When we were Kings
If a Sikh commits a crime, why must I feel the need to comment on it publicly? Did I in some way contribute to the crime? Did some facet of our shared way of life influence the committing of the crime? If the answer to the previous two questions is no, perhaps there is some personal perspective which requires it of me: I could be a news journalist publishing a report... but that isn't commentary, just facts. Perhaps the geographical region in which the crime was committed is local to me and I am bound by familial and social ties to pass comment? Makes more sense than any other, but in my case as editor of naujawani - a longstanding voice within the Sikh and Punjabi world - that wouldn't be relevant. What would be, is to ask the question why so many UK Sikhs and Sikh orgs have focused on publishing statements and sharing their sentiments this past week about a situation where they, and our way of life, has played no part in the crime committed.
The murder of Henry Novak was a heinous crime. It angers many that such a senseless crime could be committed. Members of the Sikh community in the UK share in this sentiment; and just like some of the white people in the UK who are choosing to channel that anger through rage towards migrants, the Police forces, and the ruling Government of the day, in no particular order, those Sikhs choose to comment online in a misguided sense of defence of who we are and how we are perceived. The urge to do this comes from the absence of a sovereign mindset. Harsh? Maybe. As Khalsa though, I know no other mindset. Of course we are compassionate, and empathetic; but why speak in this instance and not others? It points to a malaise that stems from a lack of the regal power we were bestowed with by the Tenth Master. We were made Kings. Kings who don't lack the common touch, yes, but Kings who act, not react.
When we were Kings, we didn't concern ourselves with what others thought of us; the only entity that mattered for us as individuals and as a collective was the Guru - Granth Sahib and Panth Khalsa. This doesn't mean that we don't do the right thing, or disrespect those around us by ignoring their pain; but it does mean that we set our own agenda, not dance to the tune of the political balladeer or the town crier. It is for those who operate in the areas of the Media, Press, and Public Affairs on behalf of the community to speak. Not every org, Gurdwara, and influencer.
When we were Kings, we did not fear the other because we did not see any other, only One Divine Design intricately and wondrously weaving its spell everywhere. As events unfold, like this one, we try to make sense of them like everyone else, but we recognise it is part of a much grander canvas, one that is beyond our understanding. We belie that thinking today out of fear, seeking validation and in hope of respect - because we have an absence of self-worth and dignity. I take no pleasure if we are attacked in reprisals, or if our kirpans are removed, but seeking succour from anyone but the Guru is not our way.
When we were Kings, our Gurdwareh were places that presented the divine wisdom of the Guru; our scholars imparted thoughtfulness; our Jathe and Jathedars led by their very aura. We established divisions and units to speak on all facets of life, to provide diplomacy, to implement strategy. We can still be Kings. It does not require us to seek the blessings of any, other than Divinity. We can be caring, sensitive, and comforting, without feeling the need for us all to say a thing. As Kings with the crown bestowed by the Guru, there is a sacred trust we should apply to be civil in an uncivilised world. Kings need not raise their voices to be heard.*
