Indiana Smaagam Trip...

In the second week October, Bhai Baljit Singh invited me the annual Indiana Akhand Kirtani Jatha Smaagam took place at Gurdwara Sri Guru Hargobind Sahib in Greenwood. The flight going there was 13 hours but as it was a transfer flight, and due to delays it was considerably longer.

At Birmingham Airport, when going through the security screening, the security officer stopped to compliment the Khanda on my Dastaar. Then when I was on boarding the plane, so many people walked pass and smiled at me. In particular, an elderly white man stopped whilst finding his seat and said, "You look so nice. What does that this badge mean?" I thought this is an ideal opportunity that I can use the Khanda emblem to explain the key concepts of Sikhi in a few minutes. I explained referring to the double-edged sword (Khanda) in the middle, "this represents that as a Sikh I am dedicated to service of the one God." Then reffering to the circle (Chakar), "this represents that the Eternal God, pervades in humanity and in the world." Then referring to the two swords (Siri Sahibs) on the edges, "one sword represents a Sikh's commitment to spiritually perfecting themselves with meditation, and the second sword represents a Sikh's commitment to serve and protect humanity." Within one or two minutes of hearing this, the man said, "that is enough for me to know. That's wonderful, and just looks beautiful."

I thought how amazing it is just to put on a Khanda. I know sometimes people say "I am not worthy of wearing a Khanda" or "I don't want to stand out." But we have to ask ourselves that are we worthy to have taken Amrit, worthy enough to wear a Kirpan gifted by Guru Ji, and the list goes on. The answer is that we are never worthy, but have these things are blessings that continually remind us to step forward and step up to the mark.

Anyway, arriving at New York airport to catch my connection flight, I was again given so much respect by the security staff. When you think of America you probably think of Mr Trump, racism and red necks. However, the people were so friendly. I had so many Americans go past and nod at me to acknowledge me and give respect. People looked and smiled and even one guy did a salute looking at me. This is the power of wearing Bana (Khalsa uniform). Wearing a Dastaar with a Khanda, a hazooriaa (white scarf) around the neck, and chola, truly is a dignifying and graceful appearance graced to us by Guru Sahib, which resonates holiness.

I was surprised to see the building of the Gurdwara Sahib in Greenwood. In the middle of nowhere Sikhs have settled, with a sizeable population and built a beautiful Gurdwara Sahib. The Sangat were very welcoming and full of pyaar. On Saturday, a bus came all the way from Toronto to bring Sanga to the Smaagam. There were young children and elderly people, one whom was walking with a walking stick, who had travelled 9 hours on the bus from Canada to attend the Smaagam and support the local Sangat of Indiana. That is what you call dedication and inspiration! We sometimes become too lazy to travel 1 hour or 30 minutes to attend Sangat, and these Gursikhs travelled 9 hours! Toronto has lots of programmes and Keertans, so why travel 9 hours? It comes down to the commitment to spread the fragrance of Guru Nanak Dev Ji's Sikhi far and wide, and share the gems of Gurbani and Gurmat with those that don't have opportunity. Otherwise we could all sit at home and keep ourselves to ourselves.

Sangat had also come from Ohio, Chicago, Montreal and Califronia. Sometimes we take Sangat for granted, and don't realise that in some places of the world Smaagams are the one of the rare chances they get to experience Sangat of Gurmukhs. Like with any other Smaagam, it was great to meet so many Chardikala Gurmukhs, enjoy the blissful Keertan, and experience the pyaar of the worldwide Khalsa family.

Some photos from the Smaagam:

Saturday morning Aasa Ki Vaar keertan which began at Amrit-Vela and finished at 1pm

Afternoon activities at some Smaagams in sleeping, or for others football or Gatka; but in Indiana it is shooting!

Bhagatjot Singh from New Jersey with two sets of ear protection (which was still not enough to block the loud noise) trying to avoid harming himself with friendly fire.

Rainsbaaee Keertan on Saturday evening

Gursikhs from Chicago and Ohio

 Gursikh sisters at Smaagam

Group photo with Gurmukhs from Toronto and USA Sangat

This Veer Ji is Sunny. He is from a Hindu background and decided to keep his Kesh and wishes to take Amrit. He tries and attends all the North America Keertan Smaagams. 

This young Bhenji is 15 years old and observing Sarbloh Rehat. At such a young age, she has lots of Banis memorized and wakes up Amritvela, whilst undertaking her studies at school. Bhenji did Langar seva.

With Gursikh family

Dhan Hai Guru, Dhan Hai Teree Sikhee!

A Story of Love for Guru Ji... (Part 2)

Continued...

The Story of a White-American falling in love with Sikhi...
(Part 2 of 2)

Now at the age of 38, I had been involved in a happy and monogamous relationship with a very open and also spiritual woman. She had come from a different country and had a difficult upbringing herself. Raised a Catholic like my parents, she too knew that God was so near, yet ideologically too far to reach. We spent a great deal of time traveling throughout the country, admiring God glorious landscapes. We become a strong and mutually inspiring couple.

Though a series of events, we had been illegally evicted from our apartment in New York City. During this time, a friend of ours had opened her door to us. This friend allowed us to occupy her apartment for nearly 3 weeks while we fixed our situation. This friend also had a very spiritual nature about her. Her apartment was adorned with many religious articles of many different faiths.

One item that caught my particular attention was a picture depciting a Sikh Guru hanging upon her wall. Knowing nothing about Sikhi at the time, I simply gazed at the picture, and began to see myself. My beard had gotten quite long, and although it had been a trendy thing in recent times to grow a beard, I was not growing it to find popularity. In fact many people seemed to dislike my untrimmed beard and would occasionally make nasty comments. This spiritual leader that I saw upon my friends wall gave me a certain hope and a clue that I was following the right path. We also happened to discover a CD recording of Gurmantar and Simran. I was mostly intrguiged by the image of an Amritdhari child on the cover. We began listening to this Naam Simran CD everyday. Although I didn't understand the word to the accompanying Mool Mantar, the thought of learning to recite the words gave me a great sense of excitement and bliss. Not surprisingly, the words were accompanied by the familiar sound of the tabla!

What began slowly, turned to a rushing toward the study of Sikhi. The friend gave us the CD when we reurned back to our apartment after solving the rent issue.

We have both been immersed in simran ever since. The kesh (hair) have continued to flow. The Kara (iron bangle) on my right arm is a tireless employee working day and night to clam my anger and encourage me to think before acting with emotion. I prefer to wear a patka (bandana style head covering) over my kesh, but I know that eventually I will accept the cloth of dastaar (turban) with great enthusiasm.

With all these exciting discoveries and revelations, how could anything possibly bring me down?!

The battle continues in a different form. Many people in my home country do not understand Sikhi. Many people are beaten and abused because of ignorance and hatred. 

I have seen many stories of Sikh brothers having their beards cut off, and being beaten or killed because ignorant people have associated them with terrorists. As I walk in the land in which I was born, with an untrimmed beard, head covering, and gutka (Sikh prayer book) in hand, I am being subjected to similar abusive behaviors. Most people just don't know how to deal with me in their minds. Here is me with light skin and light eyes looking like my Guru. Some people may make nasty comments, and some people may smile. Some people may spit, and some people may look away. It is all Vaheguru, and this may be the only thing I knows for sure.

Vaheguru Vaheguru Vaheguru.
Ghar Sukh Vaseyaa, Baahar Sukh Paaeyaa.

Although my transition towards Sikhi has been a true blessing in my life, I have had to make some changes in my career path as well. Most food establishments in my industry frown upon long beards. I have since left food service to seek alternative employment. I  have done some part time truck driving, and currently working part time in a canine boarding kennel. I am steadily looking for a Sikh owned or operated company within New York City that may offer employment.

My situation is unique in that I am sometimes perceived as being stuck between two cultures. Both Americans and Punjabi citizens are either struck with awe when their eyes connect; sometimes a smile, and sometimes an offensive comment. Some may say that I have abandoned my culture for another. When presented with that idea, I must confirm what is "my culture". I am 7 generations into the United States. I have no connection to my supposed homelands. My culture is only that of "American" culture, which from my perspective consists mostly of the freedom to indulge in the many evil vices available such as drinking, smoking, gambling, even prostitution. I find these so-called freedoms to go against everything that I am trying to achieve in this life. The only thing I can support in my country seems to be the freedom to religious expression; something that meant nothing to me as a youth, but has become important to me in recent times. I have only been immersed in the study of Sikhi for six months, but it has already taken my consciousness further than I had ever thought was possible. I would like to state that I am not trying to "be Punjabi". I am not stealing another culture. Sikhi is for every human. I discovered deep love for the teaching of Guru Nanak Dev Ji at even the most cursory glance, and the love continues to blossom while deepening my studies.

The next step in my quest is to find my sangat. I plan to visit the Gurdwara in New York City soon, although I maintain some apprehension because a lot of what I've read about the strife amongst the Punjabi Sikh community. I am studying Gurmukhi script from children's workbooks that I obtained online. I rise for Amritvela, and read Japji Sahib and Jaap Sahib each day from my transliterated gutka. I am seeking my sangat, and friends in Sikh community. I am looking to do seva (selfless service), any seva, but langar work in particular. I would like to find Gurmukhi classes that are free or affordable. My lady friend would also like to join in seva and study.

We praise Dhan Dhan Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji every day in the privacy of our home, but would very much like to join with community for kirtan, simran, etc.

This story has been complied by with the Guru's grace and utmost humility.

Vaheguru Ji Ka Khalsa, Vaheguru Ji Ki Fateh!

NOTE:

If any Gursikh reading this is local to New York, and is happy to assist Veer Ji and his friend in linking up to the Gurdwara Sahib and local Sangat, then please write to them at ddmills72@gmail.com.

A Story of Love for Guru Ji... (Part 1)

Thank you to Veer Dee Dee Mills for emailing me his story to share with the Sangat. Hopefully, it will give inspiration to other newcomers to Sikhi, and remind us all of Guru Ji's love.

The Story of a White-American falling in love with Sikhi...
(Part 1 of 2)

My story begins with me being born near the banks of the Mississippi River in the United States of America. My father had left before I was born and the first three years of my life were spent in a modest accommodation with my mother. During my third year, my mother married the man whom I came to call my father. They have been married ever since. Both parents were brought up in Catholic households, and as a result, neither had any affiliation to religion whatsoever. My family consists of a mixture of Germanic, Irish, and Ukrainian genealogy. From a young age, my mother told and encouraged me to seek and study religion on my own when I was old enough.

My family practiced the typical and confusing traditions of their own background, i.e. Christmas and Easter. Although the baby Christ was never spoken of, they would spend the solstice weeks decorating a fir tree, and eventually exchange gifts on the supposed birthday of Christ of whom they had no knowledge of. As a boy I was utterly confused by this, and my confusion grew more intense with age. The following year we observed Easter, which was nothing more than a candy hunt with a giant rabbit presiding over the games. This was supposed to have something to do with the Christ figure as well, but even the adults knew the connection was obsurd. It was best to just leave it alone and indulge in the sugary treats.

As I grew into adolescence, my relationship to God remained untapped. I was certain that God was phoney (made-up), and religion was for fools. Having no source of spiritual support, as a young man I fell into drug and alcohol abuse. I was content with getting high. It was the closest thing I knew to experiencing another world. But alas, as many others before me had discovered, this high, like so many things in this world, was also temporary and even became painfull. As a young man I battled with what is called depression and anxiety. I always had the support of my mother, but her capacity to guide me was never her strongest point. She herself was slowly falling into the realm of self gratification through cigarettes and gambling. Although I loved her very much, I knew she could not solve my issues.

I immersed myself in music, particularly playing guitar and keyboard. I also grew very fond of eastern Indian music. I loved the long raags of sitar and tabla (drums). I would go to the public library and sift through the international CDs looking for appealing sounds. The fact that I didn't understand the language being sung was of no consequence. The singers voice simply became another instrument being played. In fact, I began to prefer foreign language song because my brain didn't have to contemplate the words. It allowed me to sink further into the music itself, without being interupted by thought cognition. My love for indian music grew, and I bought a tabla set of my own at an Indian bazaar. My tabla playing was rudimentary, having no lessons, but I was so very fond of my tabla. Sometimes I would just sit and stare at them and enjoy their beauty.

One day, at the age of 22, after spending my youth as a devout atheist, I found myself sitting under a tree in a city park. Peering through the branches and leaves of this tree, while taking in the bits of sky blue, I suddenly came to understand that there was more to my composition than mere flesh and blood. It was as if the idea of God came rushing to me from above and I sat up in stark realization. Thus, my search for God had begun.

I spent then next 10 years dabbling in spiritual studies with a passive demeanor. I found the study of Theosophy to be most intriguing. I was still gripped by the influences of alcohol, sex, and other extreme indulgences. God had become an interest, but not yet a hobby. I spent my twenties working in restaurant kitchens learning how to cook and eventually became a chef. I loved my line of work and it took me to many great places, including the largest metropolitan city in my country.

It was in New York City that I continued my pursuit of food knowledge and cooking technique. Now in my thirties I had begun to leave the dangerous vices of alcohol and tobacco behind me. Along the way I met a devoutly Jewish woman, and we kindled a romantic relationship. Although she was very beautiful, I was mostly drawn to her spirituality... she had introduced me to what is known as Shabbat. As we continued our relationship, I joined her congregation of orthodox Jewish observers. I took on an all kosher diet and began learning about and meditating upon the many names of God in the Jewish Kabbalah faith. After two years of observance, I decided to join the congregation on a pilgrimage Israel to visit and pray at many holy site and at the graves of Jewish sages, and I even took ritual bath at the Mikveh of the holy site of Ari.

Entrance to the Mikveh of Ari

My journey did not end there. I left the congregation in Israel and visited a friend in Kiev, Ukraine. The object was to drive to a graveyard in far western Ukraine to pray at the grave site of the Baal Shem Tov. After spending time in Ukraine, I travelled back to New York. Within a couple months, my relationship with the woman had dwindled, and my connection to the congregation had nearly vanished. I felt that even after all I had done with this group, something was not right. I had felt the surge of Light that comes from Kabbalistic meditation and wanted to chase that feeling. The Jewish community had too many rules and regulations as to how and when to commune with the Divine. I knew something was not right.

I had decided in Israel that I would stop trimming my hair and beard. As I left my old congregation behind, I looked forward to the possibilities of finding the truth. I felt it was so close. As my hair became longer, I decided I needed a special comb. I wasn't sure exactly what kind of comb, but I would know it when I saw it... My relationship with knives had always been a strong one having spent my life as a chef. Little did I know that I was soon to discover a deeper truth about myself, and that my connection to my blades and my comb were the catalysts to open the door to Sikhi.

To be continued...