Vision Punjab

Past & Present

2008-12-07T01:50:00.000-08:00

The Punjab tradition

RAMACHANDRA GUHA
The once-unified, syncretic music tradition of Punjab now lives on in the art of a practitioner who comes from the other end of the subcontinent…

I write this the morning after I attended a tabla recital by a man who must be close to being the best tabalchi of our age, Yogesh Samsi. Although I admire Samsi’s art (and craft), I remain unconvinced that his instrument can do its work without the endorsement alongside of a voice, sitar, sarod, flute, or violin. On this day Samsi played masterfully, as is his wont, but while he was eminently listenable, he could not, without those other aids and accompaniments, be memorable.
Anyway, for me, the nicest thing about Samsi’s concert was the debts he acknowledged to his teachers. The son of the well-known classical singer Dinkar Kaikini, he chose early on to depart from the family tradition and trust to his hands rather than his voice. At the age of four he started learning the tabla from Pandit H. Taranth Rao. Later, he sought the guidance of Ustad Allarakha Khan, one of the greatest tabalchis of the twentieth century. Samsi spent 23 years under the tutelage of Allarakha, a period long enough for him to have acquired almost all that the older man had learnt in many decades in the trade.

Changing trends
When their audience consisted of connoisseurs alone, musicians did not care to announce the names of the compositions they sang or played. Now, performing before a very heterogeneous crowd, of true rasikas, total musical illiterates, and those (like the present writer) who are somewhere in-between, most vocalists and instrumentalists follow the organisers’ instructions to tell the audience what exactly they are playing or singing. And most do this, albeit in a very perfunctory manner.
Samsi, however, seemed to take a real interest in the genealogy of the very many compositions he played for us. Each time, he would tell us with which Ustad it had originated. His repertoire consisted of some original riffs of Allarakha Khan, combined and enriched with others from Allarakha’s teacher Mian Kader Baksh, whom the tabla player referred to as his “Dada-Ustad” (this a not inappropriate term, and also a very charming one, since of course Samsi had never seen or met him). Still other variations came from other members of the Punjab gharana of tabalchis. Once, when attributing a composition to an unfamiliar name, he said that the artist in question had, like many others, gone to the other side after partition. As Samsi put it, “we do not know what happened to him, we know him only through his compositions”.
Some years ago, I had heard Samsi’s father, Dinkar Kaikini, sing Multani, a raga that carries the name of a city, now in Pakistan, that very few Indians will ever get to see. But Multani is only one of very many ragas that Kaikini sings, whereas his son had been centrally shaped by a tradition of tabla playing associated with the undivided Punjab. In British days, and before, these masters of music roamed from Multan to Patiala, from Srinagar to Simla, playing in the towns and cities of what is now Pakistani Kashmir, Indian Kashmir, the Pakistan Punjab, the Indian Punjab, and Himachal Pradesh. In these places they played at the invitation of various patrons, and with different vocalists and instrumentalists, to mixed crowds of Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims, and even the odd Christian.
On August 15, 1947, the day that the Punjab, and India, were divided, the veteran Unionist politician Khizr Hayat Tiwana wrote to an English friend of how he wished he “could do anything to save the unity of the Punjab... It is heartbreaking to see what is happening... We will have to start afresh [but] there is hardly any hope of building things on old lines as communal hatred and mutual destruction are now uppermost in everybody’s mind.”
The ethnic cleansing that followed the division of the Punjab was horrific. Before August 15, 1947, there were more Muslims than Sikhs in Amritsar; now, since the city was allotted to India, they were killed or forced to flee. Before that day, Lahore was as much a Hindu and Sikh city as a Muslim one; after that day, the only Sikhs permitted to stay behind were those who tended the great gurdwara outside the Lahore fort. Here and there, a few families managed to escape the carnage and the exodus. There was the odd Hindu who stayed on in the countryside of the Pakistan Punjab; while some Punjabi Muslims managed to make their home in what was now India. Among them was the Urdu poet Sahir Ludhianvi, who — with other writers and singers — found refuge in the Bombay film industry.

Splintered tradition
Even as it claimed those million (or more) lives, the partition of the Punjab dealt a body blow to a once unified, syncretic, tradition of literature and music. A small slice of that tradition, however, was preserved in the shape of Allarakha Khan. I do not know how, and what in circumstances, Allarakha came to live in India rather than in Pakistan. But in doing so, he passed on his art — and his craft — to a man who, in background and demeanour, is as far from being a Punjabi Muslim as one can imagine. Yogesh Samsi comes from the other end of the subcontinent as his master. Whereas Allarakha was (as I remember him) burly and big, with a loud laugh and long, white hair that flew spectacularly about him as he played, his disciple is small, slight, bespectacled, and soft-spoken. Yet, through a delicious accident of history, it is this Konkani-speaking Saraswat who carries on, in his mind and through his hands, the great Punjab tradition of tabla-playing.
ramguha@vsnl.com

2006-10-27T04:38:00.000-07:00

Gautam Rishi
gautam@journalist.com

Akali factions in slugfest

2006-10-27T04:18:00.000-07:00

KATHUNANGAL :
The fifth birth centenary of Baba Budhaji, first head granthi of Amritsar's Golden Temple, on Wednesday turned violent with a clash between activists of arch rivals Shiromani Akali Dal (A) chief Simranjit Singh Mann and SAD (B) leader Parkash Singh Badal.
Mann was injured after he was roughed up by the supporters of former CM and SAD (B) supremo Badal. Over eight to 10 activists of the rival parties were also injured, though none very seriously. Trouble began around 1.30 pm, when Mann and his deputy Daljit Singh Bittu led over 300 activists to the venue, but were stopped by SAD (B) activists and Shiromani Gurudwara Parbandhak Committee (SGPC) taskforce. This led to a scuffle.
Turbans flew as kirpans were pulled out and bricks and stones pelted. Gunshots were fired, but eyewitnesses claim that the police remained mute spectators. They intervened only when Mann's supporters lifted their injured leader and put him in a vehicle. Majitha SSP Gautam Cheema told that police had not fired a single shot and someone else had done so.
"Looks like shots were fired from a small firearm," he said, adding that police were examining videotapes of the event and would take suo moto action if no complaint is filed.
The police have also booked both Akali factions under sections 323, 326, 148 and 149 of IPC and 25/54 of Arms Act. Cheema said a case has been registered at Kathunangal police station.
Later Mann accused the Badal faction and chief minister Amarinder Singh of creating trouble. "They have conspired and shaken hands for they are not keen on allowing a third front to emerge in the political arena of the state," he alleged.

SAD(B) secretary general Sukhdev Singh Dhindsa and general secretary Kanwaljit Singh alleged in a statement, "What happened at the religious function at Kathunangal yesterday was clearly conceived, planned and executed under direct and live supervision by the political cell in the Chief Minister's Office in Chandigarh,"

In the other side, Some Sikh groups, who are opposed to Akali Dal chief Parkash Singh Badal, today criticised the attack on Simranjit Singh Mann and his supporters in Amritsar and said it was "pre-planned and politically motivated" to please the BJP."The attack was pre-planned. It was done to please the BJP. SAD chief Parkash Singh Badal and BJP will have to pay a price for this," Akali Dal (Delhi) president Paramjit Singh Sarna told reporters.
Delhi Sikh Gurudwara Management Committee President Harvinder Singh Sarna called it a "black day for the Sikh community" while SGPC member Harinder Pal Singh said "it was deliberately done to please the Hindu vote bank and the BJP"."If the organisers could invite BJP and Chautala on the stage, why was Mann stopped from paying obeisance at the event, organised to celebrate 500th birth anniversary of Sikh saint Baba Budda ji,"
he said adding "political interference by SAD in religious affairs should stop".The Akali Dal (Delhi) chief said Akal Takht, the temporal body of the Sikhs, should ask Badal for an explanation and punish him. Till then, there should be a social boycott of SAD President.

Kesh Katal in Punjab

2006-10-27T03:51:00.000-07:00

A common growing trend
By Chander Suta Dogra, Outlook India

A young Sikh boy gets his hair cut at the local barber in a village near Beas
One is often told that a Sikh without his flowing hair and turban is like a king without a crown. But, across Punjab, and more so in the countryside, young members of the community are giving up the most visible religious symbol of Sikh identity—long hair and the turban. The trend, which has been growing in the last four to five years, has reached "epidemic" proportions and now has the Sikh religious leadership worried. So much so that desperate campaigns have been launched to revive the use of the turban.When Outlook began examining this trend, Sikh organizations engaged in saving the turban estimated that about 80 per cent of the Sikh youth in rural Punjab have cut their hair and discarded their headgear.An exaggeration, one thought. But president of the Shiromani Gurudwara Prabandhak Committee (SGPC), the highest decision-making body for the Sikhs, Avtar Singh Makkar, confirms this trend.He told : "Yes, it's true that in many places about 80 per cent of Sikh youth have indeed cut their hair. Sadly the 'dastaar bandhi samaagam' (a turban-tying ceremony for young boys), too, has become rare in villages because very few boys of 13 or 14 years of age have long hair."
Does this mean that the day is not far when a Sikh village in Punjab won't have a single turbaned male to show? This is not just in the realm of possibility but an inescapable reality according to a dismayed and rather helpless Sikh leadership.But why are Sikhs, otherwise very dedicated to their religion, saying goodbye to turbans and going in for haircuts? Scholars say it is a combination of various factors, both social and economic, at play. The most common reason cited is the convenience of not having to go through the elaborate rigmarole of maintaining a beard and tying a turban. Says Baldev Singh, the patriarch of a large family in Adliwal near Amritsar, "Except I and my two brothers, all our sons and grandsons have shorn their hair.It does pain me to see my family like this but no one listens to us nowadays." His daughter-in-law Roominder Kaur is quite happy with a clean-shaven son as she doesn't have to go through the tedium of combing and tying his hair each morning.
Everyone agrees that the turban problem is acute in the villages where the land-owning Jat peasantry resides. One reason, perhaps, is the rural Punjabi youth's overriding desire to go West. Sikh scholars feel that in the aftermath of 9/11, when Sikhs are being mistaken for Muslims and attacked for sporting a beard and turban, there is a tendency among members of the community to adopt a more assimilative appearance so that they "look like others". It becomes easier to get past immigration
It is common knowledge that drug abuse and liquor consumption in Punjab has reached unprecedented levels. Sixty per cent of the youth in the 14-25 year age group are estimated to be drug users. Sikh intellectuals link this with the trend to shed turbans. This is because Sikhism prohibits smoking and use of intoxicants. Points out the Akal Takht jathedar, Joginder Singh Vedanti: "Smoking or taking drugs with a turban on one's head makes a Sikh feel more guilty of breaching his faith. The absence of his kesh (long hair) and turban frees him from such qualms."The politicization of the Sikh clergy, which is not doing enough to spread religious awareness in the younger generation, is another oft-cited reason. It is alleged that in recent years the Sikh clergy has become a handmaiden of the Akali Dal and has neglected its role as protector and preserver of Sikh religious traditions. Notes Dr Kharag Singh of the Chandigarh-based Institute of Sikh Studies: "The Sikh religious symbols like 'kesh' represent certain values. If a person holds these dear to himself, then he will never shed them, but unfortunately there is no one nowadays to teach the youth all this. "
Ironically, the trend of clean-shaven Sikhs has picked up in Punjab at a time when the community is engaged in an international campaign to create awareness about the Sikh identity and the importance of wearing religious symbols like the turban and kirpan. Following the ban on wearing turbans in French schools in 2004, and also several cases of hate crimes against Sikhs after 9/11, Sikh organisations began a drive to create awareness about the Sikh faith in Europe, US and Australia.When the French ban was announced, Sikh organisations—political, social and religious—in India and abroad protested. On the urging of the SGPC, PM Manmohan Singh, too, took up the issue with the French government. But as Jaswinder Singh, an SGPC member and president of the Akal Purakh Ki Fauj (an organisation engaged in popularising turbans and long hair in Punjab), points out, "If the French government comes to know of the situation in Punjab now, it will be embarrassing for us. How can we fight for the right to wear long hair and turbans abroad when people are abandoning the same in the home of Sikhism?" Is a Sikh without his 'kesh' or long hair a lesser Sikh? In popular parlance, a clean-shaven Sikh is a 'patit' or an apostate. Says Professor Sher Singh of the Institute of Sikh Studies, "Of all the five Ks—'kesh, kada, kirpan, kangha and kachh'—which Guru Gobind Singh had made mandatory for all Sikhs to wear, the 'kesh' comes first and is foremost and indispensable to a Sikh's identity. Without the 'kesh', the other symbols are meaningless." In recent years, several organisations have sprung up in Punjab to revive the tradition of keeping long hair and wearing turbans. The 'Kesh Sambhal Prachaar Sanstha' is one such outfit which, among other things, runs two turban-tying schools in Jalandhar and Amritsar, where young Sikhs are taught how to tie a turban. Says the Sanstha secretary, Sukhdev Singh Sandhawalia, "The most common excuse boys give for cutting their hair is that they don't know how to tie a turban." Another organisation holds a popular competition to select 'Mr Singh International' which is open only for turbaned Sikhs. Among other things, the contestants have to participate in a round called 'Meri Dastaar, Meri Shaan, Meri Pehchaan' (My turban, my pride, my identity) where they are judged on how well their turbans are tied. The latest champion of the turban and long hair in Punjab is former cricketer and the BJP's Lok Sabha MP from Amritsar, Navjot Singh Sidhu, who held a procession in Amritsar to revive the use of turbans and instil a sense of pride in Punjabi youth in wearing one. Ironically, Sidhu is under flak for trimming his beard and allowing his son to cut his hair.
Why and how did things come to such a pass? Many feel the custodians of the Sikh heritage like the SGPC cannot escape criticism. Says G.S. Lamba, Sikh scholar and editor of Sant Sipahi, a popular Sikh community journal: "The SGPC has abandoned its traditional role of preserving Sikh values and heritage and is more embroiled in politics. When the Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD) abdicated its role as a religious party and adopted a secular garb, the SGPC should have taken its religious duties seriously, But unfortunately it's the other way around. The SGPC has become an organ of the SAD, and has neglected preaching in villages. It's also shameful that the two are projecting a 'patit' like Navjot Singh Sidhu as a role model for the Sikh youth for the coming elections." He points to the recent controversy over Harbhajan Singh appearing in an advertisement with his hair open as an example. "This shows the SGPC's double standards. They are picking on Harbhajan Singh just to get some good publicity with the Sikh masses. If they are serious about the issue, they should start by taking action against the families of the SGPC members who have shorn hair and also the clean-shaven cadres of the SAD."Though Harbhajan Singh apologized to the Sikh clergy for the offending representation in the advertisement, his comment on the matter is telling. "I apologize if I have hurt the feelings of my people, but why should the SGPC compare me with Monty Panesar (English cricketer of Sikh origin who sports a turban and beard) and not Yuvraj Singh and singer Gurdas Mann both of whom have cut their hair?" Clearly, the situation has gone beyond hair-splitting as rural Punjab's tryst with the barber keeps growing. The land-owning Jat Sikhs have all but shed the turban, whereas the more conservative trading 'Khatri Sikhs' in urban areas are less inclined towards the new trend. One reason is that most of the Sikh gurus were 'Khatris' or from the trading community which is why this section of Sikhs are more staunch believers. But go to rural Punjab and there are some tell-tale indicators of change. Where earlier, the sole barber in a village had to supplement his income by selling sweetmeats, now; most villages have three to four barbers. The feisty land-owning Punjabi Jat farmer has always been known for his enterprise and desire to try new things. True to form, it is he who is leading the 'no turban' trend even though it makes him an apostate in the eyes of his religion