You
too can participate in this unique way of remembering and honouring
our long-forgotten War Heroes from the First World War …
Since
the close of the 19th Century, increasing number of Sikhs have made
their home in the Western Hemisphere.
In Britain, in
particular, as proud Sikh-Britons, they have marked every major Sikh
anniversary / centenary with the requisite finesse and aplomb.
As
a 10-year old in 1969 when we celebrated the 500th anniversary of the
Birth of Guru Nanak, to 30 years later with the Khalsa Tercentenary
in 1999 … and beyond … I have observed a string of inspiring
projects and events to mark those milestones.
This year
we have once again risen to the occasion and absorbed ourselves in
marking the 30th Anniversary of the Indian government’s attack on
The Golden Temple and the country-wide anti-Sikh pogrom that followed
a few months later, also in 1984.
However, if we
cast a dispassionate eye over what impact those numerous landmark
events have had on the public at large or even our immediate
neighbours, then the unfortunate but true answer is ‘Very little!’
or even nothing at all. Politicians and local dignitaries have made
placatory or congratulatory speeches, availed of the mandatory photo
op, and then departed.
The sad truth is that as they
still have no meaning to their own existence or heritage.
This
year the UK and others stand at the forefront of commemorating the
centenary of the First World War (“WW1“).
As they
do, it gives the Sikhs a unique opportunity to take centre stage and
remind everyone of the immense contributions made by our ancestors.
It is not an exaggeration to say that they changed the course of
history by helping secure victory in a conflict that engulfed the
globe. The world as we live in now was defined by the courage and
fortitude of the brave soldiers shown then.
It is all very
well for governments to declare that they wish the Centenary to be
inclusive and relate the narrative of all communities. The reality is
that this will not happen by itself.
It is time for
every Sikh to step forward and join in.
We are not being
asked to face bullets or mortars. Nor are we leaving the comfort of
home for horrid trenches in foreign lands. All we need to do is evoke
the memory of those Sikhs who fought for the cause of freedom and in
doing so upheld the greatest traditions of the Warrior-Saint
creed.
Let’s stand up and be counted.
THE
LETTER
From time immemorial, countless soldiers have died, and
their sacrifice has been honoured by their people through recognition
of their individual and collective bravery.
THE UNKNOWN
SOLDIER has therefore become universally recognised as a
description for those brave men who could not be accorded due
recognition by their fellow man, having remained in anonymity because
of the fog of war.
Yet, they remain “Known to God”
and in our hearts.
Hence our various memorials to The
Unknown Soldier.
On the eve of the centenary of the
outbreak of WW1 the1418now.org campaign has initiated a
remarkably powerful public initiative.
Formed of
thousands of letters from people expressing their thoughts, regrets,
wishes, and blessings, the “Letter to The Unknown Soldier” will
represent a living memorial to the immortal hero who transcends
time.
This wonderful project invites all people every where,
you and me included, to pen our own letters to The Unknown
Soldier and post it as part of this extraordinary
memorial.
The letter below written by
the 1914sikhs.org team on behalf of the Sikh Nation to The
Unknown Sikh Soldier is a humble effort to pay tribute to the
Sant Sipahi-s who we have unwittingly allowed to be obscured from our
individual and collective consciences.
Please share and, even
better, still write your own letter so that, after 100 years, we can
lift the veil of anonymity and accord due credit to our
forefathers.
* *
* * *
LETTER
TO THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER
July 2014
Our dearest
Son:
After a lifetime-and-a-half of searching, we have at last
found you. You are no longer an invisible face amongst the
alphabetically dead, another body draped out to dry on the
blood-stained barbed wire.
Now at last we can honour the
selfless courage of our beloved Sikh soldier.
We
cannot begin to imagine how it must have felt to leave the plum and
orange sunshine of the Punjab for the spectral black and white
shadows of war. The cold trees that stood sentry over you as you lay
waist-deep in mud and maggots, with only the death-tipped shooting
stars for company as they spat holes in the velvet canvas of
night.
No helmet for you, honourable son, to protect you
from the shells that whistled overhead. Instead you chose to fight
and die with your turban, your faith intact amidst the shattered
corpses.
We told you that the war in Europe would make a man
of you, little realising that it would make you a hero. If you had
known that you were to be baptised in warm blood and rain, would you
have been so eager to serve the King?
We suffered drought and
famine in India over those hard war years. Our crops died in the
fields and so did our boys. We waited to hear from you; not wanting
to believe that you were experiencing an even worse fate.
Perhaps
it is just as well that we didn't receive more than the occasional
heavily-censored letter from you. You wanted to tell us that your
ears were deafened by the sounds of shells, your mouth silenced by
the blood of battle, that young men of every colour and creed were
being butchered like animals ... If we had known all this, then we
would have agreed that there was only one way back to the
Punjab.
When we accompanied you to the recruiting centre
we didn't know that you were heading for a land that we had never
heard of, let alone that you would be fighting an enemy that did not
even threaten our peace. You willingly fought for a power that
occupied our own land. Yet that is the legacy of Empire -
complete strangers are hurled into the cauldrons of war.
We
will never forget you, our Khalsa lion, who roared into battle and
surrendered his life at the click of God's fingers. We will not
neglect your memory and allow your sacrifice to become
meaningless.
Your battle cry is the thunder that rumbles
through time, your sword is the lightening that cuts to the quick.
Your body may sleep, but never your memory.
Waheguru Ji ka
Khalsa, Waheguru Ji ki Fateh!
Your loving Sikh family