I was born in Punjab.
I came to the US about 7 years ago, after high school. I keep the 5 Ks, but have not yet taken Amrit. I draw looks wherever I go. Sometimes curious. Mostly hostile. The hostility arises from ignorance. Our community has done a bang up job of keeping Americans ignorant about us. Someone needs to get a medal for that.
After all these years, I have come to the conclusion that our religion is under the yoke of an imperial power known as Punjabi culture. I have lost count of the number of Indian Hindu friends who gape at me when I tell them that I do not drink alcohol.
I guess I should give you some background about why I think the way I do. About three years ago, when I entered grad school, I met a girl from Philly. I liked her. She liked me. She was not Punjabi, but came from a hard working ethnic Irish family. We dated. We never did anything physical, so no violation of the Rehat was involved. Try telling that to the Granthi of the gurudwara I used to go to, though. The fellow is in the US, but does not speak a word of proper English. Someone's case for a medal is getting stronger.
Getting back to her. She taught me how to cook some American dishes. I taught her everything I knew about Punjabi cookery. About a year ago, she told me that she was serious about me and my faith. I held off on on the engagement because there was something at the back of my mind that told me to be cautious.
There is a nice little informal Gurudwara in the neighboring town which is run by white Sikhs from New Mexico. You can guess why we decided to go there. She took Amrit that day. I promised her that I would take Amrit the day after we met both sets of parents.
I met her parents that weekend. They were concerned about me. But her mother was very gracious. Even went as far as making a special dessert for the dinner.
We flew up to NY to meet with my parents. I had already told my parents that I was bringing home a girl I liked, and that she was not Punjabi, but was going to become a Sikh (this was two weeks earlier). They did not sound very happy about it, but did not create a fuss.
What happened next is one of the worst episodes of my life. My parents, sisters were all insistent that I stop seeing her. Called her some choice names to her face - names that no decent woman should ever have to listen to. My brother tried to intervene, but the damage was done.
The upshot. My to-be fiance, who changed her faith, learned how to cook my favourite food, learned our language, possibly got into some trouble with her family, was humiliated by people I love and care for. For the crime of loving me. All because she was not born in Punjab. Or had no Punjabi DNA anywhere in her heritage.
I offered to disown my family. She would not have any of it. We broke up after a painful two weeks. She wanted to add another family to her own, but it was not to be.
Someone forgot to give my uber-Punjabi family the memo with the words :
Maanas ki jaat, sabhe aike pacchaan bo.
Since then, my mother has pestered me with bios of one strange woman after another. Apparently, they have the right DNA. Coming on the heels of this traumatic time, I am not interested any more in this. At least now. I have begun to hate the one I have.
Are these people any better than a Punjabi version of the KKK ?
Maybe I will never marry, or have kids. My viewpoint on this entire matter has been irrevocably colored by this experience. I just want to make sure that this issue of Punjabi racism, which shames me, is not pushed under the carpet, and my brothers and sisters in faith are aware of this and work to oppose it.
I know where I went wrong. It is easy to be wise after the event. I just hope that my experience can serve to help someone who feels the way I do, but is too nice to speak out against this.
What is the best way in which we can free this beautiful and precious thing called Sikhi from this monstrosity called Punjabiyat ?
Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa,
Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh,
Ranjeet
I came to the US about 7 years ago, after high school. I keep the 5 Ks, but have not yet taken Amrit. I draw looks wherever I go. Sometimes curious. Mostly hostile. The hostility arises from ignorance. Our community has done a bang up job of keeping Americans ignorant about us. Someone needs to get a medal for that.
After all these years, I have come to the conclusion that our religion is under the yoke of an imperial power known as Punjabi culture. I have lost count of the number of Indian Hindu friends who gape at me when I tell them that I do not drink alcohol.
I guess I should give you some background about why I think the way I do. About three years ago, when I entered grad school, I met a girl from Philly. I liked her. She liked me. She was not Punjabi, but came from a hard working ethnic Irish family. We dated. We never did anything physical, so no violation of the Rehat was involved. Try telling that to the Granthi of the gurudwara I used to go to, though. The fellow is in the US, but does not speak a word of proper English. Someone's case for a medal is getting stronger.
Getting back to her. She taught me how to cook some American dishes. I taught her everything I knew about Punjabi cookery. About a year ago, she told me that she was serious about me and my faith. I held off on on the engagement because there was something at the back of my mind that told me to be cautious.
There is a nice little informal Gurudwara in the neighboring town which is run by white Sikhs from New Mexico. You can guess why we decided to go there. She took Amrit that day. I promised her that I would take Amrit the day after we met both sets of parents.
I met her parents that weekend. They were concerned about me. But her mother was very gracious. Even went as far as making a special dessert for the dinner.
We flew up to NY to meet with my parents. I had already told my parents that I was bringing home a girl I liked, and that she was not Punjabi, but was going to become a Sikh (this was two weeks earlier). They did not sound very happy about it, but did not create a fuss.
What happened next is one of the worst episodes of my life. My parents, sisters were all insistent that I stop seeing her. Called her some choice names to her face - names that no decent woman should ever have to listen to. My brother tried to intervene, but the damage was done.
The upshot. My to-be fiance, who changed her faith, learned how to cook my favourite food, learned our language, possibly got into some trouble with her family, was humiliated by people I love and care for. For the crime of loving me. All because she was not born in Punjab. Or had no Punjabi DNA anywhere in her heritage.
I offered to disown my family. She would not have any of it. We broke up after a painful two weeks. She wanted to add another family to her own, but it was not to be.
Someone forgot to give my uber-Punjabi family the memo with the words :
Maanas ki jaat, sabhe aike pacchaan bo.
Since then, my mother has pestered me with bios of one strange woman after another. Apparently, they have the right DNA. Coming on the heels of this traumatic time, I am not interested any more in this. At least now. I have begun to hate the one I have.
Are these people any better than a Punjabi version of the KKK ?
Maybe I will never marry, or have kids. My viewpoint on this entire matter has been irrevocably colored by this experience. I just want to make sure that this issue of Punjabi racism, which shames me, is not pushed under the carpet, and my brothers and sisters in faith are aware of this and work to oppose it.
I know where I went wrong. It is easy to be wise after the event. I just hope that my experience can serve to help someone who feels the way I do, but is too nice to speak out against this.
What is the best way in which we can free this beautiful and precious thing called Sikhi from this monstrosity called Punjabiyat ?
Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa,
Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh,
Ranjeet
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