Columnists
Let Me Count The Ways ...
by Sardar I.J. SINGH
Innumerable are the ways to address people: Herr, Monsieur, Mister, Bwana, Shri, Sri, Sardar, and many more I have never even heard of. Then why does one appellation bother me more than another? Let's stir the pot vigorously but not maliciously.
Sikh males have been historically addressed as Sardar so-and-so Singh, while their women counterparts have been called "Sardarni". To Kapur Singh, an iconic Sikh writer, "Sirdar" was the chosen and more exact spelling for the word. "Sardar" is apparently rooted in the Persian and Arabic "chief", leader or a man of substance.
My brief forays into culture and history tell me that the title has been used for Sikhs and Muslims on the Indian subcontinent, particularly Punjab, but not for Hindus. Why this is so, I can't even hazard a guess. The only English equivalent that I can think of would be "Esquire" when referring to a man of respect, particularly a landed gentleman with considerable property. But in much of the English-speaking world, "Esquire" has been appropriated by lawyers, so as to now be indicative of belonging to the legal profession.
Given the many generic equivalents of the term that I started this column with, why is it then that it bothers me when someone addresses me as Shri I.J. Singh? Now "Shri" is a perfectly acceptable prefix for a male name in the Hindi-speaking world, whose numbers might be close to a billion and getting higher by the day. In India, the home of Hindi, it is almost mandatory, and "Sardar" is less heard of nowadays, even with a Sikh name.
Then I see that the use of "Mister," or any of the others that I mentioned earlier with my name, do not rile me up. So, my reaction is all visceral, with not an iota of logic! Or is that really so? I notice a similar, even stronger gut reaction, in many young Sikh males in the diaspora, who have lived all their lives outside the comfortable cocoon of Punjab. Some might even get fighting mad at being called "Shri."
You see, over the centuries we have connected the honorofic "Sardar" to Sikh names such that it has almost acquired religious connection and magic. That cannot be easily sundered. In India, where we feel in our bones that Sikh identity is under siege by the majoritarian Hindu culture, in which we exist as a drop in an ocean, any attempts to dilute or diminish Sikh distinctiveness bring our blood to a predictable boil. We circle the wagons and reflexively reject "Shri" or any appellation born out of Hindi or Hindu culture. Such is the life of a minority.
Yes, we do viscerally reject "Shri." We welcome, however, its modified form of "Sri" as an appellation for the Sikh Gurus, but not for names of ordinary mortals like you and I. For example, Guru Granth is rarely mentioned without the appellation "Sri" at the beginning, and often "Sahib" at the end. I think it is because the Sanskrit "Sri" has been used from time immemorial for religious figures, prophets and men of God in the Indian culture.
But in the West, though we might be marginalized as a minority, we do not feel any systemic attempt by the majority, or specifically by the state, to swallow our religious distinctiveness. There is no reason to be paranoid. Outside India, we can blame any hostile actions by the majority against us as stemming from their ignorance about us, so we can forgive them more easily. Hence the use of Mister, Herr or Monsieur is less irritating or galling.
In India, we feel that the government and the people should know better. We are a young religion; in India, we are still defining the fences and borders between our religious identity and that of our neighbors. Perhaps it is for this reason that in Punjabi Indian society, "Sardar" remains the preferred address for a turbaned Sikh; people often look askance when it is used for a non-turbaned Sikh.
Then there is the undeniable fact that in India, and particularly from its defining cultural influence, Bollywood, the small minority of Sikhs is continually subjected to ignorant and pointless humor, all centered on the word "Sardar". I wonder why this is so, and can only conclude that it points to an overdose of envy for all that Sikhs stand for. Quite predictably, in India many Sikhs themselves have capitulated to the social pressure and have abandoned the address of "Sardar", and its image of dignity.
I would think that we should easily be able to shrug off the silliness that is thrown at us around the title. In fact, it gives us all the more reason to insist that Sardar and Sardarni be used as the proper mode of address for all Sikhs. One needn't give in to boors by surrendering something that took centuries of sacrifices to earn. Moreover, its proper usage by a non-Sikh for a Sikh only reveals class for the former, and conveys due respect for the latter.
As for myself, when I'm in Indian company, there are no ifs, ands, or buts: I wish to be known as "Sardar". Elsewhere, "Mr" or something similar would do fine.
So, my Sikh friends, to paraphrase Elizabeth Barrett Browning, with minor modification: "How do I call thee? Let me count the ways."
[Both images on top-right: details from "Maharajah Sher Singh hunting with his entourage", a Lithograph by Prince Alexis Soltykoff, Paris, 1850. Courtesy: British Library.]