill my fridge with broccoli.  Although I tend to be wary of fashionable crazes, there's a lot of sound sense in the call to detox.  It's about learning to free your mind and body from an accumulation of bad habits which have bogged them down. Once you've broken through the initial hurdles, old temptations start to lose their grip and you can learn to relax and enjoy new tastes.   By getting into the swing of a healthy regime, we begin feeling rejuvenated and somehow liberated, each at our own pace. 

The whole detox wave also made me think of my Sikh background.   As far as consumption goes, Sikhism encourages a smoking-free, alcohol-free and meat-free lifestyle, and cleanliness is emphasised in all preparation of food. Although many Sikhs debate the issue of total vegetarianism and might also drink, there’s usually unanimous recoil when it comes to smoking.   Devout Sikhs or those who have taken Amrit - a ceremony in which they pledge to live a disciplined lifestyle - they certainly will be particular about what they consume - they’ll have vowed not to smoke or drink, and will often be vegetarian.  It's easy to read these as just rules, but it's an approach which becomes naturally part of a lifestyle.

Stomachs aside, Sikhism proscribes what can be described as a mental and spiritual detox.  The human condition is seen as subject to five instincts - lust, anger, greed, attachment and selfishness.  We need these for survival, but we can also end up consumed in their grip.  By practising meditation and prayer, directing our energies outwardly to help others, and interacting with people who will expand our spirits, we can unravel and unlearn negative drives and transform our minds through a steady and spontaneous process.  For this, we must also have the ability to 'let go' and not keep our eyes forever fixed to the steering wheel: Sikhism teaches that the real fruits of our efforts come when we lose our self-centredness and become open to the grace of God.  Sometimes, it’s easy to cringe at religious discipline.  After all, it seems pointless if you only end up preoccupied with resisting temptation.  But with the right outlook and balance, a personal regime can lead to a very fulfilling and creative type of freedom. 

2 THE SIGNIFICANCE OF VAISAKHI

This week, it’s Vaisakhi, a spring festival for anyone who comes from the Punjab, the land of five rivers which falls on either side of the India-Pakistan border.  Each year in Britain, Vaisakhi comes hand in hand with Easter time and the coming of Spring.  Back in the Punjab, it’s a reason for much joviality & celebration.

For Sikhs, whose faith originated in the Punjab, Vaisakhi has a very special religious significance: it marks the creation of the Khalsa in 1699.  Sikhism had begun over two centuries before, evolving through the lives of 10 Sikh Gurus, starting with Guru Nanak Dev Ji.  This allowed Sikh teaching to stand the test of time & respond to changes and challenges in the social climate. 

Guru Gobind Singh Ji, the tenth Guru, eventually formalised the Sikh way of life by establishing the Khalsa order in a ceremony of initiation.  This was done through the giving of Amrit, or holy water, which embodied the balanced qualities of the Khalsa personality: it was prepared in a steel bowl & stirred with a double-edged sword, conveying strength & resilience; it was sweetened by the Guru’s wife with sugar crystals, infusing it with kindness and compassion; it also absorbed the powerful chanting of prayers to bring it sacredness & sanctity.  The first to take Amrit were Five Beloved Ones, who had stood a rigorous test of love and loyalty.  Then, incredibly, the supreme Guru himself bowed before his five disciples, entreating them to bless him too with Amrit.

This was a momentous event in Sikh and Punjabi history.  After many generations of the Gurus' nurture and guidance, the Khalsa was the pinnacle of their vision of an ideal person; after much patient chiselling and crafting, this felt like the timely unveiling of a masterpiece.  Politically, there was much oppression in the Punjab, and the Khalsa became a force to be reckoned with, saint-soldiers dedicated to upholding humanitarian causes when all peaceful means had failed, ethical, fearless but compassionate in their conduct.

Growing up in Britain, the Vaisakhi story always reminded me of the nobility & valour associated with mythic figures like Hercules.  But the Khalsa is part of recent history, just over 300 years ago, & for Sikhs to this day, it provides a dynamic source of inspiration, reminding us of values we must all cherish amidst the challenges of everyday life.      

3 WHAT’S IN A NAME?

What’s in a name?  As a child I remember being fascinated by those Native American names that conjured up qualities from the natural world, like Sitting Bull and Little Turtle.  It seemed the keeper of such a name would embody that quality, acquire self-esteem from it & respect from others.  Also that very quality, encapsulated in a name, somehow became venerated and treasured. 

Perhaps it was easy for me to feel captivated by another, almost by-gone, culture like this, which had become the stuff of glossy films & Hollywood fantasy.  But all of us, I suppose, can find inspiration from our name-giving traditions.  It’s just that these days, names have lost their original depth & dimension, and become our nice-sounding labels.

Being a Sikh, I'm conscious that names distinguish us as a community: the name Singh identifies Sikh men and Kaur, K-A-U-R, Sikh women.  Both are used either as a middle name or surname and originate from words associated with royalty, which denote a princely status.  These names were first formally given to Sikhs when the tenth Guru created the Khalsa order in 1699, during the annual festival of Vaisakhi which we celebrate this week.  They are seen as a gift from him and carry an almost epic quality.  When you understand that the time was one of severe oppression and the denial of basic rights, Sikh names affirmed that human life is precious and worthy of dignity.  For Sikhs, sovereignty also means that true rule must be founded on compassion for people, and the courage to uphold just values.  This was also a reason for Sikhs to wear a princely turban and carry a small sword or kirpan, a reminder that humanity must be cherished.

Singh and Kaur are also a way to distinguish gender because Sikh first names are unisex; they’re taken from scripture & reflect an aspect of the Divine: Jagdeep is ‘light of the world’; Amrit is ‘sacred nectar’, Balvir is ‘Brave Hero’, Dayal is ‘Compassionate One’ and Satnam is ‘True Name’.  Sikhs also believe that Naam, or the Divine Name, embodies the essence of God’s being. By meditating on this, and giving praise to God’s infinite attributes, we can connect with Him and elevate our own beings.  In the Sikh tradition then, the names we give and use are subconscious tools for us to deepen and broaden the mind, and to live in an inspired way. 

4 EMBLEMS OF THE SIKH NATION

In the past year, I moved from West London to the West Midlands. Both regions have a sizeable Sikh community, so the new surroundings feel a bit like a home from home; not only is the sight of a turbaned Sikh an everyday occurrence, but there are a good number of Sikh temples, or gurdwaras.  I recognise them from the saffron flag or Nishan Sahib which is hoisted in front, featuring the Sikh emblem called the khanda.  I’ve also begun to notice that it’s easy to identify a Sikh-owned car, from a small version of the Sikh flag dangling under the rear-view mirror!

As with all social groups, emblems can come to function merely as badges of identity, both for those who display them & for those who look at them.  But symbols can also have a powerful influence on the psyche and tell us something of the deepest points of focus for a community.  Every Easter, we remembered Christ’s suffering & resurrection, and with this in mind, an image of the cross speaks volumes.

Sikhs are now celebrating Vaisakhi and remembering the time when the Sikh way of life was formalised through the creation of the Khalsa in 1699.  It will be marked with religious services, cultural events and colourful street processions, now in a number of British cities, like London & Birmingham, my two home towns. 

During one Vaisakhi celebration, I remember being particularly struck at the symbolism behind the shape and colour of the khanda, which was in abundance everywhere.  Firstly, the dominance of the colour orange, which we call kesari, from the word for saffron.  I was dazzled by the energy and vibrancy of this colour; it seemed so apt for Sikhs who promote an outlook of faith and optimism against all the odds.  Blue, another favourite Sikh colour, balances this with its coolness and sense of contemplation. 

I was also struck by the Sikh symbol of the khanda itself.  A central circle represents the infinity, Oneness & grace of God.  A vertical double-edged sword upholds a sense of justice, freedom and responsibility.  It’s flanked by two crescent-shaped swords, a reminder to be dynamic and empowered- one in earthly life & two in spiritual life - so we don't just dismiss the here-and-now for the here-after.  The khanda reminds Sikhs to live responsibly and maintain a resilience of the mind, whilst also humbling themselves to the power & grace of God.  This Vaisakhi, whether we are Sikhs celebrating or just interested on-lookers, I hope we can see beyond badges and recognise the khanda for its worthiness and inspiration. 

5 SIKHS MARKING DEATH OF A LOVED ONE

We have all been touched in some way by the death of the Queen Mother. Her presence over the last century was like a quiet and gracious oak tree, standing splendidly in an ever-changing garden.  I used to think the same about my grandfather, who also died having lived an estimated century, and whose funeral was a tribute to a life that had come full circle.

In the early 1900s, Kehar Singh Panesar, then a young Sikh teenager, had travelled by ship from the Punjab to British East Africa, where he joined an influx of new workers on the railways.  In the late 60s, like many other East African Asians of British Nationality, he came with his family to the UK, settling in West London.  I have a memory as a little girl, watching him take English lessons, and wondering if some day I’d also have to learn English, as if this was just a symptom of growing old.  I remember Bhaiya Ji, as we called him, for his laid-back benevolence, for his occasional dash of a short temper, and for the great importance he placed on respect for others, irrespective of their background, with many stories from the past to demonstrate this.

His funeral was attended by friends and a large extended family, right down to the youngest of his great grandchildren.  Us youngsters were told not to wear white, which is traditional for Sikh funerals, but to dress in a colour, because when someone dies at such a grand old age, it’s a life worth celebrating and we must give thanks to God.  I’ve attended a good many other Sikh funerals, and even if someone has died prematurely, there is an overriding sense of acceptance and mutual support, with displays of grief being muted and restrained.   Instead, emotions and thoughts are channelled through the collective singing of hymns from Sikh scripture, which praise the completeness of God and remind us of the impermanence of this existence.  They also speak of death as a reason for each of us to reflect inwardly at our own lives and what we are making of them.  For me, there’s one strong image that shines through such verses: Remember that life is like a priceless jewel; it’s so easy to trade it away for worthless pennies.

It seems so natural to see the Queen Mother’s long life as a jewel, dignified, regal and radiant. It’s an obvious metaphor for royalty; for Sikhs it’s been a spur for them to seek inward self-esteem and maintain outward respect for others, and to see everyone’s life as a precious gift from God.