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Fact, Fiction & Myth

by I.J. SINGH

 

For years, I have wondered what to make of the Janam Sakhis in Sikh history, belief and practice.

For those who are new to the term, these are some of the earliest accounts of Guru Nanak, the founder of the faith. They weave history, mythology and imaginative fiction so skillfully and intricately that any child would be totally fascinated, and a thinking adult almost equally mystified.

Literally meaning "life story", a Janam Sakhi originally reflected only the traditional narrative and anecdotal prose relating to the life of the First Sikh Master, Guru Nanak. The term is now applied equally to narratives of the lives of subsequent Gurus. None of them appear to be contemporaneous accounts, but may have been written and collated during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, or even later.

Janam Sakhis comprise brief parables on the Guru's life, sometimes supplemented by interpretative comments. Their language is mostly Punjabi, the script almost always Gurmukhi. They constitute the substantial corpus of early Sikh narrative and exegesis. That remains their primary purpose, as is also clear from the word "Sakhi", which from its Sanskrit derivation means "evidence or testimony", but in Punjabi denotes a story or anecdote.

Consistent with this meaning and purpose, Janam Sakhis provide biographical details, not just of birth, one meaning of the word Janam, but its wider meaning - a biography.

Necessarily then, these accounts consist largely of anecdotes that provide testimonial evidence of the divine mission of the Guru. Some entries in Janam Sakhis present the evidence in the form of discourse that the Guru might have held at a certain time with a noted scholar or opponent. These often contain additional interpretative material.

For further exploration, I refer readers to the historian Kirpal Singh's 1969 seminal work on Janam Sakhis, and also to the entry by Hew McLeod in the The Encyclopaedia of Sikhism (1996), published by Punjabi University.

There are some fantastical stories in the Janam Sakhis that defy all logic and commonsense. Yet, they are a critical window to a certain time in history - its people and their culture. They continue to remain a vitally important, though not always reliable, resource of Sikh history.

There are at least four such hagiographic accounts, largely written between 15^th and 17^th centuries, or so the current crop of historians tells us. Perhaps one of the most authoritative Janam Sakhis on the life and travels of Guru Nanak was presumably penned by Bala.

Tradition and folklore tell us that Bala, a Hindu, was perhaps one of the first followers of Nanak and, with Mardana, accompanied Guru Nanak on his extensive travels.

Historians now tell us that Bala may not have existed. Mardana, a Muslim, certainly did; some of his writings are incorporated in the Guru Granth.

Who, then, wrote what is popularly credited to Bala remains an open question.

Nevertheless, these semi-historical accounts, often richly laced with mythological and fictional references that run contrary to Sikh teachings, have played a central role - and still do - in the daily lives of ordinary Sikhs and in how Sikhism has been propagated for generations. There is undeniable magic and mystery to them and the tussle with logic and reasoning continues unabated.

My thoughts went to the Janam Sakhis while recently traipsing through Spain.

In Barcelona, we were caught up in the majesty of a Roman Catholic Church that has been a hundred years in the making and is still incomplete. Two years ago, I was told, the builders raised about 24 million dollars; a paltry two million from donors, and another 22 million from tourists. If this level of funding continues, the buildings should be completed by 2020.

This, the Sagrada Familia (Sacred Family) church, was commissioned in 1883. A religious mystic, the architect Gaudi worked on it for 43 years, considered it his supreme achievement and, at times, stood at street corners, begging bowl in hand, to raise funds for it.

As expected, this monumental cathedral presents tons of stonework and massive, larger than life sculptures. One façade, for instance, is dedicated to vignettes from the early life of Jesus - events surrounding his birth, gifts of the Magi, and so on.

The opposing face of the building, comprising 100 sculptures, depicts his last two days, including crucifixion and rising from the dead. The saga concludes with a golden figure of Jesus, almost atop the church, on his way to heaven.

Clearly some of it, such as the trial and crucifixion, are history. Other matters, like rising from the dead or the assumption, never historically verifiable, nevertheless continue to shape the Christian message even today.

To me, these powerful images, carved in stone, are the illustrative versions of the Janam Sakhis of Christianity.

All one has to do is to walk around the church to imbibe the basic story that is fundamental to Christian belief.

Some matters are true beyond doubt; others are a tribute to human imagination and a longing of the heart. No religious tradition appears free of such depictions.

They remind me of the words of T.S. Eliot:

Think now

History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors

And issues, deceives with

Whispering ambitions,

Guides us with vanities. Think now

 

Of course, like other hagiographic accounts, such as those found in Sikh lore and those of other faiths also, many portrayals attract controversy.

For example: the official guide didn't tell us, but a handful of devout Roman Catholics, including some monks, stage monthly vigils to protest the visibility of genitalia in the sculptures of Jesus.

All hagiography is not history, but all history is narrative. History and hagiography are inseparably intertwined; they can be parsed, but only with delicacy, sensitivity and a gentle touch. They may not be abruptly ripped apart without doing substantial damage to the tradition.

Are we not all products of our own stories? Isn't all life but inventing and telling stories? Not all stories are evidence-based, nor do they always need to be. Some emerge from our dreams, hopes and despair. We weave stories about ourselves.

Cultures tell stories through myth, through history, and through art, as much as they do through science.

These stories construct culture, art and history; they are the glue that holds us together and gives us a sense of self; they are the essential underpinnings of a society and a community. These stories inform, entertain and in many cases, enlighten us.

These stories of lives and of people are our collective heritage.

Are we not impoverished when our daily lives are sealed from them because the narratives do not always meet the intellectual rigor of our expectations?

Don't we lose some of our connection with the past in neglecting this part of our heritage?

Many parables and myths of the past impact our lives every day at some level of awareness.

What culture and myth tell me is that the religious reality deserves to be accosted by the dual lenses of faith and reason; the joy of Sikhi demands both in our existence.

Scholars can dismiss the complex mixture of fact and fiction and often do, but they have an impact more vibrant, greater and longer lasting than either fact or fiction alone.

Says the Guru Granth: Baabania(n) kahaania(n) put(h) sapout(h) karainn - it tells me that, through reflection on and the collective wisdom of our tradition, we transform and ennoble ourselves [p 951].

 

July 23, 2008

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