A recent trend in portrayal of turbaned & bearded heroes in Bollywood has popularised the Sikh image, a much needed impetus to celebrate the identity.

In recent years there has been a trend in Bollywood to have lead heroes in films adorn the garb of Sikhs with the mandatory turban & beard.  Top male actors including the likes of Akshay Kumar, Salman Khan and Saif Ali Khan have played Sikh characters in recent films, cashing in at the box office whilst putting a smile on the faces of some religious leaders. “SinghisKinng” (2008) is one such title with the soundtrack featuring a chorus led by Snoop Doggy Dog, an unexpected choice to say the least.

A forthcoming Bollywood flick called “Rocket Singh” indicates that this trend is unabated. This new found fascination with Sikhs in Mumbai’s flourishing film industry presents an interesting chapter for Sikhs in modern India, the motivation behind this may be more political than we think.

Historically characters depicting Sikhs have often been comedians or presented unfairly as unfurnished in the brain department.  These new characters are more of a celebration of a rich heroic heritage along with addition of significantly more grey matter. So what has changed in the political landscape for such a paradigm shift?

Firstly the election and re-election of Manmohan Singh as Prime Minister, has provided an impetus to boost the image of Sikhs in India and globally. Secondly, the recent amphibious terror attack on Mumbai by affiliates of Al-Qaeda has also relegated any ‘perceived’ threat from Sikh militants. There is thus a new bogeyman in town, Sikh militancy fading into relative insignificance.

It is ironic that one of Mr. Singh’s predecessors, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi‘s was bent on vilifying the Sikhs with every speech in the 1984 election. Needless to say, during this administration Bollywood producers may have been reticent to propagate the ‘Sikh image’ as a positive one for millions of ardent cinemagoers. 

I am sceptical about the recent propagation of Sikh identity in Bollywood and suggest it is driven in main by the political climate. Others take a slightly different stance.

 The Shiromani Gurdwara Parbhandak Committee (SGPC) an apex Sikh body is happy with the portrayal even though some of the films have run into some controversy within the community. The film “Jo Bole So Nihal” (2005) was deemed offensive by many Sikhs and was withdrawn from virtually all cinemas in Panjab as well as some cinemas in other Indian cities further to protests.

The president of the SGPC has recently gone on record to say.

"Sikhs have earned name and fame all across the world in almost all the fields like sports, politics, cinema and business. It is all due to their enterprising nature, right attitude, hard work and honesty.

"Bollywood is just trying to cash on the image of a complete Sikh with beard and turban on his head. They are doing it to earn professional gains but we are happy. Now we want them to use real Sikh characters on the screen, someone who actually sports a turban and beard."

There is merit in the observation about using real Sikhs for such roles. However, we will have to wait and see if Bollywood takes heed of the SGPC’s suggestion.  At present many of the film plots seem to just scratch the surface of Sikh psyche, more importance is attributed to iridescent costumes along with extravagant dance routines performed to synchronised perfection.  The qualities of the practitioner of the faith are largely marginalised at the expense of all the razzamatazz and subplot of the romantic shenanigans of a turbaned Casanova.  It’s just all too predictable & cliché.

 Over in Hollywood the film “Inside man” (2006) included a Sikh character, playing a bank employee with a full flowing beard and turban. There is a hostage scene in the film where the character played by Waris Alhuwalia is released by the hostage takers, along with a box tied around him. The NYPD think it’s “an Arab with a bomb” and in haste they frisk him and rip his turban off. In response the character shouts back at the NYPD “give me my turban, it is who I am, I am not an Arab, I am a Sikh”.   This scene was quite upsetting for those who sympathise with the characters mistaken identity. Hollywood to its credit has at least attempted to tackle the harsh realities faced by Sikhs since 9/11 in the West.

Any positive representation in film is a welcomed milestone, especially if viewed outside of India where the Sikh identity may be unfamiliar, often confused with the Ayatollahs or Mr. Bin Laden himself. At least for now Sikhs are on the Bollywood ‘Merry go round’. There is no doubt that the intricacies of plots in new films, especially when tackling taboo subjects, will inevitably lead to dismay from religious authorities– if perceived as negative portrayal.

Here in Britain, as a license fee payer, I am still eagerly awaiting for the Sikh extra in Eastenders to break his silence in the square.

Hardeep Singh, is a freelance Journalist & Broadcaster, he is also the Press Secretary for The Network of Sikh Organisations

Note: these are the opinion of the author and not the opinion of the Network of Sikh Organisations.

With the deployment of two turbaned guards at Buckingham Palace this week, Britain’s Sikh community had cause to feel a little more appreciated than they have been over the years. To say the honour was a little late - more than 150 years after their troops came to the rescue of besieged British officers in the Indian mutiny, more than 60 after thousands of Sikhs gave their lives in Europe to save Britain from Hitler’s Germany - would be an understatement.

But any sense of satisfaction that a neglected community had finally been given the recognition it had been denied for so long was quickly replaced by a deep sense of shame at the treatment meted out to a party of Sikhs whose coach caught fire on Tuesday. They were returning to their homes in Luton from a day out at the seaside when their double-decker bus burst into flames. They managed to get out with the help of an off-duty policeman seconds before it exploded and melted. As they stood terrified on the hard-shoulder, passing motorists not only failed to stop and help, but actually slowed down to hurl racist abuse at the victims. Several gave them the finger and shouted at them to bet back into the blazing coach.

I grew up with racism. I remember being shocked the first time I saw a West Indian boy at the end of my Nan’s garden in Stoke Newington. It was the late 1960s, I was around five, and had been drawn by the mesmerising sound of steel drums one Sunday morning. I could not believe my eyes, I stared, and was clocked in the head for my rudeness.

I remember helping the milkman deliver free milk to Bangladeshi immigrants in Stepney two or three years later as he complained about ‘these F***ing Pakis, always paying with ‘tokens,’ the last word said in a bad Indian accent and with a wobble of his head. In my own family, my parents were always polite and friendly to all, but when my Dad, then a London bus driver, brought home his West Indian conductor for tea in the late 1960s, my Mum feared what our docker neighbours in Poplar, east London, might think.

I remember when we were later slum-cleared to an estate in Essex, how our neighbours, who’d by then bought their council homes, had threatened another because he had sold his to a ‘wog.’ Then, despite being part of an exodus from slum housing, many used to say they were ‘getting away from the blacks’ who’d moved into London’s poorer areas in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Theirs was the racism of ignorance and fear: poor people who felt their way of life was threatened by the smell of unfamiliar food, the sudden gaudiness of painted houses in our grey world, and newcomers they feared would take their jobs by working for less.

It took around 30 years for racism to become something widely regarded as shameful in Britain. I think the Daily Mail’s campaign for justice for Stephen Lawrence, the young black teenager murdered by fascist thugs in south-east London, was a landmark. My Mum was later mortified at how she had reacted to my Dad’s friend several decades earlier. Once-‘smelly’ Chicken Tikka Masala later replaced fish and chips or roast beef as our national dish, and today we’re all in love with Bollywood.

I don’t believe my racist neighbours of the 1970s would have passed by a coach party of terrified Sikhs without offering to help. For all their ignorance, they valued their own sense of themselves as being ‘decent people.’ I wonder how these motorway racists think of themselves? Here in Delhi today, the story of my ‘fellow’ countrymen’s treatment of these terrified Sikhs is all over the Indian newspapers, and I’m conscious that our hosts will regard me as somehow connected to these barbarians. As the Sikhs prepare to honour the off-duty policeman who did go to their rescue, I feel ashamed to be British.

http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/deannelson/100005641/our-shameful-treatment-of-britains-sikh-saviours/