Aparita

Toronto Star, [08/30/2003]

 

This headpiece is a marker of the Sikh identity and a symbol of a religious belief system Despite the desire to fit in, wearers must accept they will always stand out

 

APARITA BHANDARI

SPECIAL TO THE STAR

 

He calls it his “seven mirror turban check.”

“I’ll sound so vain now,” jokes Gaurav Singh as he explains his daily ritual, before he finally enters his workplace at ING Bank of Canada. “But you know how you girls have bad hair days? Well, we have bad turban days.”

Each morning Singh ties his waist-long hair into a turban as prescribed by his Sikh faith. He chooses a single four-metre-long piece of rubia, a variety of fine cotton cloth, colour co-ordinated to match his outfit, and winds it around his head to cover his hair.

“It’s got to be perfect,” says 24-year-old Singh. “A bad turban day is when it’s just not looking very proportionate. The entire day just goes off. So I check it seven times. First is obviously when you tie it. Then I check it in my mom’s room. She has one of those 3-D mirrors so that I can see the back. Then there’s a long-distance mirror check. When I walk down the stairs, there is a large mirror near the entrance of our house. That’s the natural lighting check. There’s a mirror in the hallway, which is a quick walk-by check. Then in the washroom, before leaving the house. And finally in the car, right before I enter work.”

His friend Jaswinder Singh Sehmbi, also 24, has the same ritual for his turban, which is slightly more elaborate than Singh’s.

“I tie three pieces of cloth in my turban,” says Sehmbi. “It’s mulmul (muslin) so it’s very light. I first tie a two-metre piece of mulmul into my hair. Then I tie another turban, in which you’re supposed to carry a weapon. I don’t carry a weapon. And then another turban on top of that. It takes me about 10 minutes. It’s a more martial way of tying a turban.”

Wearing a turban is an integral part of the Sikh faith, a relatively young tradition founded by Guru Nanak, the first of 10 Sikh masters, in the 15th century in response to the inherent caste system of Hinduism and the ritualism of both Hinduism and Islam. To refute the caste hierarchy, all Sikh men take the surname “Singh,” which means “lion.” The women, irrespective of their marital status use the last name “Kaur,” which means “princess,” to emphasize their prominence as well as equality to men.

But it was in the 17th century that the distinctive dress of the Sikhs was codified by their 10th master, Guru Gobind Singh. It was a time of one of the greatest religious persecutions in India. The Muslim empire of the Mughals was imposing religion alongside their rule, killing those who wouldn’t convert.
By creating the Khalsa (an order of the pure ones) to uphold universal brotherhood, Guru Gobind Singh gave the Sikhs the 5 K’s in a baptismal rite: Kes (long hair), Kangha (comb to keep the long hair neat), Kara (an iron bracelet), Kachcha (shorts) and Kirpan (sword). These outward symbols were meant to remind them of their principles.

The turban is a marker of the Sikh identity and belief system, says Sehmbi.

“We are protectors of everyone’s faith, whatever it is,” he says. “If someone needs help and sees (a Sikh), he can call us for help. We have to, as duty, protect them. That’s why we’re always armed.”

The Sikh faith emphasizes the notion of a saint-soldier, so martial training is as important as knowledge of the Sikh scriptures in order to be baptized a Sikh, Sehmbi adds.

Wearing a turban has never been an issue for either Singh or Sehmbi.

Singh started wearing one when he started university, in order to continue the family tradition more than following a religious diktat. Sehmbi has been wearing a turban since he was 12, when he was baptized.

It’s made him more confident because of the bullying he underwent during school, says Sehmbi.

“Growing in up in Canada through the ’80s, I went through a lot of racism,” he says. “You know, kids just picking on you. They’d say things like that, `What you got in there? Ants?’ I would fight back. I wasn’t going to mould myself to someone else’s liking. And I always had to come out victorious. I knew what I was doing was right.
“Wearing a turban gave me the confidence to stand up for my beliefs.”

While Singh never encountered such incidents, he does believe that his turban allows him to, quite literally, stand out.

“You wear it with a lot of pride,” says Singh. “Like when you’re born into a family of cops, everyone wants to be a cop. Similarly, when you’re born in a family of Sikhs, everyone wants to be a Sikh. It’s an issue of dignity and honour.”

Singh and Sehmbi say that the larger society has become more knowledgeable about and accepting of the Sikh faith represented by the turban over the last decade or so. However, a few recent hate crime incidents in the United States of Sikhs being mistaken for Al Qaeda supporters have rattled some in the Sikh community in North America.

It’s just a matter of lack of exposure, says Singh. “It’s really tragic but people who are racists will be racists against anyone, not just Sikhs specifically,” he says. “And most of them just don’t know enough about the Sikh faith. So whenever I meet someone like that, I try and educate them”

Even for Sikhs such as Sundeep Singh who don’t wear a turban, it was a “scary time.”

“I never had long hair,” says 23-year-old Sundeep, a graduate student at the University of Toronto. “My father cut off his hair when he came to Canada in 1972 in order to assimilate into the North American culture better. But one of my uncles has a beard, and after 9/11 my father was seriously asking him to shave it off.

“For some people there’s an issue of fitting in better. Your skin colour makes you different anyway. But a turban just makes you stand out. Many Sikh parents make that decision for their kids by cutting their children’s hair off. I have flirted with the idea of growing my hair, but I never really gave it a serious thought.”

While Sundeep appreciates that maintaining long hair is an important aspect of his faith, he doesn’t think that his short hair makes him less of a Sikh. Even Singh agrees.

“If someone cuts their hair, it’s their issue,” he says.
“I’m not here to judge. Someone could judge me because I trim my beard, which I’m not supposed to. Someone could judge Jaswinder because he doesn’t recite his prayers more. You can always point fingers.”

Nevertheless, maintaining long hair and a turban has some fringe benefits. Several threads posted on a Toronto-based South Asian Web site www.mybindi.com discuss how “turbaned Sikhs look really hot.”

Singh dismisses it as another stereotype. “It’s like saying all turbaned Sikhs are smart,” he laughs.
“I’m sure some women appreciate the whole idea of a warrior-type, principled Sikh man. But more than that I think it’s just the confidence they appreciate.

“Besides, we can really talk to girls about hair, shampoos, conditioners. We’ve tried ‘em all.”

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