Breakfast at McDonald's

This is a good story and is true, please read it all the way through until the end! (After the story, there are some very interesting facts!):

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree.

The last class I had to take was Sociology.

The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with.

Her last project of the term was called "Smile."

The class was asked to go! out and smile at three people and document their reactions.

I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway, so, I thought this would be a piece of cake, literally.

Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning.

It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son.

We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did.

I did not move an inch... an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved.

As I turned around I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell, and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men.

As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was "smiling".

His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance.

He said, "Good day" as he counted the few coins he had been clutching.

The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation.

I held my tears as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.

He said, "Coffee is all Miss" because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm).

Then I really felt it - the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes.

That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action.

I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray.

I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman's cold hand.

He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you."

I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope."

I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you to me, Honey, to give me hope."

We held hands for a moment and at that time, we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given were we able to give.

We are not church goers, but we are believers.

That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love.

I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand.

I turned in "my project" and the instructor read it.

Then she looked ! up at me and said, "Can I share this?"

I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class.

She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings and being part of God share this need to heal people and to be healed.

In my own way I had touched the people at McDonald's, my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student.

I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn: UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE.

Much love and compassion is sent to each and every person who may read this and learn how to
LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS - NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE.


Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.

To handle yourself, use your head.

To handle others, use your heart.

God Gives every bird it's food, but He does not throw it into its nest.

So many people including so called sikhs do refer to the phrase "falling in love".
I can't really imagine how can somebody fall in love with somebody living on earth and if they feel any sort of attraction can label it as Love.
love is not such a small thing . it is a state wherein the lover forgets who is he/she himself is. he/she cannot resist the feeling to meet his beloved. As in Guru Granth Sahib
ਮੈ ਬਉਰੀ ਮੇਰਾ ਰਾਮੁ ਭਤਾਰੁ ॥ (i have become mad without lord and lord is my only releiver . he is my husband.)
ਰਚਿ ਰਚਿ ਤਾ ਕਉ ਕਰਉ ਸਿੰਗਾਰੁ ॥੧॥ ( Ang 1164, GGS)
( i decorate and adorn myself for him).

Now is there anybody in this world that can match this feeling.
So why have belief in love marriage. I know everybody says they love their family.freinds,etc. but that is just an attraction. They r just a part of ur life cycle.
ur aim does not end on them.
Everybody has a choice, either make ur family and freinds as classmates to reach with them to the final destination of God or just forget urself with them and spoil their lives too .
i do not say that u don't care about them . Taking care is a responsibility u have towards ur family but do not attach so closely to them so as to forget the real path.
NEVER PRACTICE RENEUNCIATION. IT IS THE ART OF THE WEAK AND THE FOOLS. SIKHS REMIAN IN GRAHISTH BUT STILL TRY TO ACHIEVE THE REAL PATH.

I have created a new Facebook group regarding the caste system subject that was discussed in the thread entitled, A Faith Ahead of its Time; The Hypocrisy of Sikhism,and would like to thank all of you for showing your support.
If there are any moderators / admin that can possibly send mass emails or pm's to all the people on here, that would be awesome.

This groups focus: We stand here as a new generation plagued by old institutions that've proven failure. The caste system has no place in our era of egalitarianism where anyone can take the pursuit of happiness without encountering injustice. So, let's break the barrier.
Breaking the Caste Barrier

Self proclaimed "Sant Baba" Daljit Singh Chicagowala is once again in the news for all the wrong reasons. If you remember, this pakhandi sadh was caught in a motel with a woman. He went on talk shows and said he was at his dera. Said he would put his hand on the Guru Granth Sahib and swear it. Then the police reports came out and it was proven that he was in fact caught with a woman in a motel, although he is married. He was let off with a slap on the wrists because he paid off the Jathedars. He is now in the news for human smuggling. He swindled 16 lakhs from someone in india and wouldn't return it when he couldn't bring them to the U.S. He has done this to many people I assume. Click the link for breaking news on the matter. http://www.jagbani.i...&boxid=28284134

The Joy of Less

by PICO IYER
"The beat of my heart has grown deeper, more active, and yet more peaceful, and it is as if I were all the time storing up inner riches...My [life] is one long sequence of inner miracles."


The young Dutchwoman Etty Hillesum wrote that in a Nazi transit camp in 1943, on her way to her death at Auschwitz two months later.


Towards the end of his life, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, "All I have seen teaches me to trust the creator for all I have not seen," though by then, he had already lost his father when he was 7, his first wife when she was 20 and his first son, aged 5.


In Japan, the late 18th-century poet Issa is celebrated for his delighted, almost child-like celebrations of the natural world. Issa saw four children die in infancy, his wife die in childbirth, and his own body partially paralyzed.


I'm not sure I knew the details of all these lives when I was 29, but I did begin to guess that happiness lies less in our circumstances than in what we make of them, in every sense.


"There is nothing either good or bad," I had heard in high school, from Hamlet, "but thinking makes it so."


I had been lucky enough at that point to stumble into the life I might have dreamed of as a boy: a great job writing on world affairs for Time magazine, an apartment (officially at least) on Park Avenue, enough time and money to take vacations in Burma, Morocco, El Salvador.


But every time I went to one of those places, I noticed that the people I met there, mired in difficulty and often warfare, seemed to have more energy and even optimism than the friends I'd grown up with in privileged, peaceful Santa Barbara, California, many of whom were on their fourth marriages and seeing a therapist every day.


Though I knew that poverty certainly didn't buy happiness, I wasn't convinced that money did either.


So - as post-1960s cliché decreed - I left my comfortable job and life to live for a year in a temple on the backstreets of Kyoto.
My high-minded year lasted all of a week, by which time I'd noticed that the contemplation of the moon and composition of haiku I'd imagined from afar was really more a matter of cleaning, sweeping and then cleaning some more.


But today, more than 21 years later, I still live in the vicinity of Kyoto, in a two-room apartment that makes my old monastic cell look almost luxurious by comparison. I have no bicycle, no car, no television I can understand, no media - and the days seem to stretch into eternities, and I can't think of a single thing I lack.


I'm no Buddhist monk, and I can't say I'm in love with renunciation in itself, or traveling an hour or more to print out an article I've written, or missing out on the N.B.A. Finals.


But at some point, I decided that, for me at least, happiness arose out of all I didn't want or need, not all I did. And it seemed quite useful to take a clear, hard look at what really led to peace of mind or absorption (the closest I've come to understanding happiness).


Not having a car gives me volumes not to think or worry about, and makes walks around the neighbourhood a daily adventure. Lacking a cell phone and high-speed Internet, I have time to play ping-pong every evening, to write long letters to old friends and to go shopping for my sweetheart (or to track down old baubles for two kids who are now out in the world).


When the phone does ring - once a week - I'm thrilled, as I never was when the phone rang in my overcrowded office in Rockefeller Center. And when I return to the United States every three months or so and pick up a newspaper, I find I haven't missed much at all.


While I've been rereading P.G. Wodehouse, or Walden, the crazily accelerating roller-coaster of the 24/7 news cycle has propelled people up and down and down and up, and then left them pretty much where they started.


"I call that man rich," Henry James's Ralph Touchett observes in Portrait of a Lady, "who can satisfy the requirements of his imagination." Living in the future tense never did that for me.


I certainly wouldn't recommend my life to most people - and my heart goes out to those who have recently been condemned to a simplicity they never needed or wanted.


But I'm not sure how much outward details or accomplishments ever really make us happy deep down. The millionaires I know seem desperate to become multimillionaires, and spend more time with their lawyers and their bankers than with their friends (whose motivations they are no longer sure of).


And I remember how, in the corporate world, I always knew there was some higher position I could attain, which meant that, like Zeno's arrow, I was guaranteed never to arrive and always to remain dissatisfied.
Being self-employed will always make for a precarious life; these days, it is more uncertain than ever, especially since my tools of choice, written words, are coming to seem like accessories to images.


Like almost everyone I know, I've lost much of my savings in the past few months.


I even went through a dress-rehearsal for our enforced austerity when my family home in Santa Barbara burned to the ground some years ago, leaving me with nothing but the toothbrush I bought from an all-night supermarket that night.


And yet my two-room apartment in nowhere Japan seems more abundant than the big house that burned down. I have time to read the new John le Carre, while nibbling at sweet tangerines in the sun. When a Sigur Ros album comes out, it fills my days and nights, resplendent. And then it seems that happiness, like peace or passion, comes most freely when it isn't pursued.


If you're the kind of person who prefers freedom to security, who feels more comfortable in a small room than a large one and who finds that happiness comes from matching your wants to your needs, then running to stand still isn't where your joy lies.

In New York, a part of me was always somewhere else, thinking of what a simple life in Japan might be like. Now I'm there, I find that I almost never think of Rockefeller Center or Park Avenue at all.


Pico Iyer's most recent book, The Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama, is just out in paperback.
[Courtesy: The New York Times]

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

Daya - Compassion: One is Made of Many

by T. BYRAM KARASU


The historian Joseph Campbell says, "Compassion for me is just what the word says; it is 'suffering with.' It is an immediate participation in the suffering of another to such a degree that you forget yourself and your own safety and spontaneously do what is necessary."

This definition reflects a sympathetic and empathic reaching out to others.
Therefore, compassion is the strongest of all communal glues, adhered with the knowledge that our suffering (as well as our joy) is intimately linked to those same feelings in others; it brings us together.

As one wise rabbi reflected, when it is very cold, there are two ways to warm yourself. One is by putting on a fur coat, the other is by lighting a fire. What is the difference? The difference is that the fur coat warms only the person wearing it, while the fire warms anyone who comes close.

If one's actions are in the service of the self, they bring plain satisfactions, and make one competent at whatever work one does. But if they are in the service of others, they bring a deeper exaltation.

Our civilization's egocentric, competitive notions of inspired actions make us miss their societal service. (Inspiration means simply "inbreathing of spirit," not "exaltation of the spirited.")

Some cultures require their members to seek inspiration for the sake of society.

Examples include Native American sweat lodges, peyote sessions, and dances, or Quaker meetings, whose members gather together to attend the appearance of the indwelling spirit.

Integral to these rituals is the social philosophy that you can best serve yourself when you are in service of others.

Actually, compassion is a reciprocative generosity, although it may seem to benefit only the immediate receiver. It may begin there, but it doesn't end there.

Robert Fulghum tells the story of Menon. When he arrived in Delhi to seek a job in government, all his possessions, including his money and ID card, were stolen at the railroad station. He was totally bereft and would have to return home on foot, penniless.

In desperation, however, he went to see an elderly Sikh for help. He explained his troubles and humbly asked for a loan of fifteen rupees to tide him over until he could get a job.

Without any hesitation, the Sikh gave him the money.

When Menon asked for his address so that he could repay the person to whom he was now indebted, the Sikh replied that Menon owed the debt not to him, but to any stranger who came to Menon in need.

The Sikh explained that help came from a stranger and was to be repaid to a stranger.

T. Byram Karasu, MD is Silverman Professor of Psychiatry at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, and the author of The Art of Serenity.
[Courtesy: Psychology Today]

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

A Day in the Life of a Granthi
by MERVYN DYKES


There is a house of worship in Palmerston North (New Zealand) that never closes and for its caretakers - "granthis" - their long day begins at night.
Long before dawn, the granthi starts his spiritual duties at the gurdwara (as a Sikh church is known) on Amesbury Street, Palmerston North. There is much to do before the first of the worshippers are received and most of it involves the 1430-paged holy scripture, the Guru Granth, which is ceremonially installed at dawn and closed at dusk as The Living Word.
For Giani Sarindar Singh and Giani Manjeet Singh, the days can be long because the gurdwara never closes.

Flying outside is a yellow triangular flag of the Sikh nation, signifying that the gurdwara is a house of God that will receive anyone, Sikh or non-Sikh, who is devout, seeking God's peace, or in need of assistance.
It could be a traveller looking for shelter, or perhaps someone in need of food from the free kitchen.

"It [the gurdwara] is open to anyone who needs a place," says Sarindar Singh.

He hails from Penang in Malaysia and, like other granthis, is married with a family to open him up to life's experiences and to help him better understand the roles, duties and obligations of members of the sangat (congregation).

His path to becoming a granthi began with a university education. He then worked at a university for 16 years and at one point he served as an HIV counsellor. Once he had decided that his way ahead meant doing what he could to help others, he completed two years of study to become a granthi.
He has since served in the United Kingdom, Canada, the United States of America, Australia, Korea, Thailand, Brunei, Indonesia, Singapore, Japan, India, and now, New Zealand.

A large part of his work in Malaysia was with youth, organising religious games and sports. Many of the young people no longer understood their mother tongue's religious form (which has its origin five centuries ago), and had therefore become disconnected from their religion, he says.
Often held during holidays, the games attracted as many as 2000 youngsters in Malaysia, and 500 in Bangkok, Thailand.

Hundreds more young Sikhs attended camps in Perth, Australia, where again it became evident that in a predominantly English-speaking country they had not been taught Punjabi and had become disconnected from what was being taught at the gurdwara, says Sarindar Singh.

Now in some areas, such as Indonesia and Thailand, more of the instruction is being given in English than Punjabi.

The biggest day of worship in Palmerston North is Sunday, says Sarinder Singh. Anywhere from 40 to 150 people could attend and there are signs that the Sikh community is growing. Attempts are now being made to provide additional worship opportunities for people whose jobs make Sunday attendance difficult.

For the granthi, the work does not stop with the congregation, but also reaches out into the wider community in the hope of establishing greater harmony in society. As with Christian religions, Sikhs believe that God is love and that love is essential for harmonious relationships.


"It is like a tree," he says. "The root is God and the religions are its branches, but if there is no root, there is no tree."

Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Jews and Sikhs are all welcome at the gurdwara, provided they come in the name of God's love and are prepared to respect differences.

"It is good to have religious understanding rather than 'religious' wars."
Sarindar Singh's title of granthi comes from Guru Granth (granth, literally, means the book or the Holy Scripture; hence granthi means one who attends the Guru Granth ).

In the most basic sense, he or she deals with a variety of aspects of the Guru Granth: its parkaash (installation every morning at dawn), semaapti (closure at dusk), and paatth (its reading, rendering, interpretation and teaching), to the congregation. He is in attendance to the Guru Granth at all times through hymns, prayers and simran (meditation).

As a granthi, he leads the congregation in prayer, performs kirtan (musical rendition of hymns from the Scripture), the kathaa (discourse), ardaas (congregational prayer), and is expected to inspire and provide spiritual direction and upliftment to the congregation.

He performs all the Sikh ceremonies, from birth and baptism to death.
He provides spiritual counselling to individuals and families and acts as a teacher and role model.

Much of his time is spent teaching children, young adults and adults about kirtan (spiritual music), tabla and harmonium (musical instruments), Gurbani (verses from the Scripture), the Punjabi language and the accompanying Gurmukhi script.

Perhaps the most important educational qualification relates to classical music with a specialization in vocals, raags (musical scores) and tabla taals (musical rhythms). This is because the Sikh Scripture is entirely written in poetry, complete with recommended musical scores and rhythms.
Besides strong vocal skills, the granthi must have expertise in such musical instruments as the harmonium, mandolin, rebab, sitar, and tanpura (a four-stringed lute).

When Sarindar Singh bows to the holy book, he is not worshipping it, but honouring the Word of God it contains. And his presence and that of the gurdwara is considered a blessing by the congregation.

THE GURU'S SIKHS ARE STUDENTS OF TRUTH
Five hundred years ago, the followers of the founder of Sikhism, Guru Nanak, were called "Sikhs", which literally means "students of truth". He taught them to bow only before God and to link themselves to the Shabad Guru, or the Light of Truth embodied in the faith's Scripture.

The aims of a Sikh are:

To train the mind and all the senses to recognise the Divine Light within oneself and within all of creation; and

To be of service to others.

Sikhs believe we received a human body so we could experience the Divine Light in ourselves and in everything around us. This is said to generate bliss, compassion, fearlessness and love, and to provide a way to face life honestly, with courage and grace.

These are considered the foundations of a world filled with peace, prosperity and integrity.

EDITOR'S NOTE: A man or a woman can be a granthi. A granthi is not to be equated with a "priest" - any form of priesthood is strictly prohibited in Sikhism. A granthi serves as an elder and a caretaker, but enjoys no special status or privileges above that of any other observant Sikh.

[This is an edited version of the article which first appeared in The Manawatu Standard]

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

Converts to Sikhi: The Challenges They Face
by AMRIT KAUR


I want to make a few things clear before I begin - Sikhism never proselytizes and never ever imposes conversion. If someone becomes a Sikh, it must be entirely by his/her own free will and desire for Sikhi. Thus, "convert" is not the most appropriate term to use. But I am using it because it is common terminology. Secondly, not all "converts" are "white." Thus, when I mention "Sikh converts," I am referring instead to ALL Sikhs who were not Sikhs "by birth" - which includes Sikhs of all colours and backgrounds, who may have "bumped into" and chose Sikhism along their life journey.


In the beginning, I knew very little about Sikhism and had to learn bits and pieces along the way. I faced many challenges, all very common among "Sikh converts" in general, and also very common among Sikh youth who have not been raised in a Gursikh Punjabi-speaking family.


I must admit that I have been particularly lucky with regards to help from the sangat (congregation), but I know of others like me who have not been as fortunate ... and have left Sikhism before they had a chance to truly understand the soul of it, because of a lack of community spirit and a lack of resources and help.


I'm bringing up these challenges here so that the Sikh Community may be more consciously aware of them, and realize that addressing these issues isn't only seva (Selfless Service), but a responsibility that must be taken seriously. It directly affects the Now of the Sikh Panth. And it will continue to affect the future of the Sikh Panth, as Sikhs continue to immigrate to other parts of the world, as people of various backgrounds spike an interest in Sikhi (as the 3HO community, for example, grows, allowing more people to find Sikhism through Kundalini Yoga), and as the Punjabi youth who live in the West struggle to define and refine and merge their identities in both worlds.


I hope this discussion will be taken seriously, and inspire some thought, leadership and perhaps some tangible solutions ...


An overview of the various challenges

RESOURCES
Lack of Easily Available Resources
It can be very hard (and frustrating) to search for more information regarding Sikhism. Taking a trip to the local bookstore, or even big chain stores like Chapters and Indigo, most often you will not find even one book on Sikhism. If you are lucky, there is one book from the "Teach Yourself" series. Yes, maybe one book among seven huge bookcases full of other books on religions that intriguingly include other remote religions smaller in size, compared to Sikhism.


And for those who are thinking, "Well, they just have to search online," they are being elitist - not everyone has the internet, and even if they do, many still prefer to read something tangible and concrete on paper written by an actual scholarly "author." Let's just say that with regards to books and other information (not just online forums), one's got to be really interested, and really determined.


I understand that books that include Gurbani and Gurmukhi, are not to be put in the hands of "anyone," and not to be put on random, messy, dusty shelves or be handled by people who don't cover their head and wash their hands. It's a tricky situation ... but the solution is simple - there should at least be some quality books on Sikhism that don't have Gurmukhi in them, which could be distributed.

Gurdwaras should also give out these resources (freely or for a small fee). I know that a lot of them do give out some form of small Introduction to Sikhism booklet to visitors already, but not all. It would be great if they'd give them out to the general public during Nagar Kirtans, too ... instead of having people stare and watch and wonder who all these turbaned people are - it would be the ideal time to give out information and resources and spark up some awareness about Sikhs and the Sikh Faith - not just parade around spiking more questions than answers in curious onlookers.

Lack of Quality Resources
Okay, so resources are hard to find. And when you finally find them, they aren't necessarily of good quality. It seems like "everyone" is writing books and translations these days. Truly, I understand the desire to do seva - and it's well appreciated - but at the same time, it's getting confusing having a billion versions and not knowing which one to "trust" - so, if you want this seva to be done, why not pool resources and get a true Gursikh Scholar or even a team of them to do this high quality detailed work instead?

I won't name anyone, but some books I've read have been "almost" a waste of time - and even misinforming and misguiding about Sikhism. Thank God, I've been blessed with an educated sangat, or I would be very confused and perhaps not on the path anymore, because of too many questions and doubts and conflicting information (Hint - I know people who have left because they got too confused.)

And Other Materials of Importance
Not only are books and those kind of resources hard to find ... but so are the Big Ks (Kanga, Kacchera, Kirpan, Kara) ... and turban material or any other kind of desired Bana - Sikh uniform items.

I am proud to say that the first thing I ever sewed in my whole life was a gatra (the sling-type cross-belt that holds the kirpan). I learned all on my own, because I only had one gatra that was given to me at my Amrit Sanchar, and I had to wash it once in a while and realized I needed a second one to alternate - but I didn't have an Uncle or Auntie to ask where the Sikh store was, or how to make it - so I figured it out by carefully examining the one I had.


I still haven't figured out the kacchera though; I get all confused with it - and have been asking left and right for any Auntie to give me a pattern ... but alas, they don't wear kaccheras.


And my first turban was actually a sarong (shh!). Sikh Converts can get pretty crafty and creative when the need arises. But coming up with your own solutions doesn't always work - I had two tiny kangas given to me, and despite all the care and carefulness, a few teeth still broke and I needed a new one. Sadly, I am not very good at the art of carving wood.

I know that the sangat can be very helpful this way, and the help is very appreciated (thank you to those brothers and sisters who've helped me so-o-o-o much in the very beginning ... I've never forgotten you). But Sikh converts might not always be very verbal or able to ask for what they need ... or feel comfortable accepting these seva-gifts. Would be nice if these items could be easily found at gurdwaras or something. (Not everyone lives in Toronto or New Mexico, if that's what you're thinking! Ha-ha-ha).


EDUCATION
Lack of Sikhi-Specific Education
As a newcomer "Sikh," I have always been thirsty, so-o-o thirsty to learn as much as I can about Sikhism and the Sikh way of life. I would love to learn kirtan, santhyaa, Gurmukhi and Punjabi, gatka ... and so on. But where I live, classes and teachers are just not available, and classes aren't given at the local gurdwara(s). It's too bad. :-( Not just for me and other newcomers, but also for the Punjabi Sikh youth who are losing their connection with their own roots.

It might be worth hiring some teachers, no? [I say hire, because I know some would do it voluntarily, but then their personal affairs get all strained and they need to live, too - so instead of becoming drivers or real estate agents or factory workers - they could use their precious knowledge and skills to help the community... but alas, they can't cause they have bills to pay like everyone else... and then the community suffers without teachers there to teach... get what I'm saying? A community that does not cherish and take care of their education and the teachers that provide it, is a doomed community indeed... ]

LANGUAGE AND CULTURE
The Language Barrier
This is the obvious one. Nowadays, many gurdwaras are using projectors with English translations - that helps a lot (especially when the next slide comes on time and not too fast) - thank you, it's really appreciated.
Sadly, it's not like that everywhere. My first visit to a gurdwara was very hard linguistically, because no one there spoke a word of English, and no one was there to guide me or explain anything to me about what was going on and what I had to do or could and couldn't do, and so on. (Actually I got scolded in Punjabi by some man because I was wearing "jarabaan"! - what?)

One of the first things Sikhs would tell me was "Learn Punjabi." It's not as easy as it sounds. Especially without a teacher, and without comprehensive learning materials (Oh, and don't forget to tell them they have to go all the way to Toronto, if they want those materials.) It's also hard to swallow that you have to learn a whole new language (on your own!) just to enjoy and dive deeper into understanding your new-found faith.
But of course, I wouldn't mind it - if materials were more easily available, and teachers (perhaps available at gurdwaras for group lessons) could teach me, guide me and correct my many errors.

Let's also not forget that Sikhs are now all over the globe, and converts are from all nationalities and languages. It would be nice, if Guru Granth Sahib and Gurbani (in pothis - smaller volumes) could be translated and described in as many other languages as possible - for the sake of studying and understanding Sikh concepts. This would also be an aid in learning Gurmukhi. Even Punjabi Sikhs need a translation into Punjabi as they don't all know Gurmukhi - so why not in other languages, too?

Sikhism is a Universal Concept that should have its place all over the map - not to create converts, but to create understanding and break the chains of injustice and unfair treatment of Sikhs. It's not totally the perpetrators' fault - we also, as Sikhs, have the responsibility to educate others (as Guru Nanak did when he travelled for years and years all over the place and spoke in the native languages of the people who lived there).

Oh! And a funny little note: I have seen this often, but when you write something in English, don't assume people know Sikh terminology already! For example:


"Sikhism is a religion from Northern India, which follows a lineage of 10 Gurus, that preaches seva, sangat and naam simran. Sikhs wear 5k's, and wake up in the amritvela, and read nitnem and go to the Gurdwara, and believe in Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji."


Do I have to explain? Pause. Okay, I will - I didn't know these words five years ago : Guru, seva, sangat, simran, naam, 5K, amritvela, nitnem, Gurdwara, Guru Granth Sahib. So explaining what Sikhism is, using these words, just doesn't make any sense to a newcomer. It's actually a turn-off!

Cultural Barriers and Cultural Assimilation
There are two things that are of importance here:

1 I am unable to count the amount of times people have gotten confused on this one. Generally, people mix up Hindus with Sikhs, and Sikhs with Muslims - it's well-known. That is a tragedy in and of itself, but the tragedy really begins when new Sikh converts, who are thirsty to abide by all rules, start getting into cultural things and mixing up the Sikh way of life with Punjabi culture (especially modern Punjabi, as opposed to authentic traditional Punjabi culture).

There seems to be a lack of a clear distinction sometimes. Take note that I am not in any shape or form "putting down" Punjabi culture, but rather I am pointing out that it is crucial for the understanding of Sikhism that a distinction be made between the two. For example: I have met some Sikh converts who have become crazy for salvar kameez, and mehndi, and bindis, and bangles of all colours and all the jewelery and bhangra music, and so on.


Frankly, I have no idea how this has to do with religion, but it happens. Perhaps a bit of education on this would be worth the try.

2 When a person first enters into Sikhism, or even first encounters it - it can be very hard to delve into the topic of Sikh Concepts and understanding, without getting overwhelmed by the cultural differences of East and West, and all the minor but expected cultural things you are supposed to understand, especially on your way to a gurdwara.


Simple but small things, like covering one's head as a sign of respect, as opposed to uncovering one's head in the west, taking off one's shoes, sitting on the floor as opposed to in chairs, being vegetarian and then all the Punjabi food that comes along with it in gurdwaras (you begin to think that Sikhism is based on Punjabi food - ha-ha! just kidding), the whole man-woman division in the middle of the darbar hall.


The coming and going of people as they please without fixed times in the darbar, and the free tearing around of children, are also some of the things a westerner first doesn't understand. It's good to be aware of these small but important cultural differences and perhaps address them as they are when they come up (with simplicity and universal understanding). It could make the "new person" more at ease and less overwhelmed, confused or uncomfortable.

PREJUDICE, STEREOTYPING AND LACK OF AWARENESS
Prejudice and Lack of Awareness
This actually has to do with two major things:


a. Lack of education in the greater communities Sikhs live in, which leads to prejudice and stereotyping; and


b. Family and societal pressures to conform to the norms of the dominating culture.


We, as Sikhs, just have to educate others and this problem will fade away. Wear a smile and become true Khalsas - with the spirit of seva for everyone, regardless of religion or background - and the community will begin to earn its true reputation, as in the times of our Gurus. Don't become afraid or hide away from others - show yourself and your kindness, don't be afraid to share info about Sikhism, and become a flag of good-will for all.


Don't fight among yourselves, and don't fight with others - instead, befriend them and they will come to understand you. Right? And if the surrounding culture can learn to appreciate Sikhs, then so will the families of those who are Punjabi, but not practicing Sikhs, and the families of "Sikh converts"; then the pressure will be off and it will be easier for everyone.
So, let's show the world what being Sikh really means!

Stereotyping of Sikh Converts within the Sikh Community
We like to think that we are all angels, but we almost all do it, don't we. Punjabis are well known for being great story-tellers and for assuming things about people and then blowing their ideas out of proportion in what I call "langar gossip." Oh wait, did I just stereotype?

When this happens to a newcomer, for example: a white, "gori" girl coming to gurdwara - what's the first few things passing through the Punjabi mind? "She's 3HO, she must be into yoga..." and "I wonder if she got corrupted by a Punjabi guy to come here?" and "Oh, she's a westerner, probably all unholy - what is she doing here!"


Stereotyping can happen unconsciously, and sometimes the prejudices are true, sometimes completely false, and it is not up to YOU to judge or think up what the case is. Okay?


It does happen that Western people get interested in Sikhism without a yoga background, and without an intercultural relationship happening, and they happen to be very genuine and pure people like you are. So, please just be fair and open-minded. If you ask them questions, don't jump to your own conclusions about who they are and what they do ... or they'll get frustrated and won't come back!

Here's a personal anecdote about stereotyping with a funnily good outcome: I started getting into Kundalini Yoga because most people at the gurdwara already assumed I was a yogi and that I was familiar with 3HO and Yogi Bhajan - openly asking me questions about it, even though I had no clue what they were asking about. I began to get curious, and so I got into yoga (which I now enjoy very much, so thanks to all those who've unknowingly gotten me into it!). See the stereotype self-fulfilling prophecy? Wonderful. Moving on ...

COMMUNITY SUPPORT AND UNITY
Too Many Divisions in the Community
It gets confusing. At first I had no clue about the various "denominations" in Sikhism - just thought it was all One Religion as Guru Nanak meant when he said "Na koi hindu, na koi mussalman"; we are all but children of the same God.


So, I thought Sikhism would be very much a religion of unity and understanding, tolerance and acceptance. But when I heard that "such and such a group thinks X" and "such and such a group thinks Y" and that they're fighting among themselves about it, I seriously got all confused about Sikhism and what path I had to follow as a Sikh. I just wanted to be a plain and simple "Sikh" - no denomination strings attached - but it's not easy staying simple, when even gurdwaras start being about denominations, and Sikhs discriminating against other Sikhs.

And, please don't try to corrupt the newcomer into your own way of thinking or denomination. Give them resources, try to answer their questions with a neutral mind, and let them decide for themselves what they believe and what path they want to follow within Sikhism, if any at all. Most of the time they came into Sikhism for the love of it, not to be involved in the politics. They dream of a United Sikh Community where we uplift and nurture each other together as One Sikh Panth, but get disillusioned when they hear all the unneccessary junk going on.

Lack of Community


That being said, many Sikh Converts have often mentioned to me that they feel a lack of community, they feel isolated and alone - missing community spirit and support. And that, given all the challenges they have to face already as a New Sikh, it just makes it a lot harder to stay strong and committed to one's Sikh way of life.


They often can't turn to their family or their former friends for help and understanding, because these people often are the ones pushing the newcomer to leave Sikhism, and come back to "normal." Community is so-o-o crucial, not just for new Sikhs, but for Sikh youth, too, who may not be getting much support from their family and their friends who aren't Gursikh.


So please keep this in mind - inside and outside of the gurdwara, stay connected, and watch over each other... support one another... feel the brother- and sister-hood truly with your heart ... and cherish this rare jewel called sangat, and welcome people in it as your own breath and blood ... and let it grow and flourish. Share the love!


I know this article has been long, and perhaps unpleasant at times - but all these things needed to be said. I hope that whatever I have said does not get misunderstood or wrongly taken - as it comes from a space of true desire to help the community, old and new, and for the love of Sikhi.
We have such a beautiful religion, and so much to offer. I hope that those who come to our door may recognize that and with their thirsty, cupped hands, be filled and fulfilled ...

God bless.

[EDITOR: A Caveat - Not all Sikhs who appear to be "new'"are converts, merely because they belong to a non-Punjabi ethnicity. Many of them are now second and third generation Sikhs.]

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

The Crowning of Harjaap Singh
by T. SHER SINGH

Behold thee, turban-adorned!
Beautiful and sweet spoken!

[Namdev, Guru Granth:727]


　
The human male, from time immemorial, has been subjected to a whole variety of rites of passage as he morphs from child to adult, boyhood to manhood.

Some societies have required him to prove himself by surviving extreme feats of physical and mental endurance - such as the warrior communities. Others have subjected him to a period of extreme privation and deprivation, such as the life of a novice monk.

Sikhism too has its rite of passage ... prescribed for all of its adherents, as each aspires to its ideal: that of the Saint-Soldier.

But its principal rite differs from others in that it requires no external feats. What it requires is passage into maturity through an internal awareness of one's role in society as a Sikh, and a deep-seated, personal commitment to it.

The ceremony itself is called "Dastaar Sajaani" ... The Crowning.

The dastaar is known by many names ... puggri, saafa, and, of course, the turban.

The Sikh turban too is different from all of those worn by other communities, currently or in the past.


It is distinguished by its careful neatness. It is not a mere head-covering or hat, part of a dress, costume or uniform. It is not just a tradition or only an article of faith. It is all of these, and much, much more.

It harks back to the crown worn by kings and queens.

There were two main implications to the wearing of a crown.

First, the wearer - King or Queen - was, upon being crowned, answerable to no man or woman, only to God.

Secondly, the crowned head signified the wearer's life-long and primary duty to protect and serve his/her subjects.

The Sikh turban imposes the very same two ramifications on its wearer: he or she is answerable, in spiritual matters, to no man or woman, only to God, the Lord of all; and that it is his or her duty to protect the weak, serve the poor, tend to the needy ... all, in preference to his/her own needs.

That is, the Sikh is to always work for "sarbat da bhalla" - the good of all humanity!

It is this role that the young Sikh accepts as he dons the turban for the first time, and thenceforth gradually takes on the duties and responsibilities of life within society.

This, coupled, with a life of prayer - not removed from it - is the way of the Sikh.

And all of it is captured symbolically in the simple act of donning a turban.
There is more.

Not unlike the American way, but in fact much more so, each Sikh revels in standing out in a crowd. Not to inflate the ego, but to stand tall and confident. You can spot a turban-wearing Sikh instantly even if he is one amidst a thousand others.

As I have said, the Sikh standout-edness is not meant to be an egocentric exercise. He/she is required, by definition, to be nyaara - unique, special, excelling, standing-out, out-standing! And yet, steeped in humility throughout.

So that he/she remembers - and is constantly reminded by others - of his civic role. So that he/she can never shirk or hide from it - even when it becomes unfashionable or dangerous to be identified as a Sikh.
There is no room for cowardice for a Sikh.

He is a Sardar, she a Sardarni ... a leader! These are the honorifics traditionally used for every Sikh male or female, instead of ‘Mr' or ‘Mrs'.

He is a Singh, a lion; she a Kaur, a princess.

Every Sikh is sava lakh ... that is, equivalent to the proverbial 125,000. An army of one!

Every Sikh is to be gentle and sweet as a sparrow, but ever ready to take on hawks and overcome them.

And so, on and on go the multiple gifts and blessings that come with the turban crown.

It is the initiation into this phase of life, symbolized by the first adorning of the head with a turban - to be worn forever thereafter - that we celebrate by joining the young man and his family in the beautiful ceremony called "Dastaar Sajaani".

The color of the turban has no special significance. No color is auspicious.

No color is taboo. (My daughter quips: "Just make sure it matches with your tie ... and underwear!")


The turban consists of a long piece of cloth - fine, light cotton - approximately 18 feet long. Once learnt how to tie it, it takes no more than a minute or two to do.


HARJAAP SINGH


In a couple of weeks, my nephew, Harjaap, will go through this regal rite of passage into manhood.


The first adornment will be with the help of a parent or another respected Elder from the community.


The ceremony will take place in the presence of the Sikh Scripture - known as the Guru Granth Sahib - which is treated like a living person, in the tradition of The Living Word. Hence, all the accoutrements of royalty around it: the throne, the attendant, the 'fly whisk', the canopy above. And the fact that we all sit on the carpet facing it, cross-legged or with our feet not pointing towards it, in respectful silence and deference. Earlier, we will have left our shoes outside, and entered with our heads covered.


All of these being the decorum and protocol traditionally followed in a royal court. Why? Because we are in the court of our Guru ... our Spiritual Guide and Teacher.


All Sikh ceremonies are basic, simple and straight-forward, with virtually the same service, regardless of the occasion: readings and singing from the scripture. Little else. This is true for congregations that gather in joy or in sorrow, to celebrate or to commemorate ... or to merely start or end a normal day.


On Harjaap's big day, there will also be readings from the Guru Granth. Some singing of hymns. Some words spoken to explain to the young man his new role and responsibilities. Blessings from his parents and elders. A congregational prayer, to bless him on his path ahead.


Followed by a sacrament called "karah parshad" - a simple pudding made of flour, butter and sugar. And langar - the communal meal in which all present, Sikh and non-Sikh, will partake: a community is at its best when it breaks bread together.


It will indeed be a very special day in the life of Sardar Harjaap Singh.
　
[The above piece has been composed to explain "Dastaar Sajaani" to Sikh and non-Sikh alike.]
September 15, 2009

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

Manhattan's Young Turban Professionals


by SAMUEL G. FREEDMAN

Mandeep Singh was having dinner with a friend in Queens (New York, U.S.A.) several years ago when the subject turned to their common religion, Sikhism.


Mandeep had grown up in India unquestioningly embracing the faith of his parents. As a college student in Delhi, India, he attended a gurdwara with a congregation well into the hundreds and a paid staff of a dozen, leaving him feeling devout yet somehow peripheral.


By this time, working as a technology consultant in New York, Mandeep had a different sensation, not exactly unsettled but acutely curious. So when his friend mentioned that a local Sikh association had a page on Facebook, not exactly the place Mandeep was expecting to find religious direction, he eagerly clicked to it.


The information there, posted by the Manhattan Sikh Association, included one particular phrase that piqued Mandeep's interest: "youth gurdwara." It led him, on a Thursday night in late 2007, to the rented multipurpose room of a luxury condominium building in Battery Park City.


There, in a setting usually deployed for residents' meetings and children's birthday parties, white cloths covered the carpet and white sheeting obscured the mirrors. At the far end of the room sat the throne - palki - that held the Sikh scripture, the Guru Granth.


What most caught Mandeep's eye, though, were the other members of the congregation, or sangat. They were, like him, young professionals, the BlackBerry crowd, and as the worship service, or divan, proceeded over the next several hours, these amateur clerics took turns leading the reading of sacred poetry and the singing of devotional hymns.


Ever since that first visit, Mandeep has been a regular participant in the Manhattan Sikh Association's divan, which is held the third Thursday of each month. In so doing, he forms one part of the Sikh version of what religion scholars call the emergent movement, a growing trend toward small, nimble, bottom-up, laity-led congregations that especially attract young adults.


In evangelical Christian circles, the movement includes the scores of microcongregations of the Journey. The Jewish version, known as minyanim, or prayer groups, turns up in Brooklyn's Altshul and Washington's Tikkun Leil Shabbat, among other places.


And for about 300 of the estimated 500,000 Sikhs in the United States, the divan in Battery Park City is not your chacha's - in Punjabi, your uncle's - gurdwara.


"The one thing you feel here is a lot of young blood," Maneep Singh, now 28 and working as a contracts analyst for Bloomberg LLP, said after last Thursday's divan. "Since everyone is your age, you can ask the naïve questions, and by asking, you can learn the underlying principles. It encourages you, because it is being done by your peers."


Amit Singh Guleria offered a similar view. At the age of 26, commuting into Manhattan daily from central New Jersey, working long hours as a construction engineer, Amit had sought a religious experience that fit both his generation and his lifestyle.


"When you're living the life of someone in your 20s, it gives you a different energy," Amit said. "When you go to a traditional gurdwara, you feel more like an observer than a participant. Here, the onus is on us. And that's a responsibility we want to have."


The route to such responsibility began in a Greenwich Village apartment in early 2007. The apartment belonged to Pritpal Singh Kochhar, who headed a foundation for Sikh culture and also led international trips for the Sierra Club.


The population of Sikhs in the United States was steadily rising, but a spiritual leader of the American community, Harbhajan Singh Yogi, had died in 2004. Pritpal believed that it was vital for Sikhs to continue building new congregations in the manner he had.


Using e-mail, social networking and old-fashioned word-of-mouth, Pritpal put together the initial 15 members of the Manhattan Sikh Association. In October 2007, it held the first divan in Battery Park City, drawing about 50 people.


"We were wondering, Who are these people? Where are they coming from?" recalled Ms Simi Singh, 43, a product manager at JPMorgan Chase.
The answer to Simi's rhetorical question is that they were coming, and still are coming, from the ranks of the young, well-educated and upwardly mobile. The divan includes doctors, lawyers, bankers, engineers, computer consultants, graduate students and at least one chef. Perhaps half are the American-born children of immigrants, half are immigrants themselves, and either way they have a foot apiece in tradition and dynamism.


For while news media coverage of Sikhs in the United States has tended to focus on controversy - bias crimes against Sikh men, who are mistaken for Muslims because of their turbans, or civil rights suits by Sikhs to allow men to wear turbans and keep beards in various workplaces - the more prevalent, day-in-day-out experience is of finessing the balance between accomplishment and assimilation.


The monthly divan deftly navigates between heritage and modernity. When worshippers enter with bare feet and covered head, when they bow before the scripture, they are fulfilling centuries-old obligations. The service follows the time-honoured sequence of readings, hymns, a discourse called katha, the distribution of the sweet sacramental food - karah parshad - and finally the sharing of a communal meal known as langar.


But the words of the liturgy are projected from a laptop, both translated into English and transliterated phonetically for the many members who cannot read Gurmukhi, the script of the Sikh religious texts. One set of projections carries the logo, "Sikhi to the Max."


The worship leaders, while literate in Gurmukhi and fluent in spoken Punjabi, are not professionals trained in one of India's Sikh religious colleges. A shifting array of volunteers play the tabla and harmonium and sing the hymns, tasks given over in more institutional gurdwaras to specialists or paid professionals.



And while a typical divan in a conventional gurdwara might last four or five hours, this one held to its announced itinerary, finishing in two.
Its effect was no less for the punctuality. "You get peace of mind here," said Mandeep Singh. "Even after a day of work, you get the meditative effect."
　
[Courtesy: The New York Times]

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

Nusrat's Heir: Dya Singh


By Manpreet Kaur Singh

He was born in Malaysia, completed his professional education in the UK, lives in Australia and sings Indian music. And that's only the smaller 'fusion' story of Dya Singh's life. The real fusion story, which has now become his legacy, is his music. With the spirit of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan to reach a wider audience and a mellow voice that reminds you of Jagjit Singh, he mostly sings devotional music in traditional raga format, complete with translations in English. Sounds impossible, but its true, and the admirers Dya Singh has won worldwide bear testimony to his uniquely blended style.



"I'm not very religious", he says, "but I'm a strong advocate of spirituality. I want my audience to be touched, even if they don't understand a word of what I'm singing. I want to touch their soul, specially the younger people." A typical Dya Singh concert will have shabads, bhajans, ghazals, sufi qawwalis and old Hindi songs. And typically each of the renditions is accompanied by a full translation in English for those who don't follow the language. Dya says," I regard music as a vehicle to spread the message and the best medium to use is English. So although I sing Gurbani, I explain the essence in English and try to connect with the audience". Which probably explains why he also has his fair share of detractors. He has been accused of singing Kirtan at unconventional places, to atypical audiences, without much regard to the accepted norms of singing and listening to Kirtan.




But it's obviously an attractive package for youth and the non-Sikh community at large, if his concerts are any yardstick to go by. Most recently Dya Singh's group performed to packed audiences on the sidelights of the Commonwealth Games in Melbourne. Every show was applauded, many people touched. According to him, the best moment of the whole event was when he received a phone call from the Chief Minister of Delhi, Mrs. Shiela Dixit who was in Melbourne to accept the Commonwealth Games Federation flag as the host of the next Games. "Hearing that this regal lady is my fan, who I had greatly admired as the only lady on stage among all the officials during the Closing Ceremony of the Melbourne Games, was my crowning glory indeed", says Dya.

His accompanying musicians come from all parts of the globe and so do the musical instruments. As his Irish bouzouki player, Keith Preston says," our tag line is, we take Sikh music to the world and bring world music to the Sikhs". Therefore, you have traditional Indian instruments like harmonium, santoor, tabla and dilruba going hand in hand with bouzouki, guitar, bohdran (Irish war drum), violin, flute and the didgeridoo, an aboriginal Australian wind instrument. In fact, the first ever album they recorded was called Australian Sikh rhythm and soul and the genre was "mystical music".

Dya believes in giving each of his musicians a free flow, so every now and then, a raga might be followed by a typical rhythms and blues piece on the guitar. He doesn't seem to set any parameters for his accompanists, which makes the music more exciting and unexpected. "I don't want them to blindly imitate Indian music. They imbibe the spirit of our music and cross-pollinate it with their own creativity".

Says Keith, who also plays the santoor and the bohdran apart from the bouzouki, "Dya's music is not like Bhangra music or other commercial music. You can't manufacture this music or create a formula to copy it. Frankly I don't think any other musician has Dya's ability to collaborate so effectively with other musicians and to communicate so freely with a non-Indian audience".

But fusion wasn't always the mantra for Dya. As a child, he remembers accompanying his father Harchand Singh, singing shabad kirtan in Malaysia. "My father had learnt kirtan from sadhus in India before he went on to learn the ragas, so his style was very folksy. That was my first musical influence". As he grew, Dya remembers imitating all the famous singers like Mohammed Rafi, Manna Dey and Kishore Kumar, often featuring on the local radio stations at eleven or twelve years of age, singing the latest Hindi songs back then. "Growing up in Malaysia was wonderful for me because I was open to all influences. In any case my father never restrained my creativity and always encouraged me to imbibe various musical styles".

But equally, his father never encouraged him to become a professional singer or ragi, so soon he found himself in the UK, completing a degree to become a chartered accountant. Thereafter, he migrated to Australia and ran a thriving practice for many years. But then, something happened that made him give up his practice forever and devote his life to music instead. "After the events of 1984, I just wanted to do something for my community. I wanted to show the world that Sikhs are non-violent, that we are not terrorists. I knew I had the gift of the voice and decided to use it."

So in 1992, Dya Singh's group formally came together to embark on a musical journey, from which they have never looked back since. "Had I continued as a chartered accountant, I might have made my millions, but I wouldn't have had the satisfaction that I feel so deeply today. That, to me, is invaluable". Seeing him make that statement at his simple yet elegant home in Melbourne, one doesn't have much trouble in believing that he really does mean it.

Dya's group has traveled to many countries in the world and performed at venues ranging from humble homes to mandirs, gurudwaras, halls and even iconic venues like Royal Albert Hall. They have performed in the US, Canada, UK, Germany, Kenya, Tanzania, Malaysia, Singapore, Japan and of course Australia. Regular performers at Adelaide's famous world music festival Womadelaide -- where Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was a frequent performer too-- they were named World Music group twice in Adelaide and awarded "Vocalist of the Year" at World Music Awards in Sydney in 2000. The subject of many documentary movies, he has been featured on Australian television a number of times.

But it hasn't always been accolades and bouquets for Dya and his group. The accusations and brickbats have also followed them around. Purists think he is too radical, even heretical, performing shabad kirtan on open stages, alongside other music. "I have got into a fair amount of hot water for my singing. Some people love us, some hate us and some have even banned us", he admits. So does that bother him? "It used to, before", says Dya, "but not anymore. At first I felt, that it would be the end of me. But slowly I realized that I had a different objective. There are thousands of ragis out there to sing in the gurudwaras but I sing for the mainstream. Also, how are we to reach those who do not go to gurdwaras? Well I sing 'Gursangeet' for those who don't".

Even Keith Preston says," Dya is probably more accepted by the white community in Australia than the Sikhs. But I think he has done more to bridge the gap between Sikhs and non-Sikhs around the world, much more than any other singer even aspires to. Dya is no saint, he's just an ordinary guy but he is unique. Even if you don't agree with his form of music, you must give him credit for what he has achieved".

Even Dya doesn't make any false pretences about his role as a singer. "I'm not a Ragi or a 'kirtani', I just follow the aspiration of my soul. My target audience is in the mainstream, especially among the youth of the world. I don't want to convert anyone but am conscious of the universal truth as revealed by Guru Nanak. I believe if the youngsters of today connect with their own spirituality, they would appreciate life more and have a better value system".

So what's next? "Well, I've never consciously set any milestones or goals for myself. My main desire was to produce one CD and now I have 16. Everything else is now a bonus." But he is looking forward to performing in India, something he has deliberately avoided up to now, in search for the right occasion. Right now, he is working on a CD called "The Other Side", which is purely based on ghazals and sufi kalaams. But his ultimate satisfaction comes from the fact that he is "leaving a strong legacy of music behind". Dya says, "I have presented a different, more palatable music for the younger generation. After I'm gone, at least one of my daughters will pick up the threads and give purpose and direction to this form of music".

So while some people credit him with starting a 'quiet revolution' in the world of traditional Punjabi music and some others despise the 'pop' status he has given to religious music, the fact remains that Dya Singh is a contemporary musician who has reinterpreted devotional music for a modern audience. He is a proud father of three daughters Jamel, Parvyn and Harsel, who have also taken an active part in this evolution process. Having lived in Adelaide for over two decades, he now lives a life of contentment in Melbourne, both as a musician and as a doting grandfather of two little children. His wife Jessie, a committed rights activist is a global traveler, involved with many NGOs around the world. She says," Dya has the gift of music and I have the gift of the gab. We both try to use it in the best way we can."

And that is undisputable - whether you like Dya's brand of music or not, its hard to remain untouched by it. It is both soothing and stirring at the same time, and above all, it is original - and probably that in itself is his biggest achievement.

Courtesy: India Today

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

  

Racist Humour: A Touch of No Class


A Sikh friend got drawn into a fairly predictable situation recently. He was at a largely Indian function celebrating Divali somewhere in Middle America.
After the evening's concluding piece - bhangra - the master of ceremonies came on with patter that connected bhangra to the usual pointless drivel and jokes on Sardars and Sikhs.


My friend - not the only Sikh in the audience - was offended but kept his peace.

We all know that Bollywood has largely inured us to this and that it is nothing new. Should we just shrug it off and continue to burn and fester on the inside as we have always done? This thoughtful Sikh consulted a small coterie of friends in his town; I got drawn in by default.

He weighed his options. Should he write a strong condemnatory letter, or was there any legal recourse to such "racially" laced humour? The matter, of course, is not entirely racial.

Someone in his consultative forum of friends wondered why Sikhs even attend such functions knowing full well that inane remarks - clothed as humour - will inevitably surface, accompanied by loud and lewd guffaws.
Whether in India or America, for Sikhs such venal humour has a long disgraceful history. It is widespread in India and, until very recently, was a sure laugh getter in Bollywood that inspired this downward spiral in the quality of humour. Being barely two percent of the population in India sometimes we fought it, but more often it was grin and bear it.

We know that a pioneer Sikh-American, Dalip Singh Saund, could not land a teaching job in North America because of the turban on his head but later, sans turban, became the first Asian to be elected to Congress. We also know of the poignant reality of post 9/11 America in which a Congressman (John Cooksey of Louisiana) could make vile jokes about Sikhs as "towel-heads."

Such vicious humour is nothing new and pretty much universal. It is widely seen in school yard bullying, in blue collar pubs and taverns, even in the sophisticated ivied halls of academia. We all know the profanity women walking by on the streets unfailingly face from lewd construction workers on their work-breaks in the sun.

Many of us grew up in this country on racial epithets about Blacks and about the purported ineptitude of Poles (or any one of the other minorities) in changing a light bulb. Such barn humour is not all innocent fun; it cloaks a violent streak which usually, but not always, stays hidden just beneath the surface, and cuts like a shiv in the back. Blacks and gays have long been at the receiving end of such "humour" that, at times, turned to violence and even lynching. Women have often been taunted in public space by sexual innuendo that was sometimes followed by sexual crimes.
But the idea that "boys will be boys" usually provided an efficient cover. And society often laughed off such loutish behaviour.

Things are achanging and at a rapid pace.

Schools are now starting to enforce a policy of zero tolerance of bullying. In the work place nobody now laughs at religious, sexual, racial and ethnic innuendo. Perhaps gay jokes are the last to go, but they are unquestionably on their way out of our consciousness and vocabulary. This type of behaviour is not humour; it is plain and simple discrimination - a hate crime. The new mantra is "Don't be a bystander if you see someone being picked on."

I remember when admission officers would laugh off women applicants to medical schools in this country and admit barely a handful. I remember when women rarely applied to a surgery program for training, not because they didn't want to become surgeons, but because only a rare one would get in. Why even try when the odds are stacked up against you?
Change is coming - and has come, particularly in the last decade or two. Perhaps the largest leap forward occurred when women started joining the armed services. No society can continue to demean and diminish those who fight and die for it.

Ironically, Sikhs are in the rare and unenviable position of having been India's dedicated defenders in its periodic wars against all enemies, foreign and domestic - having died for the country - and yet becoming the butt of vicious humour in Indian society and its film industry.

How best then to deal with the situation that I described above? To sit quietly, even applaud and put up with it is to be masochistic. The stiff upper lip and a forced smile is not what life demands or expects of us.
To boycott such events might salve our ego but it really would not advance our cause all that much. A head-on protest is fine and could be useful; but it is not always feasible. To always turn the other cheek is not the advice I unfailingly want to follow. And history tells me that perhaps matters are already on the other cheek by now.

So what we often do is to turn inwards, get into a siege mentality, circle the wagons, batten the hatches and refuse to engage our perceived enemies in any manner except by the message of stony and silent seething. A demeanour of icy aloofness was advised to me by many of my Sikh friends after 1984 when every other day one or the other VIP came from India to sell another chock full of lies. I was often warned by my Sikh friends that to engage with our foes in such dialogue carried the risk that I might get brainwashed. I thought there was little danger of that but if it happened Sikhs would be able to write me off with good reason.
It is good to know what the enemy is up to and what kind of ammunition he carries. The tactic of isolation seems the least profitable. It is useful only if the foe is sensitive to our pouting demeanour - in which case he wouldn't be doing the dumb and offensive things he is doing.

Those who fear the danger in our being brainwashed by such insidious contact perhaps should take heart that there is another potent possibility. Perhaps such contact - open hearted but clear headed and determined - might work on our foes and erode their viciousness instead. If nothing else, it would put them on notice that we can take them on in their own turf.
This would be my view no matter who the perceived enemy is: Agents provocateurs of the Indian government, scholars like Hew McLeod with whom we might disagree on specific issues, Bollywood icons, or half-baked emcees and comedians on the rubber chicken circuit.

Not all such situations are amenable to the same treatment. Some situations can be cured, others are only managed; some are not easily manageable or curable. How to turn such events into teachable moments is the question.

Many cases come to mind. Not in the too distant past it was not uncommon for beards and long hair to be raised as issues in job discrimination. I remember such cases at the university level and at employment opportunities in the New York Telephone Company around 40 years ago. We were able to turn some of these situations into teaching and learning opportunities. Some were easily faced head on; others required a more subtle and drawn out strategy with very different tactics. Similarly for the many opportunities for dialogue in interfaith symposia; some were progressive and useful, others not quite so.

Of course, we now have SALDEF, Sikh Coalition and United Sikhs and their dedicated lawyers to step in and invoke protection of the law. They help us define and mend our relations with the society around us.

I am reminded of a most recent occurrence where a Black, Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. of Harvard University, coming home late at night and fiddling with the lock of his door was arrested by a White police officer in Boston and suspected of breaking in. It seemed that the White officer, the Black professor and even President Barak Obama might have made some off-the-cuff, unthinking and insensitive judgmental remarks about Black or White behaviour thus inflaming racial tensions in our society that has yet to get beyond colour and race.

The incident exploded into a full blown opportunity for the likes of Rush Limbaugh to spew racial invective and nonsense on the air for a few days. Finally President Obama addressed the nation on it, transformed it into a teachable moment, hosted a meeting of all those involved at the White House and largely laid the matter to rest.

What was important was to transform the circus into a teaching opportunity on where we are in such matters now in the 21st century.
Another case in point headlined the news just days ago. Two prominent lawmakers in North Carolina made some thoughtless remarks about Jews being chintzy penny pinchers in an op-ed piece in the local newspaper. Their comments were universally interpreted to be demeaning to the Jews and now the politicos are backtracking with apologies.

I know that in the midst of an ongoing function, there is not always the opportunity to intervene. But in the matter of the anti-Sikh joke at the Indian function, there is a limited response we should be able to make.
I think now at this late date, a carefully and firmly worded note to the President/ Secretary of the society and "comedian" would be appropriate. It should point out that the world has changed in the past decade. Such insensitive remarks do not sit well - be they about Sikhs, Poles, Jews, Blacks, Women, Gays or even Hindus. These are rightly seen as hate crimes under the law now.

Every tradition and all people can be treated as buffoons - no matter what gender, color, race, religion or ethnicity - but that only indicates a paucity of imagination and a lack of sense and sensitivity in the person who thinks he is a star for being tasteless and uncouth.

And, of course, it needs to be said that the bigmouth lays himself open to whatever he dishes out. This helps neither the individual nor society. We would be just as offended if the joke was at the expense of Hindus, Muslims, and Jews, Christians or any other group of people.

As immigrants, we need to be mindful that many Indians are also at the receiving end of such remarks that go under the rubric of "humour." Recall that not so long ago, the Indian community in the USA was up in arms when George Allen, the sitting Senator from Virginia, used a racial slur - Macaca - to deride an opponent, S.D. Sidarth an immigrant from India.
Surely a better and meaningful sense of humour can and needs to be cultivated by the purveyors of such sick sense of what is amusing.
And, of course, the threat of a boycott of such functions should be clearly apparent. The most effective weapon is often one that is aimed at the pocket book.

To bend an adage, I suppose I should add that humour, like beauty, lies in the eye of the beholder. In the human eye there are a couple of chambers; the contents are referred to as aqueous humour and vitreous humour - now called vitreous body. In teaching anatomy I often quip with students that some of us carry three kinds of humour - aqueous, vitreous and vicious.
Clearly the third kind is no humour at all but is pure poison of human relations. A hate crime needs to be seen as such.

P.S. A letter along the lines suggested here was drafted and sent. Matters are moving along but not yet entirely laid to rest.
　
November 8, 2009
ijsingh99@gmail.com

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

Music is integral to most religions, perhaps because the language of music is universal, and transcends the limitations of the spoken or the written word. One doesn't have to understand the words or their meaning to revel in, for example, the glorious spirituality of Gregorian chants, or the inimitable synchrony of a choir, or the resonance and the longing of the soul in a cantor's voice. Clearly, the appeal of instrumental music doesn't depend upon words. One doesn't even need to understand the mathematical inter-relationships of the notes, or their infinitesimally small fractions, to, for instance, appreciate Indian classical music.
Most religions, therefore, use music to frame their worship, with one notable exception. Islam finds music a distraction and does not allow it in religious service, even though the muezzin's call for prayer is intensely musical, and not the monotone of ordinary speech. And yet, some exceptional exponents of classical Indian music have been Muslims, and the spirituality in Muslim Sufi music is legendary.


This brings me to a curious period in Indian history. The Mughal dynasty, constituting kings who professed the Islamic faith, ruled much of India during the 16th and 17th centuries, and into the early 18th - roughly contemporaneous to the period of the Ten Sikh Gurus. Most of the Mughals were notable patrons of art and culture, some even of music.


Aurangzeb ruled India at the fag end of the dynasty, commencing in the latter half of the 17th century. He imposed on his far-flung empire a tight and an overly strict, fundamentalist Muslim regime, intolerant of others who did not subscribe to his own, narrow interpretation of the Faith.


Since music had no place in Islamic worship, he decreed that there be no music in Indian society. There are even some sad stories of musicians of the day who symbolically administered last rites to their musical instruments and formally buried them.


Three religions were extant in India at that time. Islam was politically dominant; Hinduism was the faith of the majority of the people, while Sikhism was the newly emerging belief of a small minority.
Islam had no problem with banning music, for its worship had no use for it. Hinduism submitted to the new laws, even though music was a necessary ingredient of its culture.


Sikhism, however, must have found itself somewhere between a rock and a hard place. Better than 90 percent of Sikh scripture consists of hymns, each carrying instructions on how it is to be performed. The musicology is specified and is an integral part of worship. The "raag" and "taal" of each hymn is listed. The bulk of Sikh scripture was completed in 1604, with final minor additions made around 1706. Through the years that Aurungzeb ruled with his regressive diktats, Sikhs continued to celebrate their worship in music.


Aurangzeb, known for his authoritarian and intolerant ways and his cruelty, must have deemed it a challenge to his authority: after all, the scripture of the Sikh Faith - still nascent during that early period - had put music front and center.



Here's something worth pondering over... and for scholars to explore: How did Sikh sacred music survive that tumultuous period?

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

Music of the Spheres by CHARU SINGH


Bhai Baldeep Singh is a rare artiste and a mystic studying the deeper mysteries of Naad or Svaar - the divinity of sound, of syllable, of voice raised and suspended, of silence within and beyond the voice and of the deep sacredness of Naad.


Baldeep Singh is an exponent of the kirtan maryada tradition that stems from the compositions of the Gurus in the Guru Granth Sahib. He is the 13th generation exponent of this tradition that he has inherited from his grand-uncles and their forefathers, specifically from Bhai Gurcharan Singh and Bhai Avtar Singh.


He is also a dhrupad and jori exponent as well as a versatile scholar-teacher who attempts to transmit this rare heritage of sacred Sikh music to students in India and abroad.


In a unique journey of discovery, Baldeep Singh's interest in Naad led to deep research and reproduction of instruments played in the Guru's courts - instruments which are virtually extinct today. The idea was to bring alive the sound of the intense spiritual music as it was played in the sixteenth century.


This search led him through difficult years, when he tried to find craftsmen who could replicate these instruments. He learned the craft of instrument-making from Gyani Harbhajan Singh.


Today he not only makes these instruments, but has students to whom he is transmitting this rare knowledge. He is credited with reviving the pakhawaj-mridang and jori of Punjab and has also carved by hand the nomadic rabab, saranda, taus and dilruba.


Baldeep Singh says: "The entire purpose of my existence in the field of arts is as a conservator, especially with regard to the intangible, with the living assets of our heritage. My concept of conservation is to learn and live them".


He adds: "I really pioneered the instrument revival from 1987 onwards. It was back then that I began a hunt for people who could make instruments dating to the Bhakti and Gurbani tradition. My search led me to Gyani Harbhajan Singh Mistry and, since the early 90s, I have handcrafted back to life the taus, the dhrupadi rebab, the saranda and the jori-pakhawaj of the Guru's court".


In an attempt to get more organized in the spreading of his unique talents and wisdom, Baldeep Singh has set up the "Anad Foundation", currently headquartered in New Delhi, but with ambitious plans of launching a conservatory at the fortress of Sultanpur Lodhi, near Kapurthala, Punjab.
"My vision for the Anad conservatory, an institute of Sikh aesthetics and culture, is really to set up an open university dedicated to cultural studies. We already have a panel of top conservation architects from across the world to initiate the work at the fortress of Sultanpur Lodhi, negotiations for which are currently at an advanced stage".


In Delhi, Baldeep Singh plans to set up a rare Sikh arts gallery with a unique instruments display. He also started a concert series in 2005, called "Laya Darshan", to celebrate the richness of rhythm.


Another concert series, "Jashan", began in 2006. He also did a concert for peace and understanding in Arizona, U.S.A.. The Anad lecture series was initiated in 2007 and lastly, there is the Anad Kav Mala, which includes a series of events celebrating poetry, beginning in March this year.


February 27, 2008


[Courtesy: The Tribune]

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network

 

Twenty years ago, 19-year-old Baldeep Singh was sitting through an interview at the Air Headquarters in New Delhi. Since his early childhood, he had dreamt of becoming a fighter pilot, and even an astronaut.
At some point during the interview, his eyes closed and he had a vision of travelling in a train on a dark night. As the train thundered along, he saw the lights of a station, which he thought was his destination, flash past. Instead of slowing down, the train switched tracks and kept boring into the night.


And the realization dawned on him: his destination was elsewhere.


He got up and left. While the dream of a career in the Air Force was abandoned, some of the skills he had picked up as an aero-modeler were to be invaluable to him later. Since then, Bhai Baldeep Singh has been in relentless pursuit of another quest: to revive and preserve the disappearing and lost traditions of devotional and other genres of music.


As the 13th generation exponent of the Sikh kirtan maryada, he may have found his métier, but not yet his destination.


The seed of the passion for music was probably sown in him when, as a baby, he was rocked to sleep in his mother's lap while she sang lilting shabads in time with the dholak. Baldeep started playing the tabla himself at the age of three or four.


The flame was fed by his grand-uncles, Bhai Gurcharan Singh and Bhai Avtar Singh, the 11th generation exponents of the tradition, under whose tutelage he learnt the highly evolved and complex heritage of shabad-reets.
Over the years, Bhai Baldeep Singh has devoted himself to mastering all aspects of kirtan: the melody (raag), the rhythm (laya), mystical poetry (bani), and expression (bhav). The eternal song, he says with a faraway look in his eyes, is "the symbiosis of the four intangibles".


Even as he talks about history and his own research, he bursts forth into song to explain a subtle point of a raag or the rhythm.


According to Baldeep, the holocaust of the partition of India in 1947 dealt the severest blow to the oral intangible heritage. Centuries of invasions by the Afghans, Turks, French, the British and others, did less damage than that single event. It uprooted tribes amongst whom were the most talented bearers of musical heritage and forced them to migrate to safer havens. Legendary figures, such as the saintly Rabābī of Śrī Anandpur Sāhib, Bhāi Kalu, were murdered by members of their own Muslim community while on their way to the newly formed Pakistan. Their crime: they sang Gurubānī!
Reconstructing ruined buildings or broken objects is easier than bringing back to life the intangible arts and recreating lost skills. And yet, without knowing why a particular instrument was used by a long gone master, and what that instrument was made of, or what were its dimensions, how can one revive an art or a tradition?


It is this pursuit of the intangible that took Baldeep to some of the remote back-roads of the country, where he met craftsmen whose knowledge and skill would have died with them had Baldeep not codified it.
After giving up all hope of getting any of the well-known musical instrument companies to make some of the instruments used by the Sikh gurus, his research led Baldeep to Gyani Harbhajan Singh "Mistry" in Ludhiana (Punjab), who had made instruments, until the late 40's, for legendary musicians such as Ustad Bhai Batan Singh of Mehli, Kapurthala .
"I am the one you are looking for", said Gyaniji, when Baldeep explained his quest. But, Gyaniji added "Meri kamani dhay gayi hai!", meaning "My bow had no strength left in it". Baldeep convinced the master craftsman that Baldeep's strength, combined with Gyaniji's knowledge, was the combination that could bring the past to life.


Over the years, amongst the instruments that have been resurrected by the duo are the taus, the saranda and the rabab. Thanks to Baldeep's aero-modelling prowess, he has documented every dimension and detail of many instruments and has hand-crafted many to designs dating back to the times of the Sikh gurus.


Even tools such as chisels and gouges have been recreated to fashion the musical instruments. To institutionalize the perpetuation of this knowledge, a workshop has been established to revive the instruments and the craft, and has begun training the next generation of instrument makers.
Baldeep himself has carved by hand the nomadic rabab (also known as the dhrupadi rabab), saranda, taus and dilruba. He has also designed a new tanpura and recreated the jori and the pakhawaj-mridang of the Punjab.
The taus (meaning peacock in Persian) is made in the shape of a peacock, has 28-30 strings and is played with a bow. Very similar to the dilruba in construction and in playing technique, it has a bigger sound box and, therefore, produces a much more resonant and mellow sound. Guru Hargobind created this instrument, which is probably why it is so big, given his own physical size.


It was also a favourite of Guru Gobind Singh (the tenth Sikh Master) who always welcomed any rabab or taus player into his court. This saaz (instrument) was a favourite with the late Bhai Avtar Singh, one of Baldeep's teachers.


Guru Amar Das (1479-1574), the third Sikh Guru, also had a great passion for folk music. Legend has it that the saranda was born from his passion for music. The prevalent saranda, which was played in the outdoor - tribal and war-time - settings, was modified by making it about five inches longer and half an octave lower to make it appropriate for the classical music. It is a large bowl-shaped string instrument and is played with a bow. The saranda produces a hauntingly beautiful deep tone quality to accompany the human voice.


Guru Arjan Dev (1563-1606), was a master musician and musicologist. He is said to have given us the jori by splitting the mridang into two.
While an acknowledged vocalist, Baldeep is actually a master of percussion. He was anointed "khalifa" in 1995 by Bhai Arjan Singh ‘Tarangar' from whom he learnt the 400-year-old silsila (system) of the jori and pakhawaj.
Pakhawaj is essentially a north Indian version of the mridangam and is the most common north Indian representative of the class of barrel-shaped drums known as mridang.


The Pakhawaj is an elongated wooden drum with skin stretched over both ends and is the most traditional percussion instrument of North India. Pakhawaj compositions are passed down from generation to generation. Like those of the tabla, they are taught through series of mnemonic syllables known as bol.


Once common throughout North India, the pakhawaj has been replaced by the tabla over the last few generations. Baldeep's younger son, Leonardo Amar Dhyan Singh, all of ten years old, is showing promising talent on the pakhawaj.


Baldeep's tireless pursuit of reviving our priceless intangible heritage is not confined to Sikh devotional music alone. He is bringing the lesser known genres of music to the world through his World Music Heritage Series.
In 2001, on one of his occasional visits to the Sangeet Natak Akademi, he discovered a three-minute recording of Sakar Khan, a singer of the Manganiar tribe of Rajasthan. The acoustics, the playing style (including the bowing and the harmonics) reminded him of the jap, dhyān and simran modes used in the mārgī sańgīt and were so alluring that he began searching for Sakar Khan.


Two years of effort finally bore fruit. Through the renowned ethno-musicologist Komal Kothari, Baldeep found Sakar Khan. What blew him away, however, was the discovery that the instrument that Sakar Khan plays was actually the lost bowed rabāb, hidden innocently under its folk name of kamáycha, which simply means an instrument played with a kamān (bow).


Even more gratifying is the fact that the technique that Sakar Khan had retained will now live on, hopefully further evolve and, perhaps even be reinstated in Indian classical music. A CD of Sakar Khan's music (his four sons are proficient musicians and perform all over the world) is being brought out by Bhai Baldeep Singh's World Music Heritage Series.
For a brochure to accompany the CD, Bhai Baldeep Singh needed some photography done. He asked me to accompany him to Jaisalmer to shoot pictures of Sakar Khan and his family. It was a most pleasurable, in fact an elevating, experience.


Apart from indulging my passion for photography, I was enthralled by three generations of outstanding musicians. Sakar Khan, his four sons and many grandchildren, played and sang their hearts out for us in Hamira, their village near Jaisalmer.


But Baldeep's journey is a lonely one. As he says, "When I look into the mirror I ask, who am I? What do I do? Am I a revivalist? If so, of what? Am I a musician? Am I a researcher? Am I a conservator? Am I an instrument maker? A poet? A percussionist? A cultural activist? Then, I hear silence! Every few weeks, I enter a new incarnation."


In fact, Bhai Baldeep Singh is a representative of the historical and geographical Punjab (which is much larger that its political boundaries). His inspiration comes from the GurBani. His mentors are the Sikh Gurus whose tradition he is trying to keep alive. He does not belong to any area or genre. He is proud of the fact that he is a trustee of a tradition that includes in its etymology 36 authors (whose writings are quoted in the Guru Granth Sahib), more than twenty languages (also in the same holy book) and enlightened beings from Kabir to Namdev, from Guru Nanak to Bhakti and Sufi saints, whose wisdom and spirituality is the essence of the Sikh Kirtan maryada and parampara.


His is an unending search for the soul of the raag. Is it in the melody, or the shabad or the taal? And then, he admits, that all these questions leave him "avaak", i.e., speechless with wonderment and awe.


I have to confess that I have the same feeling after a session with Bhai Baldeep Singh.

Attachments - Sikh Philosophy Network