A Pathan was once seen holding a paintbrush in his hand. A poet said to him that the feeble paintbrush did not suit him and he should hold a sword instead. The Pathan replied that with this paintbrush he would make such paintings that those who saw and experienced them would be inspired to take up the sword. This is the hope that has motivated the establishment of the museum…. The paintings have been displayed so that people in India and abroad come to know of the glorious historical legacy, sacrifices and achievements (of the Sikhs). We are confident that this museum dedicated to martyrs will inspire the young generation to become Sikhs, Singhs and Khalsa, true to the faith.
– Excerpt from the text on a panel at the entrance of Bhai Mati Das Museum, Sis Ganj Gurdwara, Chandni Chowk, Delhi1 (Fig. 01)
Painting Sikh History in Contemporary India
Fig. 02A visit to any Sikh museum is a fascinating experience. One encounters a series of paintings displayed along the walls of the museum (Fig. 02) which narrate the story of the Sikh past. There are images of the ten Sikh Gurus and their most dedicated followers, illustrating well-known stories from their lives, battle scenes and vividly depicted scenes of martyrdom. These paintings have the ability to engage and draw the viewer into their world – the history of the Sikhs. Made in Western realistic style, using oil on canvas, these paintings are accompanied by short narratives explaining the scene (often in more than one language such as Punjabi, English and Hindi) – the effect is like an illustrated storybook opening up before the viewer.
The tremendous pedagogical value of these ‘history paintings’2 is acknowledged in the quote with which this essay begins, taken from the introductory panel at Bhai Mati Das Museum. The museum was made by the Delhi Sikh Gurdwara Management Committee (DSGMC) in 2001. The paintings in the museum call upon the Sikhs to emulate the martyrs: to embark upon the path of the true faith by becoming Khalsa,3 and to be prepared to defend their faith no matter what the conditions. A cursory glance at these paintings makes it clear that such a message is directed specifically at the male Sikh, for it is the Khalsa and the martyr who is an icon of all that is deemed glorious in Sikh history.
These paintings are not confined to the portals of museums, but are widely reproduced across varied spheres of cultural production and popular genres. They are found in academic works, books for children, calendars, posters, advertisements, animation films and sculptures, and their imagery is invoked in ballads. They enjoy tremendous popularity in the Sikh community and are a major source of both history and, indeed, cultural identity for the Sikhs. Their significance as a pedagogic tool is only enhanced by their presence in the museum.4
Here, it would be useful to consider the historical context of the history paintings of the Gurus and martyrs and the museums which house them. There are a number of Sikh museums established in independent India both by the gurdwara (Sikh shrine) management committees and by the government. The first to be established, in 1958, is the Central Sikh Museum (Kendriya Sikh Ajaibghar) in the Darbar Sahib (Golden Temple, the holiest Sikh shrine) in Amritsar, Punjab. A number of museums have come up since, with many established in the 1970s. Some of these include the Baghel Singh Museum in Bangla Sahib Gurdwara, New Delhi (renovated and reopened in 2014), Anglo-Sikh War Memorial, Ferozepur, Punjab (1976), Guru Tegh Bahadur Museum, Anandpur Sahib, Punjab (1983) and Bhai Mati Das Museum, Sis Ganj Gurdwara, Delhi (2001). The emergence of the Sikh museum is a phenomenon particular to independent India, and it is useful to see it in the context of the 1960s and ’70s being a time for a ‘push for re-engagement with tradition and development of pedagogical tools to support this engagement.’5 As Deepa Sreenivas has argued, these decades in postcolonial India marked ‘a major turning point in national life. The exuberance and hope that characterised the Nehruvian era rapidly gave way to disillusionment among various sections of society.’6 In her study of the Amar Chitra Katha (ACK) series of popular comic books which featured stories from Indian (primarily Hindu) mythology and history, she points out that this is precisely the time of ACK’s emergence: ‘[in the 1970s]...a right-wing critique of Nehruvian socialism, and its proposals for a new India, began to be articulated with increasing self-assurance.... In keeping with the ethic of bourgeois individualism, it [the middle class that grew in post-Independence years] demanded a masculinisation of the self in place of special rights granted by the state to disadvantaged sections of society on the basis of caste, community or gender. ACK’s call for a re-engagement with tradition and the attempt to rebuild a sense of confidence and pride through a backward glance at a rich and glorious past inserts itself into this demand.’7 It is useful to see the rise and growth of Sikh museums and history paintings in this context. They too are an extremely popular visual tool which serves the pedagogical purpose of teaching about the glorious past of the Sikhs. And, as in the case of ACK, the male figure (here, the male Sikh figure) is the primary icon for presenting this glorious past.8
In addition, we must consider the specifics of Sikh politics in postcolonial India. In the years leading up to the Independence of India and the Partition in 1947, there was a deep sense of anxiety within the Sikh community about their position as a minority, in a Muslim-dominated Pakistan on the one hand, and a Hindu-dominated India on the other. The mood of ‘dejection, resentment and indignation’9 at the proposals leading up to the division of the country seemed to continue in the decades after Independence, especially in the agitation for the Punjabi Suba in the late 1950s and ’60s.10 The demand for a Punjabi Suba gradually mutated into a demand for a Sikh homeland, leading up to the militant movement for a separate and autonomous Sikh state of Khalistan in the ’80s and ’90s.11
The 1970s and ’80s were a period of religious revivalism following rapid changes in the rural economy. The emergence of Sikh museums and history paintings should be seen in this context. Issues of Sikh identity and their place in the Indian nation were a theme common to these political agitations, and are most visibly expressed in the popular visual culture of the Sikhs in stories of the glorious Sikh past, deployed through the icon of the male Khalsa Sikh. This essay will examine a selection of Sikh history paintings specifically for the representation of the male Khalsa figure. It will discuss the relevance of this figure for an understanding of the Sikh community’s self-identity and its engagement with the idea of the Indian nation and other communities within it.
Fig. 03Guru Nanak and the Sikh ‘Look’Perhaps one of the most easily recognizable images in contemporary India is the image of the first Sikh Guru, Nanak (1469–1539) as shown in Fig. 03.
This iconic portrait of Guru Nanak was created by Sobha Singh, a renowned artist from Punjab whose portraits of the Sikh Gurus went on to gain tremendous popularity.12 It was commissioned by the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee (SGPC)13 in the 1950s or the ’60s.14 The painting shows a venerable Guru Nanak with a flowing white beard. He has a yellow turban wrapped around his head, is dressed in a loose robe and has a shawl draped over his shoulders. The background is diffused, Nanak’s eyes are heavy or half-closed in spiritual ecstasy, and he looks directly at the viewer, his hand raised in blessing.
Fig. 04However, this is not always how Nanak was represented.15 Sobha Singh’s mid-20th-century Nanak is closer to the Khalsa ideal than the late 19th-century prints representing the first Guru that it came to supplant in the popular imaginary. Let us consider the example of a 19th-century depiction of Guru Nanak: the cover page of Janam Sakhi Sri Guru Babe Nanak Di (the Janam Sakhi or life stories of Sri Guru Baba Nanak), printed in the year 1883 at Victoria Press, Lahore (Fig. 04). Guru Nanak is shown with his two companions, Bala on the left holding a flywhisk, and Mardana on the right, identifiable by the rabab (a stringed musical instrument) he holds. Guru Nanak’s iconography is of special interest here: he is seated under a tree on a mat or a low platform (takht), and a caged parrot hangs from the tree. Nanak wears a crown (mukut) on his head – which is also distinguished by a halo – and his forehead is adorned with a tilak (religious mark). He is dressed in loose robes and holds a rosary in one hand.
According to scholars, the iconography of Nanak in the 18th and even into the 19th century drew upon a wider visual tradition of representing holy men like sadhus, pirs and sanyasis. It is not surprising from this point of view that images of Nanak from this period show him with ‘a strange motley of Hindu and Muhammadan religious habiliments: a wandering recluse’s cloak to cover the body; a loose sheet of cloth thrown over it like a “safa” or “angavastra”; a Muslim qalandar’s cap over his head; a necklace of beads slung across the body; a tilak mark on the forehead.’16 The caged parrot motif is identifiable with the Nathpanthis.17 H.W. McLeod argues that the iconography of Nanak in 19th-century prints – the tilak, the crown, the caged parrot – represents a popular view of the Sikh tradition which is marked by a plurality of religious practices.18 These elements, McLeod points out, will gradually disappear from popular visual culture in subsequent decades as Sikh identity becomes more narrowly defined.19
The move away from a plurality of influences in visual culture parallels the transformations within the Sikh community in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. According to Harjot Oberoi, the Khalsa Sikh identity was only one among many other Sikh identities and formed part of a ‘sanatan’ tradition where Punjabis of different denominations, including Sikhs, shared their religious and cultural practices, such as worshipping idols and living Gurus, pilgrimages to the shrines of sufis and local deities, and the like.20 Popular prints from the late 19th century attest to this pluralistic ‘sanatan’ tradition. One finds woodcuts depicting idol worship in the Golden Temple, Amritsar. The late 19th-century reform movement in Punjab, called the Singh Sabha, argued that these were deviant practices and therefore had to be shunned by one who wished to emerge as a true Sikh. As Louis Fenech notes, ‘To the dismay of Sikh reformers, the parikarma [path of circumambulation] of the Golden Temple, the bastion of Sikhism, was constantly thronged by Brahman priests displaying the idols of Hindu gods and goddesses, a fact that had been decried in the Khalsa Akhbar newspaper.’21 Further, the Singh Sabha was instrumental in the rise of the Khalsa Sikh identity as the normative and dominant Sikh identity, at the cost of other Sikh traditions, such as the Udasis.22 Most significantly, the Singh Sabha, and subsequently the Gurdwara Reform Movement inspired by it, were successful in consolidating a Sikh identity distinct from a Hindu one.
That these ‘sanatan’ images find little acceptance today is demonstrated by the controversy around Guru Nanak’s portrait in a school textbook in the state of California in the US in 2007. According to the news reports, the 19th-century painting of Guru Nanak used in the textbook showed him wearing a crown and a beard which appeared to be trimmed in a ‘Hindu’ or ‘Muslim’ fashion. The textbook was met by protests from the Sikh community in California. Their representatives suggested that an alternative photo (Sobha Singh’s well-known portrait of Nanak, Fig. 03 in this essay) should replace the 19th-century painting, as the former was the ‘acceptable’ image of Guru Nanak. In light of these protests, the original image was eventually removed.23
So, representations of the Sikh male were not always exclusively ‘Khalsa’, and in the late 19th century it was possible for a Sikh Guru, in fact, the founder of Sikhism, to be depicted with ‘non-Khalsa’ symbols.
Guru Gobind Singh and His Embodiment in the Khalsa
Fig. 05Sobha Singh’s portrait of Guru Gobind Singh (1666–1708) is as popular and iconic as his painting of Guru Nanak. In this work, the tenth and the last Guru is a distinctly royal person: he wears a decorated conical turban adorned with the kalgi (aigrette); his clothes are luxuriant and embroidered (Fig. 05). While all Sikh Gurus are popularly referred to as Patshah (king), Guru Gobind is the King of Kings. Sobha Singh’s painting also gives him a slightly forked beard and a moustache which is upturned at the tips. It shows the Guru to be an extremely handsome man. He is broad-shouldered and what many would consider well-built. He is shown gazing out into the distance and the expression on his face is one of determination, as if he has set his sights on something afar. In most Sikh households, it is common to find the images of Guru Nanak and Guru Gobind placed together.
However as Simeran Gell points out, it is not Nanak but Guru Gobind whose ‘look’ young male Sikhs are asked to emulate.24 Gell explains that this is because, firstly, with the institution of the Khalsa in 1699, Guru Gobind Singh gave the Sikhs his own form: Khalsa mero rup hai khas (the Khalsa is my form).25 In addition to this, we should consider the Sikh belief that Guru Gobind Singh transferred the guruship to the panth (community) and the granth (scripture). Thus, the male body carrying the Khalsa form embodies the guru-panth, and carries forward the form of the Guru. Indeed, the Sikh militant discourse of 1980s’ Punjab clearly envisaged the Sikh community as being defined by ‘ties between men’ (emphasis original), and the Khalsa Sikhs being the sons of Guru Gobind Singh. The true sons of the Guru must preserve their masculine features (especially the beard and the sword).26Gell further suggests that Guru Gobind Singh’s look symbolizes a king-like ‘exemplariness’ which tells his Sikhs to ‘never bow their heads before any temples, idols, Gods or persons. After Guru Gobind, a Sikh’s honour was to be sited in his very own person, and in a body that would remain indomitable, never capitulating to the indignity of supplicancy and dependency.’27
An interesting analysis is offered by Gell where she argues that these hypermasculine features of the Khalsa Sikhs are actually a ‘negation of the feminine’. Gell draws upon J.P.S. Uberoi’s formulation of ‘negation of negation’ being inherent in Sikhism where he argues that Sikh practices negate the undesirable aspects of certain symbols or practices through a conscious adoption and regulation of those very elements.28 Likewise for Gell, the 5 Ks of the masculine Sikh ‘look’ are a ‘negation of the feminine’ through an adoption of the feminine by the male Sikh body. She explains that all the symbols of the Khalsa, except the dagger – the long hair, comb, drawers, bangle – are typically associated with women. They are removed from their feminine associations and transformed into hypermasculine symbols in the Sikh male form.29
These qualities come together most powerfully in representations of the body of the male Khalsa martyr.
The Sikh Martyr in Popular Visual Culture
Scenes of martyrdom are prolific in Sikh visual culture in postcolonial India. Though there are martyrdom narratives in colonial media as well, they are not as prolific nor as graphic. The postcolonial images not only include battle scenes, but also graphic depictions of the torture and killing of the Sikhs at the hands of their Muslim opponents. In addition to works displayed in Sikh museums, popular tracts published by gurdwara committees and educational institutions regularly carry these images: there are gory and graphic scenes of Sikhs being cut into pieces, skinned alive and decapitated. However, the representation of martyrdom was not always prominent in Sikh visual culture. Among the prints available from the late 19th century, there are few depictions of violence. It is only from the 1920s that the earliest known prints depicting Sikh martyrdom appear. These specifically focus on two Sikh Gurus (Arjan and Tegh Bahadur) as martyrs. Further, it is only in the ’50s that we see an increasing representation of graphic scenes of torture and killing of the Sikhs. This is also the time when Sikh martyrs from the 18th century are increasingly depicted in Sikh visual culture.30
These changes in visual culture may be better understood in the context of Sikh politics of the early decades of the 20th century. Fenech’s work has demonstrated that in 1920s’ Punjab, under the sway of the Gurdwara Reform Movement,31 the ‘rhetoric of martyrdom’ achieved great currency – much more than it ever had previously. This was because of the Singh Sabha’s work which consolidated ‘the understanding of the Sikh as martyr and the history of the Sikh Panth as one made up principally of martyrs’.32 The theme of martyrdom and the identification of the Khalsa as the martyr had been very popularly deployed among the Akali agitators at this time. The stories of martyrs, especially Guru Arjan and Guru Tegh Bahadur, were narrated and sung at gatherings, and connections were drawn between the Akalis agitating for gurdwara reform and the Sikh martyrs from history. This likely explains the emergence of images depicting the martyrdom of these two Sikh Gurus in the 1920s.
Fig. 06One such image is Fig. 06, depicting the martyrdom of Guru Tegh Bahadur by artist Sri Ram.33 The Guru is shown sitting on a brick platform under a tree. He is dressed in loose robes and has a halo indicating his divine status. He calmly faces a man, likely to be a Muslim cleric,34 who is shown addressing the Guru. The executioner stands behind the Guru, ready to strike him with his sword. A crowd of onlookers is shown at the scene.
In independent India, there is a proliferation of such martyr images in commercial calendars, educational material, popular magazines, audio-visual media and in museums. And these images are no longer limited to the representation of the two martyr Gurus from an earlier period, but now increasingly focus on 18th-century martyrs, such as Banda Bahadur, Bhai Mani Singh, Bhai Taru Singh and Baba Deep Singh. Through the 18th century, there were bitter clashes between the Sikhs on the one hand, and the Mughals and the Afghans on the other. Some of the most dramatic and moving accounts of Sikh daring, bravery and martyrdom come from this period of history. Invariably, the Sikh martyrs are shown actively choosing martyrdom in defence of Sikhi (Sikh principles or faith), rather than converting to Islam or giving in to injustice. Some of the most popular prints are discussed in the sections that follow.
The Supreme Saint-Soldier: Baba Deep Singh
Fig. 07One of the most well-known poster prints on Sikh martyrs is the headless-warrior image of Baba Deep Singh made by artist G.S. Sohan Singh (Fig. 07).35According to Sikh tradition, Baba Deep Singh (1682–1757) was the head of the Damdami Taksal, a Sikh seminary. When he learned that a group of Muslims under the leadership of Jahan Khan were polluting and desecrating the Darbar Sahib, he decided to march to Amritsar and vowed to fight till he had rid the holy shrine of the desecrators. Failing that, he was prepared lay down his life at the Darbar Sahib. On their arrival, Baba Deep Singh’s band of Sikh men was vastly outnumbered by Jahan Khan’s troops. Still the fighting was furious, in the course of which Baba Deep Singh’s head was cut off in the battlefield. Legend has it that Baba Deep Singh held his head in one hand and continued fighting with his other hand until he reached the Darbar Sahib, where he finally breathed his last.
McLeod discusses the popularity of Baba Deep Singh’s print (Fig. 07) in contemporary India and argues that this particular image of Baba Deep Singh as a saint-warrior (sant-sipahi) has become so popular because it appears to combine the saintly look of Guru Nanak with the warrior qualities of Guru Gobind and the Khalsa.36 While the head held in one hand and dripping blood exudes pious composure, there is no stopping the body from heroically charging towards the enemy. This is a powerful representation of the male Khalsa’s determination, bravery and readiness for martyrdom in a noble cause. According to McLeod, the Baba Deep Singh of popular art is much more consequential than the historical Deep Singh, and images like these are invoked and circulated when the Sikh community is believed to be under grave threat.
Fig. 08The willingness to forfeit one’s head as a supreme sign of self-sacrifice is utilized outside the Sikh tradition as well. In seemingly secular contexts such as the struggle against British rule, the offering of one’s head as the supreme act of masculine self-sacrifice is deployed in dynamic ways. For example, the leaders of the Indian freedom movement such as Bhagat Singh and Subhas Chandra Bose are frequently shown offering their heads to Mother India, their blood enriching the nation.37 One such example is Fig. 08, a chromolithograph from the 1940s, in which shaheed (martyr) Bhagat Singh kneels in submission and offers his head before the figure of Mother India.
Similarly, the mobilization for the Ayodhya campaign (before the Babri Masjid demolition) in the year 1992 by extremist Hindu right-wing groups also exhorted the Hindu devotees (bhakts) to sacrifice their heads in defence of their religion.38 Offering one’s head is thus a popular image of supreme masculine sacrifice in some sectors of the visual economy. This imagery of Baba Deep Singh, however, is a relatively modern one amongst Sikhs.
Fig. 09Paintings of Baba Deep Singh and other Sikh martyrs existed earlier as well, such as in murals in various shrines in Punjab made in the late 19th century. However, there is a vast difference between these and images from the last century. For example, Fig. 09 is a mural at Baba Atal Gurdwara, depicting Baba Deep Singh. Here he is shown seated, cross-legged, his back supported by a balustrade. He is dressed like a warrior, wears armour, holds two swords, and his deep blue turban is decorated with quoits. This is a portrait of Baba Deep Singh: while the Gurmukhi text around his figure specifically identifies him as a martyr,39 there is no action or violence depicted. Modern printed representations of Baba Deep Singh, however, invariably show his headless body, his severed head held on an arm and dripping blood (Fig. 07). Sometimes he is depicted in action, charging into the battlefield, sword drawn.
The implications of such contrasting representations in warrior masculinity are discussed by Anuradha Kapur in her essay on the changing depictions of the Hindu god, Lord Ram.40 She compares the muscular, armed, aggressive and ready-for-battle Ram as depicted in the propaganda material circulating in the 1990s during the mobilization for the Ayodhya-Babri Masjid dispute with earlier 19th-century Pahari miniatures on the Ramayana, the epic story of Ram. In the latter, the scenes of great drama and action are not filled with exciting imagery. In fact, there is little eye contact with the viewer, or any dramatic movement by the figures depicted. In the 19th-century aesthetic template, there is ‘no immediacy to the event; no “here” and “now” is created. Time is in suspension, tempers, fears and violence are in suspension too.’41 Kapur explains that the entry of realism in the depiction of Ram (as in the Ram Janmabhoomi propaganda material) significantly alters the way we perceive these images. Realism as an aesthetic tool changes the viewers’ perception of the character, both in narrative and in form. In narrative, it removes the possibility of non-conformist behaviour. In form, ‘the body must correspond to the specific moment in the story. If the moment is of valour, then the representation will call up all the physical traits consistent with it.’42 This observation is relevant for Sikh visual culture in general where Sikh men are invariably shown with powerful muscular bodies, in keeping with the bravery and militant action expected of them. Further, with such bodies, they cannot do anything else but stand in defiance and engage in militant action. The realism adopted by the artists making Sikh history paintings in independent India has only further glorified the male Khalsa Sikh and the narratives of his martyrdom.
Never Give Up Sikhi! Bhai Mani Singh and Bhai Taru Singh
Bhai Mani Singh and Bhai Taru Singh are among the most revered martyrs in contemporary Sikh society.
Sikh tradition tells us that Bhai Mani Singh (c. 1670–c. 1737) was a scholar of Sikh scriptures and that he had a long history of serving the Sikh Gurus. He was the head priest of the Darbar Sahib when the then Mughal Governor of Punjab, Zakariya Khan, prohibited Sikhs from visiting the shrine. Bhai Mani Singh secured the Governor’s permission, in exchange for a sum of money, to allow the Sikhs to congregate at the shrine for celebrating Diwali. However, Bhai Mani Singh soon realized that the permission had been given with the motive of attacking the Sikhs. He cancelled the gathering and also did not pay the tribute that had been demanded by the Mughals. As a result, he was captured and given the option of either converting to Islam or being put to death. Bhai Mani Singh refused to give up his faith. Zakariya Khan ordered that Bhai Mani Singh should be dismembered, his body cut at each joint. Bhai Mani Singh fearlessly sat before the executioner, reciting the gurbani (holy sayings of the Sikh Gurus). As the executioner prepared to cut off Bhai Mani Singh’s wrist, he is even believed to have stopped the executioner to instruct him on the proper way to proceed, beginning with his fingers.
It is this moment of moral and physical triumph that is captured in Kirpal Singh’s43 painting of 1957, reproduced in the lower half of the cover of a booklet titled Khoon Shaheedon Ka (The Blood of the Martyrs: The History of Sikh Martyrs with 16 Illustrations) (Fig. 10 and Fig. 11).44 The booklet is published by the Sikh Missionary College, Ludhiana, Punjab,45 and is available in several Indian languages including Hindi, English and Punjabi.46
Another instance of such ‘bloody’ commitment to Sikhi is depicted in a wall calendar featuring the martyrdom of Bhai Taru Singh (Fig. 12). According to traditional accounts, Bhai Taru Singh (c. 1720–c. 1745) lived in Amritsar district in Punjab with his younger sister, Bibi Tar Kaur. Brother and sister were pious, peace-loving Sikhs who worked hard and lived on very little. Their meagre savings were spent on supporting their fellow Sikhs who had taken shelter in nearby areas to escape Mughal oppression. The same Mughal Governor of Punjab, Zakariya Khan, had explicitly prohibited anyone from helping the Sikhs, and when the news of Bhai Taru Singh and Bibi Tar Kaur defying his orders reached him, they were both arrested. The villagers, who had great respect for the siblings, bought Bibi Tar Kaur’s freedom. Bhai Taru Singh, however, refused to ask for pardon. He was tortured by the Mughals and given the option of converting to Islam by cutting off his hair (kesh), or facing violent death.47 Bhai Taru Singh refused to cut his hair off, and declared that he preferred to die with his hair intact. Zakariya Khan ordered that Bhai Taru Singh’s scalp be scraped off his head, while keeping his hair intact.
This brutal torture is vividly depicted in a painting by artist Manjit, published in the wall calendar for 2013 by the DSGMC (Fig. 12). It is based on a 1956 work by Kirpal Singh (Fig. 13). The calendar, titled We may lose our heads, but never our faith,48 exhorts the Sikhs to remember the sacrifices of Sikh martyrs and emulate them to follow the true Sikh path, just like the text at the Bhai Mati Das Museum does (Fig. 01): There was a time when Bhai Taru Singh chose to sacrifice his scalp rather than his hair. Come! Let us all take inspiration from this picture and make an effort to guide our children to emulate the Sikh faith’s true form [Sikhi saroop].49
As in the museum discussed earlier in the essay, both the booklet and the calendar use images of martyrs for clear pedagogical purpose. Khoon Shaheedon Ka is just one in the series of educational literature published by the Sikh Missionary College at Ludhiana, with the objective of encouraging ‘youngsters who have gone astray to re-establish their link with Sikhism’.50 The wall calendar is issued by the DSGMC which not only manages the functioning of the gurdwaras in the city of Delhi but, like the SGPC, also has a Dharam Prachar Committee (Committee for the Propagation of Religion) which regularly produces literature to promote Sikh history. In all three – the museum, the booklet and the calendar – the emphasis is on ensuring that the younger generation of the community should not stray from the Khalsa ideals and that they should emulate their ancestors who sacrificed their lives in defence of Sikhi. The chief vehicle for spreading this message is the male Khalsa martyr.
In these images (Figs. 10–13) and the stories they present, both Bhai Mani Singh and Bhai Taru Singh are pious Sikhs steadfast in their belief in the Sikh Gurus and their commitment to Sikhi. In both stories, the Mughals capture and execute them for unjust reasons: Bhai Mani Singh comes to know of the deception planned by the Mughals and takes a principled stand by refusing to pay the agreed sum; Bhai Taru Singh simply helps his fellow Sikhs with basic necessities like food – a laudable humanitarian concern. In both life stories, the Muslim comes across as arbitrary and cruel, because it is his very nature to be so. This ‘innate’ cruelty of the Muslim character is depicted visually as well. The figure of the executioner, while being powerfully built and often looming large over the pious Sikh, is grotesque. The former’s depraved masculinity stands in contrast to the heroic and stoic masculinity of the Sikh martyr. The executioner is dark, his beard and moustache different from that of the Sikh. The Sikh martyr is fair, almost incandescent with the inner light of faith (Fig. 11). Moreover, as Michael Nijhawan has pointed out in his discussion of Bhai Mani Singh’s martyrdom, the agency in these images is firmly on the side of the martyr.51 The martyr is ‘witness’ to injustice and provides testimony to it through actively seeking martyrdom, giving up his blood.52 His masculinity is superior both physically and morally.53
The story of Bhai Taru Singh’s martyrdom is also an interesting entry point for examining the place of women in this entire narrative. While both Bhai Taru Singh and his sister Bibi Tar Kaur were equally hardworking, pious and devoted Sikhs, it was the brother and the man who chose to undergo torture to sacrifice his life in defence of faith. As the story tells us, Bibi Tar Kaur’s release was secured by sympathetic villagers, but this was not an acceptable option for Bhai Taru Singh. I would argue that because of the centrality of the male Khalsa martyr in Sikh tradition, this course of action is not open to women. It is the male Khalsa body which embodies Sikhi.54
This is not to say that the Sikh tradition considers women to be less dedicated in their commitment to faith. It is just that they bear ‘witness’ to their faith in different ways from male Sikhs. The Sikh tradition proudly recounts the sacrifices made by women in the history of the faith, such as that of Mata Gujri, the wife of Guru Tegh Bahadur (the ninth Sikh Guru) and the mother of Guru Gobind Singh. She bore the pain of martyrdom of her husband with steadfast faith. Later, Mata Gujri and her two young grandsons – the Chhote Sahibzade (lit. the younger princes), Zorawar Singh and Fateh Singh – were captured by the Mughal army and kept in captivity in Sirhind, Punjab. While in captivity, Mata Gujri kept up the spirits of her grandchildren by narrating to them the stories of the brave Sikhs who had defended their faith at all costs. Eventually, the young boys were given the option of converting to Islam or death, by the Mughals. It was her inspiration which enabled the Chhote Sahibzadeto defy the Mughals. They bravely chose death rather than giving up Sikhi, and were bricked up alive. Mata Gujri achieved martyrdom the same day through samadhi (meditative state), while uttering the gurbani.
A popular storybook for children, Nikkiyan Jinda Vadda Saka (An Illustrated Story of the Sacrifice of the Chhote Sahibzade), published by the SGPC, illustrates this saga of martyrdom.55 The drawings are by the well-known Punjabi artist, Devender Singh.56 In Fig. 14, the Chhote Sahibzade are shown surrounded by armed and hostile men, yet they stand defiantly with raised hands (a universal symbol of revolutionary defiance). A couple of masons are shown building a wall which will enclose the young boys in a death trap. A cleric dressed in white and an official dressed in pink stand addressing the boys, giving them the option of choosing Islam over death. In another page from the same storybook (Fig. 15), Mata Gujri is depicting as having achieved samadhi while in imprisonment. She has a peaceful and contented expression on her face while the guard standing watch over her is shown looking completely baffled at her unwavering determination and fearlessness.
Here too, it is the male body (even if that of a boy child) which is offered for violent sacrifice. While Mata Gujri too achieves martyrdom, it is not in the same way as her male kin. Her bravery and dedication to faith are evident in her support to her son (after her husband’s martyrdom) and then to her grandsons. However, she is neither subject to physical torture, nor does she ‘witness’ or provide a testimony of her faith, like the male Sikhs do. As devout Sikhs, women too suffer under an unjust Muslim rule. However, they do not have the same kind of agency in choosing martyrdom, as the male Khalsa Sikhs do.
Hind di Chadar: Guru Tegh Bahadur
Fig. 16Guru Tegh Bahadur (1621–75), the ninth Guru of the Sikhs, is one of the most revered martyrs of the Sikh tradition. He was the second Sikh Guru to be martyred, after Guru Arjan Dev (1563–1606), the fifth Guru. Popular tracts on Sikh history frequently refer to Guru Tegh Bahadur’s sacrifice as ‘unique’ in the history of mankind and he is called Hind di Chadar, (Cloak of Hind), that is, the protective presence over Hind or Hindustan. A booklet freely available in Delhi gurdwaras is titled just that: Guru Tegh Bahadur: Hind di Chadar (Fig. 16). The cover shows a haloed Guru Tegh Bahadur clad in loose white robes with a yellow shawl over his shoulders. He sits with his eyes closed in calm meditation, surrounded by a red-hot raging fire – perhaps depicting the turmoil around him in contrast to the tranquillity personified by the Guru.
Popular narratives inform us that the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb (1618–1707) was forcing all Hindus to convert to Islam and that his dream was to ‘eliminate Hindu religion from India’.57 A group of Kashmiri pandits (brahmans) appealed to Guru Tegh Bahadur for help. Even though the Guru was not a Hindu, he agreed to help and protect them against this injustice. He declared that if the Emperor could convert him, all others would follow suit. Following this declaration, the Guru and a few of his followers were imprisoned in Delhi by Aurangzeb. The Sikhs were brutally tortured and killed in the Guru’s presence to intimidate him, but Tegh Bahadur remained calm and refused to give up his faith.58 In the end, he was beheaded.
Fig. 17For the Sikhs, this sacrifice is unique in the history of the world. This is because, they claim, the Guru sacrificed his life to defend the right of worship for a religion that was not his own.59 More importantly, it is argued that Guru Tegh Bahadur’s sacrifice enabled the Hindu community’s survival. As the recently-published booklet proclaims: The outrage of Aurangzeb eliminating Hindus was nipped in the bud by Guru Ji’s sacrifice. ... All sacred deeds, charities, worship, pilgrimage, etc. by the people of India are of no consequence, unless they express gratitude to Guru Tegh Bahadur for being their saviour. Indian Government on its part should declare his ‘martyrdom day’ as ‘National Holiday’.60 The illustration accompanying the text shows the calm face of the Guru up in the sky surrounded by clouds. He looks over the vast sea of humanity below which bows before him acknowledging his divine protection (Fig. 17).
Fig. 18The illustrations in this booklet published by the Guru Tegh Bahadur Educational and Charitable Trust are by the artist Devender Singh whose other works we have already encountered in this essay. These images were first made for an illustrated book for children, Guru Tegh Bahadur Ji: An Illustrated Life Account, published by the Punjab and Sind Bank (PSB) in 1975. The front cover is a portrait of Guru Tegh Bahadur, his eyes half closed and a diffused halo behind him (Fig. 18). On the back cover is a drawing of the Sis Ganj Gurdwara in Chandni Chowk, Delhi, commemorating the site of the Guru’s martyrdom. The first printrun was of 100,000 copies released in Punjabi, Hindi and English, and on popular demand, an additional 50,000 copies were printed in 1976. The same images continue to be widely reproduced to this day.
Here, it is important to note the role of PSB in the promotion of Sikh heritage in postcolonial India, especially through popular visual culture. PSB was a private bank founded in 1908 by three prominent Singh Sabha reformers,61 and subsequently nationalized by the Indian government in 1980. Since the 1970s, PSB has regularly published illustrated calendars on Sikh history. Each year until the end of the first decade of the 21st century, the bank chose a theme from Sikh history for their annual calendar and commissioned artists to illustrate that theme.62 These calendars enjoyed immense popularity and became a source of history for the Sikh community. The bank continued to commission paintings for its calendars for a period of almost three decades. Some of the artists who worked for PSB include Devender Singh, Kirpal Singh, Mehar Singh,63 Bodhraj,64 Amolak Singh65 and R.M. Singh.66 Critical events from Sikh history were represented visually for the first time in PSB’s calendars, and these images went on to create a template which continues to be followed several decades later. Hence it is not surprising to find a booklet published a few years ago reproducing the illustrations which were first made in the 1970s. Incidentally, it is PSB’s collection of paintings which form the major part of the collection at the Bhai Mati Das Museum at Sis Ganj Gurdwara.
Returning to the representation of Guru Tegh Bahadur’s martyrdom in Figs. 16–18, both the PSB book (published in 1975) and the recent booklet (c. 2011) proclaim the Guru as Hind di Chadar, the protector of the Indian nation. Here, the Sikh martyr is not defending Sikhi alone, but the whole of Hindustan. More importantly, the demand that the day of Guru Tegh Bahadur’s martyrdom be declared a ‘National Holiday’ calls for a clear recognition of his sacrifice in the annals of the nation’s history.
Sikh Masculinity and the Indian Nation
Fig. 19In fact, the last few years have seen an increasing articulation of demands for such ‘national’ recognition through visual culture. Since 2014, the DSGMC has been annually celebrating Fateh Diwas (the day of victory) at the Red Fort in Delhi to commemorate the victory of Khalsa forces led by Baghel Singh over the Mughal Emperor in Delhi in the year 1783. The DSGMC press release for the Fateh Diwas celebrations in March 2015 claimed that Baghel Singh’s conquest ‘paved the end of the mighty Mughal rule in India and beginning of war for Independence’. The DSGMC therefore demanded that the Indian government announce the ‘conquest of Lal Qila by the Sikh forces in 1783 as a national event celebrated annually’.67 The celebrations are accompanied by media promotions and enactment of plays – all of which use history paintings depicting this victory. Artist Amolak Singh’s painting depicting Baghel Singh’s conquest of Delhi is displayed in the Bhai Mati Das Museum at Sis Ganj Gurdwara (Fig. 19). It shows three Sikh chiefs (the one in the centre presumably being Baghel Singh) leading a victory procession. In the background is the Red Fort with the Nishan Sahib (Sikh flag) atop. The Khalsa soldiers (dressed mostly in blue) follow the chiefs on horseback, on camels and on foot. There are two men playing drums and other instruments in front of the procession. The painting also includes a man wearing a white Pathani suit with a green waistcoat and a matching turban – a figure clearly marked as Muslim, depicted as a willing participant in the celebratory procession. In the right-hand corner, a woman is shown standing with a little girl, telling her to greet the Sikh chiefs, and the girl does so with folded hands.
Fig. 20On 6 June 2018, a quarter-page advertisement commemorating the birth anniversary of Baba Kharak Singh (1868–1963) appeared in the English daily, The Indian Express (Fig. 20).68 It was issued by three prominent politicians active in Delhi and its gurdwara politics.69 The advertisement, in celebrating Baba Kharak Singh’s birth anniversary, chose to highlight that Mahatma Gandhi, the ‘father of the nation’ himself, had recognized the significant contribution of the Sikhs in the Indian freedom movement. It is ironic that the promoters of this advertisement chose to use Gandhi to highlight the Sikh contribution to the nation. As Veena Das has pointed out, in the Khalistan movement’s invocation of Sikh masculinity and its critique of the Hindu/Indian nation-state’s feminine weakness, it was unacceptable for the Sikhs to follow Gandhi (with his ‘feminine’, non-violent ways) as the ‘father of the nation’.70
The deployment of the male Sikh figure in relation to the Indian nation has an interesting and uneven trajectory in postcolonial India. Very soon after Independence, we see the emergence of Sikh museums and a visual culture which celebrates the Sikh past and presents the male Sikh (especially the martyr) as its most glorious manifestation. Later, independent India sees a parallel phenomenon, as noted by Deepa Sreenivas, of masculinization of the Indian nation (principally the Hindu body and the Hindu nation). The male Khalsa Sikh stands sometimes as a challenge and sometimes in support of this idea of the nation.
The challenge appears because the icon of the male Khalsa consolidates a Sikh identity distinct from a Hindu one, even perhaps in opposition to it. This is manifest politically in the fight for resources and autonomy within the nation as was seen in the decades following Independence (the struggle over Punjabi as the official language, the Punjabi Suba, disputes over river waters distribution and Chandigarh as a capital city, the Anandpur Sahib Resolution, the Khalistan demand and the like). Here the Indian nation and the central government (which is seen as representing Hindu interests) are perceived as depriving the Punjab (Sikhs) of their rightful share. The Khalsa must then be prepared to fight this injustice. This idea was most successfully deployed in the militant movement for a separate Sikh state of Khalistan, where the masculine Khalsa Sikh was pitted against the weak and feminine Hindu.71 This was done both at the level of religious communities (Sikh vs Hindu), and at the level of identification with a nation-state (masculine, glorious, pure Khalistan of the Sikhs vs effeminate, cunning, deceiving and unjust Hindu/Indian nation-state). Another aspect of this challenge was the failure of the nation to recognize the contributions of the Sikhs. Hence the demand to include Sikh sacrifices in the ‘national’ history, especially the sacrifices made by the male Sikh body.
Fig. 21At the same time, there are many ways in which the masculine Khalsa Sikh’s representation in the visual culture feeds into the right-wing idea of the ‘Hindu’ nation. This is most evident in the former’s othering of the Muslims. While positioning itself as the protector of the nation, the Sikhs fight the enemy both within and outside, i.e. the Muslims. This is also shown in Patricia Uberoi discussion of a 1966 print which simultaneously invokes Guru Gobind Singh’s struggle against the Mughals, and the Sikh soldiers in the Indian army fighting in the wars against Pakistan (Fig. 21).72 These acts are comparable to Guru Tegh Bahadur’s sacrifice (Fig. 17) which is proclaimed as one that protected the nation against the tyranny of the Muslims.
Conclusion
In Sikh visual culture, the male Khalsa emerges as the most glorious and most potent icon of Sikh history and identity, a unique combination of saintly and martial qualities – a sant-sipahi or saint-warrior. While in the first instance Nanak may seem to be in contradiction with the martial ethos of the later Gurus, for contemporary Sikhs this is not necessarily the case. For the Sikhs, the idea of martyrdom in the service of righteousness and one’s faith was espoused by Nanak himself through his poetry. Sikh tradition frequently recalls that Nanak condemned oppression by Muslim soldiers during his lifetime. The subsequent Gurus are believed to be simply building on his message. This is true of representations of Guru Tegh Bahadur too, who is shown as spiritual leader, who achieves a victory over oppression and protects humanity without lifting a single weapon.
The last Guru, Gobind Singh, represents the combination of spiritual and martial in its most glorious manifestation. The prints of martyrs too can be seen in the same vein. Each of these martyrs, as he is dismembered, scalped or beheaded, remains tranquil. And, it is the evil oppressor who shows fear, weakness and bafflement at the Sikh’s spiritual and physical strength. Contemporary Sikh visual culture has consolidated this relationship between spiritual and physical prowess in the male Khalsa Sikh, which is significant in the latter’s emergence as the most prominent icon of the Sikh community.
At the same time, Sikh visual culture betrays a deep anxiety. The museums, calendars and popular tracts incessantly exhort the younger generation to remember the sacrifices of their ancestors and to adhere to Khalsa ideals. This fear of loss of history and identity may be understood in the context of the process of nation-making in India and the relationship between the different social groups constituting it: the fight for resources and representation, the desire for autonomy and even independence, and a move for inclusion in the national narrative. The unity of identity of the Sikh panth has been a necessary tool for it to fight these political battles in independent India.
An aspect that has not been developed in this essay, but may well be complementary to it, is situating the male Khalsa Sikh in paradigms other than that of the nation-state. A male Khalsa, even when he does not fight a political or military battle for a nation, remains an extremely attractive and influential icon at the level of the individual and the community, regulating social relations, especially among genders. The complex and dramatic narratives in Sikh visual culture provide fascinating possibilities for examining this aspect of the masculine.
No comments:
Post a Comment