AS a Sikh, I am acutely aware of the importance of identity. Though there are only about 15 million Sikhs in India's 1.2 billion population — less than two per cent of Indians — they seem to have a much larger presence in India because of their distinctive appearance (beard and turban). For a lot of foreigners, their quintessential image of an Indian is a Sikh.
India's prime minister, the scholarly Dr Manmohan Singh, is of course a Sikh, as is the main implementer of our economic policy, Montek Singh Ahluwalia. The Green Revolution, which made India self-sufficient in food, was largely due to the enterprise of Punjab's Sikh farmers. Sikhs also constitute a disproportionate segment of the Indian Army when India became independent, 25 per cent of Indian military officers were Sikhs.
However, many Sikhs, probably even a majority of them, have in recent years given up their distinctive symbols by cutting their hair and discarding the turban, though they continue to regard themselves as proud Sikhs. They are jokingly called 'mechanised' or 'mona' Sikhs.
This is the inevitable process of modernisation. And I have to confess that I am one of these 'mechanised', shorn Sikhs, though I have kept my beard. My father, Khushwant Singh, a Sikh icon in his own right, remains 'orthodox', retaining his beard, turban and long hair. Despite not being at all religious — he rarely goes to a gurudwara nor says any prayers — he was upset when I decided to cut my hair and not wear a turban. He could not explain why he was upset. Identity and a sense of belonging is a strange thing for some people, difficult to rationalise.
Which brings me to the main topic of this column the beard and Islam.
A few days back, a young Muslim with a wisp of a beard was denied permission to attend a school as its rules required its students to be clean-shaven. He claimed a beard was part of his Islamic identity and took the matter right up to the highest court in the land. The Indian Supreme Court in its wisdom decided in the school's favour. If the school's policy did not permit bearded students, then no beards, said the judgment. But the judge in question went a little over the top when he went on to comment that beards and burkas promoted 'Talibanisation'. Several outraged Muslim organisations pounced on this comment and protested, saying that beards were indeed an integral part of the Islamic identity.
When the controversy erupted, I got a call from Barkha Dutt, Indian TV's best-known female personality, ever ready to be in the thick of things and famous for her news programme, We The People. Would I appear live that evening to discuss the beard issue? I agreed, though in an earlier appearance on her show, I had made some remarks that had so infuriated a couple of Sikhs in the audience that they were waiting to lynch me afterwards! As I said, identity is a funny thing....
Confronting me on Barkha Dutt's programme was an Islamic scholar. I had come prepared. Where in the Quran is it mentioned that Muslim men must have beards? I asked him. He was taken aback and replied that it was part of Sharia law and that “good Muslims” should have beards.
I then reeled off a number of Islamic countries in the world — Pakistan, Bangladesh, Egypt, Turkey, Syria, Libya, Indonesia, Malaysia, Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria. Barring Iran and Saudi Arabia, I asked, how many of the leaders of these countries had beards? None! I also pointed out that not a single Pakistan leader, not even that great proponent of religous law, the late Gen Ziaul Haq, had sported a beard. Were they all “bad Muslims”? My scholar antagonist looked uncomfortable and had no answer.
The discussion then moved on to France, probably the most secularly democratic country in the world. In a law that was inspired by the anti-clerical French Revolution of 1789, overt religious symbols are banned in government-funded schools. No Christian 'cross' necklaces, no Jewish skull caps, no Islamic scarves and, needless to say, no beards.
Some time back, this became a fierce talking point in France because of the resurgence of Islamic fundamentalism and the insistence by some Muslim organisations that girls be allowed to wear scarves. Sikhs also got caught up, even though there are only a small number of them in France. The Indian government took it up with the French authorities. They stood firm and said there would be no change in the law. If you want to wear a scarf or a turban, go to a private, not a school funded by the French taxpayer, was the message.
I, for one, applaud the French. But the issue of identity, or, rather, the importance that some people attach to outward appearance, symbols and rituals intrigues me. Insecurity and the “need to belong” is one explanation. Witness how Indians living abroad try desperately to be more 'Indian', by spending an inordinate time taking part in religious ceremonies or championing certain causes. When the Sikhs were restive in the 1980s and 1990s, the most virulent 'Khalistani' Sikhs were those residing in Canada and the UK. I am sure this is true of Pakistanis living abroad as well.
A sense of belonging, of rootedness, is important, but when taken too far, it becomes a little ridiculous, sometimes even dangerously disruptive.
The writer is a former editor of the Reader's Digest and Indian Express.
singh.84@hotmail.com
