[Written in a rickety bus on my way back from Dera Sach Khand, Ballan. Typographical and other errors may please be notified or excused.]

The most striking aspect of the social upheaval being fomented at Dera Sach Khand, Ballan, is the pervasive inconspicuousness; quite obviously so, as it is now the home to the newest religion in Punjab, or probably the whole of India – Ravidassia Dharam – a symbolic act of defiance by the angst-ridden Dalit community that witnessed the assassination of one of its religious leaders, Rama Nand.

The environs of this place exude an uneasy calm, further heightened by the presence of security personnel and unnecessary restrictions like the ban on photography, thus giving a cult-like feel to it. At the prayer hall in the sanctum sanctorum where devotional hymns are being sung, the living guru, Niranjan Dass, is sitting unassumingly on a chair, leading the devout congregation. Just below his level, right at the center of this spacious hall, lies the holy scripture placed on an ornate wooden pedestal, Amritbani Satguru Ravidass Maharaj Ji — the bone of contention between the mainstream Sikh clergy and the Ravidassia community.

A stark dichotomy creeps into the mind as one gets used to the vibes of this place. The militant zeal of an assertive, emotional and undermined Dalit community is being tempered with the mystical sublimity of a religion founded on the precepts of Ravidass Maharaj. A sociopolitical and spiritual conundrum too complex to fathom, even for its followers. But how many amongst us have been a witness to the birth of a religion so as to pass judgments on a movement that has such spontaneous and endearing origins?

Almost like an undertone to the raga of hymns being sung, one can hear the murmur of revolt and disillusionment. The whiff of subversion in the air is subtle yet noticeable. A balding, old man — quite representing the urbane and educated middle-class caste minority that forms the Dera’s backbone (apart from the really poor and downtrodden of Punjab) — is talking casually to two others of his type:

“Ki Khalsa? Ae ki Khalsa-Khalsa kari jaande ne!”

In essence, this oversimplified, rustic exhortation sums-up the shortcomings of Sikhism and the sociopolitical fault-lines that lie at the heart of this divisive issue.

During the four-hour long bus journey to village Ballan, I re-read some of the chapters of “Sikh Separatism: The Politics of Faith”, authored by Rajiv A. Kapur. It is probably the most insightful and definitive primer on understanding the evolution and temperament of the Sikh body politic. A product of Cornell and Oxford, Rajiv was an international civil-servant with the United Nations but also an under-recognized authority on Sikh history and culture. I read this book for the first time in 2003 and since then, every page has been underlined and dog-eared for the rarest and incisive references that it provides. In fact, it left me so impressed that I was adamant to invite Rajiv for the inaugural Punjabi Subaltern Summit. As I found out to my dismay, the scholar par-excellence met an untimely demise in 2005 (More should be documented on the man and his family as he was also the great-grandson of a venerated Punjabi nuclear scientist and social reformer, Lala Ruchi Ram Sahni – founder Trustee of The Tribune, founding member of Dyal Singh College, a tireless Hindu activist who spent his life defending Sikhism and a historian of the Gurudwara Reform Movement).

Coming back to that rather candid remark on Khalsa by the Dera follower, the Panth was never in danger but always in a state of flux. The naysayers had started writing-off Tat Khalsa as early as 1853, after the annexation of Punjab by the British (the genesis of “Panth khattre wich” can be attributed to this period of decline). Decades before that, when the Sikh kingdom was at its glory, the essential ritualism being followed by the rulers was majorly influenced by Hinduism, and quite deliberately at that, as their primary motive was to imbue a sense of secularism. A majority of the followers had even refused to distinguish themselves as Sikhs. However, rather surprisingly, after a decade or two under the British rule, the Sikh identity strengthened itself and the number of conversions increased dramatically. One of the reasons being the economic advantages of opting Sikhism, as the British were most favorable to recruiting them in government positions and the army. But the advent of proselytizing missions left the Sikh intellectuals and elites fearing for their identity. The deathly blow came when the royalty, including Maharaja Dalip Singh and Kanwar Harnam Singh, adopted Christianity that lead to a spate of reversions to Hinduism. Furthermore, the community also stood factionalized due to the various orders, schools of ideology and sects within the religion itself. It is at this juncture that Singh Sabha emerged not as an overarching body but as independent regional chapters having varying and sometimes disparate mandates (leading me to a revelation that the first-ever agitation against the proclaimed superiority of the upper-caste Sikhs was launched by Bhai Ditt Singh, who founded Lahore Singh Sabha). In general as well, the impact of centuries-old Bhakti movements had resulted in the culmination of a huge reformist wave that swept the national consciousness. It was decided, although not unanimously, that Khalsa was to be the cornerstone of a true or Kesdhari Sikh. A note must be made here that the elite who exercised influence over the Sabhas were equally concerned about their political representation in the provincial legislature and thus a separate identity was the only way they could rein the majority Hindus and Muslims — one of the reasons why religio-communitarian politics is so firmly enmeshed within Sikhism till now.

Amidst all this chaos and fumbling for sociopolitical distinctiveness that continued right from the days of Nanak Dev, it must be kept in mind that the genesis of Khalsa was directly influenced by the vociferous and loyal following of Jatts, whose cravings for upward social mobility were handled fairly sympathetically by every Sikh guru including and after Amar Das. Even the five symbols of Khalsa bore the lineage of this community. While rummaging through the Archaeological Survey of India’s Library at the National Archives in Delhi, I stumbled on a gem of a book titled “Essays in Honour of Dr. Ganda Singh”, an anthology published in 1951 (only 1100 copies were printed) to mark the passing-away of this celebrated historian. One of the essays penned by Irfan Habib, “Jats of Punjab and Sind”, noted pretty explicitly the romancing of Nanak with this community, at the cost of risking the caste-free nature of his teachings, to make them the exemplar of this fledgling faith. One must be careful in ascribing this bias as communal since Jatts were lowly Sudras but with their zest, vitality and spirit of entrepreneurship could become bastion of Sikh progressiveness. However, the influence exerted by them all across the line of ten gurus led to a gradual militarization of the faith, though it was certainly not the sole reason.

The lower-caste converts from various groupings could not boast the same martial instincts and as such, always felt a little alienated from the boisterous Khalsa brotherhood, although numerous attempts were made to assimilate them by the likes of Gobind Singh. Notably as well, the discrimination against these converts never ceased even after coming to the fold of Sikhism and during the formative years, they were not allowed to enter Harmandir Sahib. The remnants of this bitter divide and discrimination, that wasn’t spoken-of but practiced, still exists in their collective consciousness. What confidence would it bring to the downtrodden when the very individuals who control the supreme and temporal authority, Akal Takht, are getting jailed for criminal acts?

Allow me to pose a question at this juncture – Does the Sikh community living in India, under the auspices of the temporal authority of Akal Takht that is administered by the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee, needs to reassess its social contract with the State? Should the inherently militant symbology and ritualism, which challenges the foundational thread that binds this multicultural Union, give way to spiritual-democratic avenues of expression, since such orthodoxy has become outmoded in the times we live in?

Puritans have also been appalled at the modification of scriptures. Let me risk the loyalty of my patient reader by beginning this interjection with a somewhat incendiary remark. The first-ever translation of Granth Sahib to English by Dr. Ernest Trump in 1877 was preceded with the following quip by him, “The greatest part of the Granth contains a sort of devotional hymn, rather poor in conception, clumsy in style, and wearisome to read…The writings of the old Hindu bhagats (or devotees) are on the whole far superior to those of the Sikh Gurus themselves as regards contents and style, especially those of Kabir from whom Nanak and his successors have borrowed all they know and preach.” We should treat this slightly denigrating statement as a nuanced but dispassionate assessment of an outsider in times when little was known about Sikhism and India. I will furnish some support for the analytical part of this opinion with an authoritative resource, “The History of Punjabi Literature” by Sant Singh Sekhon, in which even this celebrated Sikh scholar enunciates very humbly that the ingenuity and brilliance of Nanak’s poetry and compilation remained unmatched when compared to the contributions of the gurus who followed. So why such a squabble over a holy book that so heavily promoted revisions, additions and deletions as per the tunes of time and quality? Why should an anthological and diverse scripture — whose essential genius lies in the fact that it was written in the peoples’ vernacular and conformed to the syntax and rhyme of Vars, which allowed even the simple-minded village folks to memorize and understand the underlying message – be treated as inviolable? There is no exegetical finality to Granth Sahib.

Lastly, why does an ordinary Sikh look at the deras with denigration, as if something really perverse happens there? It is true that most of the sect leaders are taking the uneducated and poor converts for a ride. One must remember that just about a century ago even the gurudwaras were rife with licentious mahants who committed all sorts of acts sacrilegious to the faith. Remembering the lovelorn Bulleh Shah who had this to say on the prevailing state of affairs in the religious institutions, “Dharamsaal vich dharvi rahinde, thakur dware thug. Wich maseet kusatti rahinde, aashiq rahin alag.” And we must be wary in attributing these expedient followers who dared to challenge the status quo as fools, especially when they are numbered in lakhs and were previously part of the same faith on whose pedestal the apologists are basing their counter-argument.

All that being said, let me end this veiled diatribe with an anecdote. After the prayers at Dera Sach Khand, the congregation gathered in the langar hall for the sacred repast. While the food was being served, the flock had to wait for another ardas to be over, which lasted for almost fifteen minutes, before they could actually bite a nibble. The hungry faces clearly expressed their bemusement over such fancy ritualism. The sarcastic comments being passed under the breath also reminded me that this social group is very mobile and opportunistic in nature, due to their ardent desire of breaking free from the manacles of caste and inequality at any cost. A well-intentioned, humane and empathic effort like that of Singh Sabha may also bring them back to the comforting womb of Sikhism. Or otherwise, a parallel institutionalization and reform of the deras can lead to the establishment of a unified, umbrella body like SGPC that can streamline the movement and make things transparent.

It is my inkling that an average Sikh is craving for a little mystic ritualism and esoteric obscurantism in life. Sometimes, too straitlaced an approach can put the entire metaphysical burden on the shoulders of a devout. An other-worldly, afterlife-based externalization of the spiritual experience does help one to forget the nihilistic aspects of organized religion! Nanak’s unforgiving attitude towards orthodoxy becomes clear when he outgunned and outmaneuvered obscurantism and esotericism in his precedent-setting debate with Naths and Tantrics as recorded in “Sidh Gosht”. It is this cleavage between the existential affirmation of life and the transcendental obscurity of Spirit that the deras have used well to their purpose, almost 85% of whose following is the gullible and backward Punjabi poor. Time is ripe for the Sikh clergy to shed its hegemonic and dogmatic traits; the society is clamoring for a “Protestant Reformation”. Absolutism should give way to an argumentative tradition like that in Buddhism; dissenters (remembering Gurbax Singh Kala Afghana here) should not be maimed or chased away but encouraged to defend their findings in a neutral and meritocratic forum.

Like an initiatory ritual marking the onset of battle, Parkash Singh Badal was reportedly seen hobnobbing with the leadership of the Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP). Flanked by his veritable charm and perspicacity, the Gandalf of coalition politics in the state is firming up the pre-poll formations for times uncertain, against friends and foes alike. His estranged nephew Manpreet who, like an oedipal prince, reneged against the very order that gave him a platform and voice, is angling to lure the Dalit votes in a bid to carve the much vaunted Sanjha Morcha, a ménage-à-trois of the underdogs.

Behind these overtures lies hidden is the fact that probably for the first time ever since 1989 when the BSP opened its account in Punjab, the minority of the oppressed and downtrodden can aspire to improve their skewed ratio of representation in the legislature. It is also a monumental opportunity to establish a real third-front in Punjab that would pulverize the barriers of caste and class, providing a peoples’ alternative against the hegemony of the ruling autarchies.

In the last few years, the state has witnessed an outpouring of angst by the Dalit community. Tormented by the highhandedness of the kleptocracy, incensed further by the discriminatory attitude of an institutionalized clergy that gives them a stepchild treatment, these voices from the underbelly are dying to be heard. In a society overburdened with past and a misplaced sense of history, the parallel narrative of Dalit consciousness was tacitly side-lined under the post-traumatic stress of the partition, the green revolution and terrorism. But the sigh has become a wail now.

More by chance rather than merit, BSP stands in a unique position to capitalize on this wave of assertion. Being a statist party that had gathered its initial support from a burgeoning middle-class among the scheduled castes incentivized by the generous provisions of the constitution, it has successively and unabashedly moved away from idealism to realpolitik. If one were to draw a comparison, BSP’s current standing amidst the socio-political atmosphere of Punjab shows the same pattern that was once visible in UP during the formative years.

From its founding in 1984, the failure of Bahujan alliances with parties like SP during the early 90s to the formation of a coalition government with a Brahmin-dominated BJP in 1995, the party had graduated from anti-Manuvadi isolationism to adopt a more ambitious, pragmatic and tactically-inclined approach. By 2007, when it staked the claim for a majority government, BSP had also widened its social base by orchestrating a clever scheme of selective distribution of tickets to the representatives of other castes and communities as well. What may have seemed as the marginalisation of the Dalit cause turned out to be a multi-pronged strategy of caste mobilisation. Having realized early on that the ideology of exclusion would stymie the efforts of gaining political dominance, Kanshi Ram evolved a utilitarian approach of favouring priorities above principles. To minimize the uncertainty that comes with pre-poll alliances, Mayawati de-risked the process by hedging it with a policy of distributing seats to non-Dalits. This hybrid system worked marvellously.

In this context, a polity that has lived in constant denial about the acrimonious caste cleavages in Punjab seems completely unsuitable for pre-poll alliances. What further accentuates the problem is that the Dalits of the state, forming a mammoth 30% share of the population, are also marred by internal strife and sectarianism. The Mazhabi Sikhs and Balmikis are at loggerheads with the Ad-Dharmis, Ravidasias and Ramdasias on the fractious issue of “reservation within reservation”. The religious polarisation induced by the Dera politics, further catalysed by an increasing disillusionment with mainstream Sikhism has also added fuel to the fire.

To offset the prevalent discord, BSP would have to reincarnate its early avatar of a social force that thrived on militant zeal and contrarianism, elevating the collective pain of the subjugated to an altogether transcendental level. Resulting from an absolutism of ideology and belief, the lack of emerging leadership and the centralization of ideas has plagued the party for long. What may seem like an internalized dictatorship is actually the result of a flawed outlook that advocates a hyper-aggressive approach towards empowerment, to intensify the level of the discourse and shatter the social hierarchies. Nonetheless, it is imperative that new ideas and fresh talent is imbued in the party’s state machinery. With the total number of reserved seats in the state up to 34 and BSP’s proclamation of going all-out and alone, this becomes a struggle for the rightful identity. As a boisterous Kanshi Ram once pronounced, “We may not win even a single seat, but we are going to demonstrate our strength”.

[The lead story is here: http://www.newsweekindia.com/content/?p=12761]

The flame of emancipation that endures in the hearts and minds of Dalits still casts a spectral shadow on the remnants of an excruciating past, than illuminating the alleyways towards a bright future. If the Indian establishment collectively experiences the pain and horrors of exploitation lasting so many millenniums, the statue of an empowered Dalit would stand deified as the emblem of equality in the hallows of a conscientious democracy. Far away from Noida, from the blistering “twilight of the idols” (as philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would have added mockingly), this story of assertion is heralding a new chapter in Punjab, whose aftermaths would be felt nationwide.

For it was in this state, home to the highest proportion of scheduled castes, that Dalit consciousness took the shape of a formidable socio-political movement, paving the way for an upheaval in UP and across India. What was once a confident and cohesive community strumming to the tunes of empowerment, the Punjabi Dalits are now engaged in a divisive battle to safeguard their interests against each other.  And the averseness shown by successive state governments in lending a patient ear to their woes and aspirations could forever mar the egalitarian credentials of Punjab.

The SAD-BJP administration would be treading a very fine line when it replies to a notice issued by the Supreme Court on the contentious issue of sub-classification of scheduled castes within a stipulated period of three weeks. An apolitical organisation by the name of Chamar Mahan Sabha has filed a special leave petition to revaluate the directives of The Punjab Scheduled Caste And Backward Classes (Reservation In Services) Act, 2006, that allocates a 50% quota to the Balmikis and Mazhabi Sikhs from the overall entitlement of government jobs reserved for the scheduled castes.

As is the norm, the 37 listed scheduled castes of Punjab can broadly be divided into three groups based on their socio-economic standing: 41.9% are the Balmikis and Mazhabis, the Ad-Dharmis and Chamar Sikhs (Ravidasia and Ramdasia) constitute another 41.59% and the remaining 33 castes forming a minority of 16.51%. The second cluster being a relatively progressive lot — with a long history of political, social and religious reforms that have helped them break the manacles of the caste system — took up a lion’s share of the reservation quota. Then there was also the case of occupational mobility as the entrepreneurial Chamars were able to capitalize on the burgeoning demand for leather-based goods in the newly setup British cantonments. On the other hand, the Balmikis and Mazhabis found it increasingly difficult to graduate from their caste’s occupation of scavenging, a debilitating exercise that completely sapped their hopes and confidence. The ignominy associated with their work must be unbearable considering the fact that a law against manual scavenging was passed decades ago. Unable to blend-in with their Dalit brethren from other sub-castes, as there were strict protocols of inter-dining and inter-marriage based on the degree of “pollution”, they could truly be termed as the lowliest of the low.

Driven partially by their plight but more so by political necessities, Giani Zail Singh – the only chief minister hailing from the backward community, a position that is still hogged by the dominant Jats – passed an executive order in 1975 to reserve a 50% sub-quota for the Balmikis and Mazhabis in direct recruitments. The progressive decision inspired many other governments to take up the case of “reservation within reservation” with Haryana implementing a similar provision in 1994, also fostering sub-caste movements in states like Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. Citing a Supreme Court decision that declared sub-classification as “unlawful and unconstitutional”, the Punjab and Haryana High Court ruled over the orders of the state government in 2005 in response to a writ petition filed by a Chamar. Aggravated by the decision, the Balmikis and Mazhabis took to the streets leading to incidents of public disturbance and vandalism. Realizing that this development could have an impact on the approaching elections, the Congress government hastily drafted the aforementioned Act to reinstate the provisions. Amidst all drama, it was passed on the concluding day of the last session of the 12th Vidhan Sabha. To add a little twist to the tale, the centre had also appointed a commission in 2006 under the chairmanship of Justice Usha Mehra to cast a serious glance on the issue as the Madigas in Andhra Pradesh became more vociferous. The Commission which submitted its report in May, 2008, ruled in favour of sub-classification thus giving a major impetus to the stance of Punjab government.

But the issue is far from resolved as various factions are clamouring to get the rightful compensation for their communities. All eyes are set on Punjab as it tries hard to steer clear from the social cleavages that it has ignored for so long, having acquired an explosive propensity now. From the holy triumvirate of the legislature, the executive and the judiciary whose formulaic deductions are void of empathy, to the religio-communitarian disposition of the Punjabi society that has surrendered its allegiances to an institutionalized clergy and the political elite — all are to be blamed for this mess. Nietzsche compared such societal passivity to the diminishing “pathos of distance” in an environment where equality thrives “as a certain factual increase in similarity”. The Dalits of Punjab must also recall that Ambedkar envisaged reservation as a means to gain political standing and hence, they must strive to remove the disparities of representation in the legislature rather than succumbing to communitarianism.

[An Op-Ed for a regional newspaper to mark the approaching anniversary of the Anandpur Sahib Resolution. Didn't go through due to space constraints.]

The idea of Bharat, posited by nationalists who led us to freedom, as a kind of Hegelian organism, a soul bearing the imprints of history and the collective-consciousness of society, has lost some of its mythical glimmer. Inheriting a range of ethnicities so diverse that it could sum up the very nature of human evolution, any attempt of fostering an equitable identity in this country was to prove formidable. It is in this context that a handful of centripetal formations professing parochial loyalties have repeatedly shaken the unionistic foundations of India with an intensity that has altered the underlying nature of its democracy. On an axis of federalism that has its extremities marked by Tamil Nadu and Kashmir, Punjab lies somewhere in the middle.

Lord Acton, a British historian and moralist of the late 19th century once had an oracular realization that “nationality does not aim either at liberty or prosperity, both of which it sacrifices to the imperative necessity of making the nation the mould and measure of the state.” In envisaging an age of organic federalism, supra-nationalism and globalization, Acton seems to have laid the foundation of modern India in an interconnected world where cultures evolve at the click of a button. The ethos of Sikh nationalism also underwent a major and positive transformation, congruent to the dynamics of this regional and international comity. Shedding the burden of an intransigent past, the Sikh autonomists have relegated to fiscal federalism for furthering the cause of this buoyant community. But if one were to assess this development minutely, in the overarching paradigm of centre-state relations, there remains a lot to be done.

The year 1991 has a monumental importance here. While India took a giant leap from the Nehruvian ambit of planned development, Punjab was resuscitating from the throes of terrorism and economic stagnation. The region highlighted a paradoxical anomaly of being rich but not developed — the per-capita income was high; although judging by the levels of industrialization, the contribution of secondary sector to the state domestic product and on human development indices, it reeled under backwardness. With the highest fiscal deficit compounded by a decade of strife and almost 96% of land under plough, the vestiges of Green Revolution were creaking under strain.

The institutional framework of independent India caters to a selective distribution of power and resources — the only guarantee to forge a distinct pan-ethnicity, eradicate socio-economic disparities and assuage the simmering sectarian undercurrents. The tenets of the constitution leaned towards a unitary republic, clarified by Ambedkar when he exhorted that “the federation is a Union because it is indestructible”. Being the articulator of a cohesive nationhood, the Indian centralist state took to the route of intervention.

From the creation of a unilingual Suba in 1966 to advent of liberalization, Punjab has often been subjected to the centralist bias as evident from the high-handedness in dealing with its natural resources like rivers, the methodology to curb political unrests and fundamentalism, the unsolicited regulation of its agrarian sector, the disproportionate devolution of economic incentives and the marginalization of its industry, etc.

The nature of Indian federalism has three identifiable traits: political, fiscal and constitutional. The subjects of legislative powers — classified into Union, State and Concurrent Lists — can easily be appropriated by the parliament with a volley of provisions. Articles 256 and 257, in conjunction with Articles 365 and 356, necessitate mandatory compliance to the Union Laws and failure may lead to the imposition of the President’s Rule. A series of other such clauses entail the subordination of the state legislature even on matters under its jurisdiction. The administrative machinery of the state also falls under the centre’s purview as codified in Article 258(2). These discretionary powers often wrest on ambiguous phrases like “national interest” that have a tendency to override the public good. Article 131 appoints the Supreme Court as the adjudicator of centre-state disputes, but the ascendancy of the parliament and the central cabinet makes sure that the judiciary implicitly subscribes to the nationalist ideology as has been evident in many of its decisions. The disbursement of financial resources to the state government, especially via non-plan and non-statutory transfers, is also subject to the centre’s discretion that is largely influenced by political expediencies than a benign motive of alleviating inter-state inequities.

From 1991 onwards, when these unitary traits have been pitted against a free-market regime, the states have mainly been left to fend for themselves. While the deliberations of the Sarkaria Commission were largely overlooked, the establishment of Inter-State Council gave a major impetus to realign the quasi-federal arrangement. Having implemented 179 of total 247 recommendations of the Commission, it is rather unfortunate that the Council has not met since 2006. The National Commission to Review the Working of the Constitution setup in 2000 under the NDA regime also came as a whiff of fresh air that has amplified the discourse a bit.

While other states have reaped the benefits of economic boom to bolster their bargaining power, Punjab is still stuck in the quagmire of fiscal imbalances. The enactment of Fiscal Responsibility and Budget Management Act, 2003, seems like a well-orchestrated sham. Mounting non-development expenditures, populist policies that thrive on subsidies, slow growth of revenue and loss-making PSUs have only aggravated the condition; not to add factors like corruption, nepotism and illiteracy. The Sikh federacy stands fractured today as rabid communitarianism has driven the lower castes from its fold and incited sectarian tensions. Since 1980s, the word “crisis” has become synonymous with Punjab, not realizing that its composition in Chinese has two characters that represent “danger” and “opportunity”. Only an inward and inclusive overhaul can herald a transition that can tilt the scales towards Punjab’s favour.

Like the protagonist of the movie Avatar, who rises against the reckless imperialistic pursuits of his race to fight from the side of culturally and ecologically threatened tribals, the Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD) seems to be suffering from its own version of “the white man’s guilt”.  The poem by Rudyard Kipling, which inspired this phrase, is still interpreted to be an ardent justification of imperialism as a way to alleviate the oppressed from poverty and ignorance. The moral high-ground taken by the SAD-BJP combine to justify its ban on Aarakshan, even before it was released, smacks of an analogous and unrelenting casteist ascendancy.

Quoting the preliminary media reports, Punjab Government had received “intelligence inputs” that screening the film could lead to a “law-and-order issue”, as it touches the volatile topic of caste-based reservations. On the surface, it appears to be a benign and considerate attempt to pacify the simmering casteist undercurrents in Punjab which had nearly lead to a riot after Sant Ramanand’s assassination. For a state which boasts the largest Dalit-Bahujan (SC, ST & OBC) population in India, discussions on caste seldom find any mention in the mainstream, probably due the pluralistic and egalitarian ethos of Sikhism. That is as far from reality as the fact that racism has ceased to exist in the West. The cancerous and elusive form of casteism that the Punjabis have adopted under the garb of religio-communitarian politics could lead to a permanent and unbridgeable chasm, destroying the very fabric of secularism on which the Sikhs had founded their identity on.

Coming back to the ban, it was already known that the movie had little to incite any public sentiments. Uttar Pradesh (UP) had already relented to the constant clamouring of PL Punia, a former Mayawati-aide, now heading the all-powerful National Commission for Scheduled Castes (NCSC). It is well-established that the NCSC is merely a Congress subsidiary machinating to usurp the BSP rule in UP. Raj Kumar Verka, an ex-MLA from Amritsar and confidante of Capt. Amarinder Singh, was given the plush appointment of Vice-Chairman of the NCSC to foment a similar upheaval in Punjab. As the movie neared its release, Mr. Verka upped the rhetoric of it being anti-Dalit giving the Punjab Government cold feet. For years, SAD, the unabashedly Jattist party, was trying to find a way to woo the lower-castes which have clearly demarcated themselves from the religious and political mainstream. Factionalism and Dera politics have become the order of day as the desperate Dalit-Bahujans struggle to find security and equality in a larger bid to re-establish and assert their identity. To add to that, the impending results of the nationwide caste census would lay bare the gross inequities and disparities inherent in the Punjabi society. The knee-jerk reaction of the state reminds one of the school of thought pioneered by Thakurs like VP Singh, Arjun Singh and Digvijay Singh that the misery of the marginalized can only be understood by upper-caste leaders. It seems that the Jatts of SAD are on a similar messianic misadventure.

If it had been a Sunny Deol movie than the state government would have organized a special screening for Parkash Singh Badal. Why couldn’t he rise a little above the parochial concerns of his party to display some statesmanship by taking a conscientious call on the ban?

Seldom in the last few years has the Punjab Government enjoyed so much publicity as the news of the ban invited. International media was aghast that the state was meddling into the affairs of artistic freedom and morality, especially on a topic as important as caste, when the censor board had already given a green signal. Fearing a backlash from the Supreme Court, the state government quickly softened its stand by putting pre-conditions before the release like removal of certain “objectionable” dialogues. In a matter of days, the ban was also lifted. There were no reported incidents of vandalism or protest and soon the controversy was forgotten. However, it left a subtle message that the feudal autarchy or the Jatt cabal now feels morally obliged towards the cause of Dalit-Bahujans without ever hearing their real woes for years, without ever bringing them to the fold of their blatantly institutionalized religion, without ever nurturing political leadership among the downtrodden and without even their participation. The upper-caste political elite of Punjab have taken the mantle of emancipation like those overzealous harbingers of freedom who still codename their enemies like Bin Laden as Geronimo. As Noam Chomsky wrote in sheer repugnance, “the imperial mentality is so profound”.

June 29, 2011

Shri Manpreet Singh Badal
C/o Shri Gurdas Singh Badal
Bathinda-Kheo Wali Road
Village: Badal, Tehsil: Lambi
Distt: Muktsar – 152113, Punjab

Dear Sir:

         AN OPEN LETTER TO SOLICIT YOUR GRACIOUS PRESENCE FOR A TV DEBATE WITH SHRI HARCHARAN BAINS

As the harbinger of democratic renaissance which promises to catapult Punjab back to its halcyon days of glory, your persona, intellect and self-effacing disposition has captured the imagination of young and old alike. You have the empathy as well as intensity which pulverizes every perceived barrier of society, shattering the glasshouses of inequities and inequalities machinated deviously by certain unscrupulous elements; a farmer or villager  feels as connected and devoted to your cause as an educated highbrow or urban dweller. The bold brushstrokes of yellow, color of your party, seems to have covered every gali and nukkad of Punjab, as if they are marking the arrival of a new and eternal spring. You stand tall like a warrior-poet, as the bestower of izzat-abroo to a land where men as valiant as Maharaja Ranjit Singh and Alexander the Great have reaped their fortunes — only to share it with the people, only ending up being subservient to them. From the minutest political dynamics to broadest democratic overtures, nothing misses your observant eye and erudition.

However, Sir, I must remind you of a political development — nay, an obligation — that seems to have been overlooked by your party in the heat, literal and figurative, of this election campaign. Shri Harcharan Bains, Media Advisor to the Chief Minister, is a public intellectual of unfathomable wisdom and humility, the kind of which is seldom seen in the corridors of power. I must confess this candidly that not only is he my personal hero but his demeanor, pervasive and transcendental personality, the cultural and artistic richness of his discourse has inspired me so much that I hail Mr Bains as the Richard Wagner of Punjab. It is as if a Sufi dervish has lost his way and meandered into the hallowed halls of politics, mistaking it to be some dargah. But I presume that you are in a better position to appreciate Mr Bains, having spent a majority of your childhood and youth in his overwhelming presence.

During the unfortunate turn of events after your separation from SAD, emotions ran high on both the sides. Sometimes, words or expressions which were to be seen through the lens of gloominess and irony were mistaken as personal attacks or vendetta politics. As the feeling of a monumental loss subsided, Mr Bains requested you to engage in a TV debate in order to provide a decisive and transparent platform on which the people of Punjab could base their pluralistic and democratic aspirations. But in a swift and unexpected way, you marked him as persona non grata. I am sure some misunderstanding attributed to the “fog of war”, if I may, led to this opinion of yours. From that day on, Mr Bains has constantly repeated this request, like he is writhing in the agony of designated insignificance; like a knight chained and locked-up in the high tower, seeing a wave of activity down below yet feeling utterly helpless. I urge you Sir, to free this man from the shackles and accept his request for a debate. Let it be a benchmark for the way in which elections are fought, ideologies are promulgated and leaders are nurtured. It would be a tad bit unfair to disregard him as an unequal political competitor, with three decades of experience and an extremely senior position in the Government of Punjab. And I am doubly sure of you being well-aware that in the present scenario, he is the most experienced, skillful, knowledgeable and entertaining competitor you can ever enter into an oratory duel with. Although I consider Mr Bains’ open letter to you (published by The Tribune on October 17, 2010) as one of the finest polemical pieces in Punjab’s political history, there is to be a gentlemen’s agreement that the debaters would not highlight or point-out aspects from each other’s personal lives, and that any justification should be citable or have documentary evidence. Let the JFK among you unmask a sweaty Nixon!

Yours sincerely,
Pukhraj Singh
Editor, Abroo (ਆਬਰੂ)
www.abroo.in

CC:
Shri Harcharan Bains, Media Advisor to the CM of Punjab
Editor, PTC News
Editor, Day & Night News

[From Facebook....]

Madan Gandhi: If a man is called to be a streetsweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the host of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great streetsweeper who did his job well. (Martin Luther King Jr.)

James Nesral: in western culture, work is view as part of the ‘curse’, resulting from the Fall, as recorded in the Bible…Genesis. but i disagree. work is part of the rythym of life and is sacred.

Pukhraj Singh: The Bible, through its symbolic esotericism, is trying to convey the spiritual ignominy of work. People who work honestly and diligently all their life may still be longing for a closure of their existential or moral pangs. It is merely an illusion that perfection in work may lead to some sort of redemption. Rather, it is in the inherent nature of work, a form of action, that lies, deceit, hate, jealousy and one-upmanship bear fruit. Madan Gandhi seems to have forgotten that in India, the Dalits, or so-called Untouchables, are still being forced to undertake manual scavenging, i.e. removal of human excreta. And this being the 21st century, in the world’s largest democracy, where a law against manual scavenging was passed many decades ago. I can’t imagine someone commenting, “Here lived a scavenger who did his job well”. Ironically, this also reminds me of the adage, Arbeit macht frei (work sets you free), placed over the entrances of Nazi concentration camps like Auschwitz.

End manual scavenging in six months, PM tells states
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/169469/end-manual-scavenging-six-months.html

Scavenging describes its continuance a national shame ; NHRC
http://www.publictrustofindia.com/news/2011/03/15/scavenging-describes-its-continuance-a-national-shame-nhrc/

HC takes Railways to task for employing manual scavengers
http://www.indianexpress.com/news/hc-takes-railways-to-task-for-employing-manu/772880/