Many members of Britain’s Indian community left their homeland to escape caste discrimination, but some say the problem still lingers

LONDON — In June 2009, at a protest rally in downtown London, 15-year-old Selina Dhanda proudly shows off a scar on her left arm that she received during a fight at the school she attends in a London suburb.

Dhanda is a member of the Ravidassi, a splinter group of the Sikh religion. She said fights like the one that left her with the 3-inch scar are common at her school, which Ravidassi and Sikh children both attend. “Last week a boy at my school from a different caste pushed me and called me a filthy untouchable,” she said, “so I knocked him out.”

The tension between the Ravidassi and Sikhs is one of the more complex religious conflicts facing England today. Many feel that a caste system, similar to the one that existed (and arguably still exists, according to many Indian nationals) in India, where both religions originated, has followed their faithful to Great Britain.

A tangled past

England claims the second largest Sikh population in the world, with more than 750,000 practicing members, as well as roughly 20,000 practicing Ravidassi. The Sikh religion started in the 15th century with the goal of ending the longstanding caste system within the Hindu religion. Over time, different interpretations of the Guru Granth Sahib, the holy book of the Sikh religion, as well as continuation of the Indian caste system, caused a small group of lower-caste Sikhs to break away from Sikhism and form a separate but similar faith called Ravidassi.

Today, tensions run high between the two groups.

In May 2009 the Ravidassi spiritual leader, 57-year-old Guru Sant Sri Ramanand, was murdered at a Sikh temple in Austria. Police suspect Sikh extremists were behind the attack.

The murder of Guru Ramanand sparked outrage throughout Europe. In early June more than 4,000 Ravidassi marched in London to protest the violence. The murder has breathed new life into a centuries-old conflict and raised questions about the caste system in Great Britain.

At the London rally, Ravidassi protestors wore shirts commemorating the martyred guru. Conflicting signs read “Hang the Murderers” and “We Condemn Extremism/Terrorism.” Chants to end the caste system filled Piccadilly Circus as the four-city-block procession weaved through downtown London to the Indian consulate.

Mild spats of violence arose. Several Sikh men with provocative signs taped to their backs, saying things like “Please respect our Guru,” prompted Ravidassi protest leader Rajinder Kaur to leap the police barricade, megaphone in hand, and engage the Sikhs. London bobbies had to forcefully stop him.

When asked how he knew the men were Sikhs, Kaur said, “I could see the hate in their eyes.”

Kaur said the hate stems from the financial success of the Ravidassi in recent years and the Sikhs’ desire to keep them as second-class citizens in England. “We’re becoming educated and rising in society, and they hate us for that.”

Discrimination or religious differences?

What appears to Western observers to be infighting among members of different groups within Sikhism is actually a confusing tangle that involves both caste discrimination and sectarianism. Although Ravidassi have historically considered themselves Sikhs, members of the Sikh community shun them. Ravidassi leaders claim it’s an example of ethnic discrimination, but orthodox Sikhs trace the conflict to religious differences.

Sukpreet Singh, a practicing Sikh who lectures at Bournemouth University, said the tension between Sikhs and Ravidassi stems from religious differences, not caste discrimination. The Ravidassi use of sacred Sikh scriptures, he said, offends members of the Sikh community, who believe those scriptures are theirs — and theirs alone. “Sikhs are irritated that they’re using the holy book.”

According to Singh, Ravidassi are using caste discrimination as a rallying cry to gain sympathy from the Indian government, which has outlawed caste discrimination and begun using affirmative action to force employers to hire people from lower castes. Cries of discrimination also catch the attention of Western media and human rights groups, he said. “Caste is a big issue in India. Caste gets votes, and caste gets jobs.”

Singh added that while he and most Sikhs condemn the violence in Austria, militants are willing to use violent means to intimidate other sects. “It’s quite possible that Sikhs did this,” he said. “There are always extremists in any religion.”

The Ravidassi community, represented in Britain by the advocacy group Guru Ravidas Sabha UK, and members of the British lobby Castewatch UK tell a different story. Piraph Bali, president of the London branch of Guru Ravidas Sabha UK, acknowledged that Sikhs and Ravidassi have a few religious differences, but he said the driving force of the conflict is caste discrimination.

“We do the same things in our temples that they do in their temples,” Bali said. “Our guru’s words are in their holy book, [but] they always tell us that we’re the downtrodden, that we can’t mingle with them.”

Castewatch UK is dedicated to trying to heal the rifts between British Indians of different castes. General Secretary Davinder Prasad accused the Sikh community of intentionally downplaying the issue of caste, which he said is the main cause of the tension.

“People are quite happy to practice casteism,” Davinder said. “But if you talk to the perpetrators of the discrimination, you’ll find they’re completely in denial. They’ll say, ‘We don’t believe in a caste system.’”

Moving forward

Castewatch and several affiliates of Guru Ravidas Sabha UK are pressuring members of the British Parliament (MPs) to include caste discrimination in the Equality Bill. An attempt to unify decades of anti-discrimination laws passed in the UK, this bill would outlaw discrimination in the workplace and public sector based on factors such as race, nationality, sex and religion. In July 2009 the bill was still making its way through the House of Commons, the lower house of the British Parliament.

Rob Marris, a Labour Party MP who is trying to amend the bill to include caste discrimination, said other MPs are hesitant to pass the amendment because it would have serious legal implications for most employers, including affirmative action requirements and the potential for lawsuits. Marris acknowledged that it will be difficult to pass the bill.

“The government says that there is no evidence of casteism in the UK, so it will not legislate unnecessarily,” Marris wrote in an e-mail. “This is clearly nonsense, although to be fair the evidence is anecdotal — as it often is with discrimination.”

Prasad said Castewatch feels the most important thing to come out of this amendment would be a legal foundation for claims that caste discrimination is wrong. People are less likely to consider caste discrimination a form of acceptable behavior in private life, he said, if it’s illegal in public life.

“Any law describes unacceptable and acceptable behaviors in society,” Prasad said. “Legislation will be the beginning. Then this [attitude] will filter down to different levels of society.”

Some second-generation Ravidassi like London accountant Asha Chumber, who grew up accustomed to the Western democracy of the UK, are baffled by their community’s insistence on dividing themselves by caste and sect. Chumber was seriously considering marriage with a UK-born Sikh man of a higher caste, but she had to break off the engagement because his family wouldn’t accept their relationship.

“Such attitudes shouldn’t be accepted by the Indian community in the UK,” she said, “especially when their homeland is trying so hard to eradicate caste inequalities. We speak the same language. We’re in the same country. What’s the big deal?

“India has moved on, so why can’t we?”

Mistaken Identity—Ravisdassi and Sikhs

By Daryl Bjoraas

Ravidassi and Sikhs: A history of conflict

By Derek Quizon

The May 2009 murder of Ravidassi leader Guru Sant Sri Ramanand by Sikh extremists sparked the latest Sikh-Ravidassi conflict and threw the Ravidassi community into an identity crisis it may never recover from, according to anti-caste activists. Though the Ravidassi have historically considered themselves a sect of the Sikh religion, years of being excluded from worshipping at Sikh temples has left many members questioning whether they truly belong to the Sikh faith.

“We’ve never been part of the Sikh community,” said Piraph Bali, president of the London branch of Guru Ravidas Sabha UK, a Ravidassi support community. “We are Ravidassi.”

Orthodox Sikhs are quick to corroborate Bali’s view of the Ravidassi faith as a separate entity from Sikhism. “The Ravidassi community is not a Sikh community,” said Sukhpreet Singh, a practicing Sikh and lecturer at Bournemouth University. “The Ravidassi community is a Hindu community that also follows the [Sikh holy scriptures].”

History — and some members of the Ravidassi community — say otherwise.

The Ravidassi faith has its roots in Sikhism, a monotheistic faith founded in the 15^th century by Guru Nanak. He envisioned a society without the religious or caste differences that had divided India for thousands of years. The ten holy gurus who came after Nanak compiled the Sikh scriptures, known collectively as the Guru Granth Sahib. When the scriptures were completed in the 18th century, Guru Gobind Singh declared that there would be no more living gurus. Instead, the holy scriptures would serve as the final authority for Sikhs on matters of morality.

This is where the Ravidassi and Sikhs disagree. Among the teachers and prophets featured in the Guru Granth Sahib was a 15^th-century, low-caste shoemaker named Bhagat Ravidas, who spoke out against caste divisions. Ravidassi, made up mostly of people from the low-ranking Chamar caste, have elevated Ravidas to the status of chief guru. Sikhs follow Ravidas’ teachings, but they don’t consider him one of their ten holy gurus.

Because Ravidas’ teachings are featured in the Guru Granth Sahib, members of the Ravidassi community also use it as their scriptures. Sikhs, who consider the scriptures sacred, take offense to this, as they don’t consider Ravidassi to be true Sikhs. They also object to the Ravidassi principle of a living guru, as Sikhs believe the holy scriptures are the final authority in religious and spiritual matters.

Caste divisions come into play as well because most Ravidassi are of a lower caste than Sikhs. Despite the fact that the Sikh faith doesn’t officially believe in a caste system, proponents of both sides say there are still divisions. Singh said orthodox Sikhs are more accepting of lower castes, but they draw the line when it comes to marriage. “That’s when Sikhs get hoity-toity,” he said.

Members of the Ravidassi faith and the human rights lobby Castewatch UK claim that caste still plays a significant role in the Sikh community. “Many holy people have come, and they have tried to rule out the caste system from society,” said Castewatch General Secretary Davinder Prasad. “[But] caste is in the DNA of Indian culture.”

Jas Singh, a practicing Ravidassi who considers himself Sikh, said members of the Sikh community choose to associate mainly with people from the same caste. “Everyone is aware of everyone else’s caste,” Singh said. “[It determines] who people socialize with and who they marry.”

Whatever the reason for the conflict, it has caused the Ravidassi community to question whether it even has a place in the Sikh community. Ravidassi have historically considered themselves Sikh, but years of rejection have left them bitter. Sources within the Ravidassi community gave conflicting answers as to whether they are Sikhs.

“Some of us recognize ourselves as Sikh people, and some of us recognize ourselves as Hindus, so we’re a bit confused,” said Asha Chumber, a London accountant and practicing Ravidassi. “But the rest of the Sikh community doesn’t accept us. They don’t think we’re proper Sikhs.”

Prasad said the murder of Guru Ramanand has forced many in the Ravidassi community to question whether there is a place for them in the Sikh community. Because Sikhs and Ravidassi share the same holy scriptures and many of the same religious tenets, many Ravidassi considered themselves Sikh, he said, until the latest round of violent confrontations.

“Before this happened, they were all proud to call themselves Sikhs,” Prasad said. “But suddenly this incident has brought them to a crossroads.”

Sikh House of Worship

By Daryl Bjoraas

Earlier this week we went to a Sikh temple, also known as a Gurdwara. While there, we enjoyed the singing of the hymns from the holy book—something called Kirtan. Other than being inspired by hearing it, the passion in the eyes of the musicians really made me want to capture it on film. Hence, one of my stories is a photo essay on Kirtan and the music of the Sikh religion.

Also, while at the Kirtan, we were guided to the Langer hall, where they served us d-e-l-i-c-i-o-u-s food. Let me just say curry, lentil soup and hands-down-the-best-tea-I’ve-ever-had make Lauren a happy camper.

Snaps to the people at the Gurdwara for their graciousness and patience with us taking endless photos and video while we were there. Snaps to the Kirtan players for vocalizing their connections to God. And snaps to the chefs in the kitchen for making some truly excellent food.

Click here for Elle Walls’ print story.

BY ALEXANDRA FLAMINI 

Southall reminded me of Belfast. A layer of grime seemed to have descended over the London suburb. A gray train station met gray damp streets that met gray buildings under a hazy gray sky. Home to the largest Sikh community outside India, Southall had earned the nickname Little India.

The people looked tired and subdued. Shop owners silently watched as people walked by. The older members of the community cast their eyes upon us, skeptical of the 11 pale American students as we walked down the street with cameras and notepads in hand.

The elder men had beards and wore turbans. The young men didn’t appear as orthodox as the older generations. Beardless and youthful in their dress, they wore sandals and sweatpants rather than turbans. The women were draped in colorful Indian fabrics with gold trimmings. Their long, dark brown hair was often braided down their backs. Some women covered their heads with scarves that complemented their bright saris.

The Gurdwara, or Sikh temple, poked above the low buildings, its golden domed glistening through the haze. Opened in 2003, it is the largest Gurdwara outside India. Its outside is made of smooth tan stone. Inside are beamed ceilings, carved wooden doorways and Indian-inspired accents.

Across the street from the Gurdwara, a faded pink sign on a blue plywood gate read “One Church, One Lord. Jesus Christ. Worship Him Here.” This is what I’d expected to see in England, an Anglican country. It was a reminder of what Christianity used to mean to a country whose religious geography is changing.

The Sikh community welcomes visitors of any religion who are willing to cover their head and remove their shoes. Men and women split to their respective shoe storage areas—two rooms filled with cubbyholes.

Women covered their heads with a scarf. Mine was as sooty gray as the city. Nonetheless, I felt that I stood out among the orange-colored men’s turbans. I couldn’t tell if I looked more ’50s Audrey Hepburn on the back of a Vespa scooter or more like a Middle Eastern woman staring out of a photo in The New York Times.

As my classmates and I walked to the sinks to wash our hands before entering the sanctuary, it hit me—the pungent smell of feet. Yes, feet do smell, but we were in a public space, and the smell was socially OK. I experienced a bit of culture shock until the thick, putrid smell that hung in my nose started to dissipate.

We climbed the stairs to the Darbar Sahib—the vast, echoing prayer hall with a domed ceiling. Long rectangles of white muslin covered the floor. An indigo-colored carpet led to a large canopy sheltering the Sikh holy text, or Guru Granth Sahib. It lay on a raised platform, or manji sahib. The canopy, gold and blue and rose, stood in front of a modern stained-glass window— a symbol of respect to the scriptures.

Beneath the canopy, a frail old woman waved a giant white-feather fan. In days gone by, the fan had kept flies away from the holy text as Sikhs prayed. Today, anyone can volunteer for this job.

Practicing Sikhs approached their Holy Scriptures, deposited an offering in a shiny metal trough called a golak, kneeled and bowed, touching head to floor. They then sat cross-legged on the white muslin. Men and women are supposed to sit on different sides of the prayer hall, but some still worship together.

Meanwhile, three men played music and chanted from the holy book. The music floated throughout the temple, amplified by speakers.

As my classmates and I left the Daba Sahib, two women offered us a sweet, doughy ball called karah parshad. The Sikh form of Holy Communion, karah parshad is an important part of Sikh hospitality. We cupped our hands to receive it and then made sure we ate it all. To refuse to take it or throw any away would be disrespectful.

Back in the lobby, we went to the dining hall, called a Pangat. Large Sikh temples prepare and serve free vegetarian meals up to 24 hours a day. The smallest of temples may serve meals only a few times a week. Because the food contains no meat, everyone can eat it.

Pangats embrace the idea of equality by welcoming people of any religion, ethnicity, caste, gender or age. Volunteers prepare and serve the food. Sikhs regard volunteerism, or seva, as a religious duty.

We grabbed metallic silver trays and a spoon and walked up to the cafeteria-style counter. Three male volunteers with ladles were stationed there. None spoke English.

I found the men hard to communicate with. Even when I pointed to what I wanted to eat, I felt as though they didn’t understand. I started to worry that pointing was rude in Sikh culture. I stopped and let them serve me the different dishes. Language barriers are difficult. I felt rude and wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t.

I sampled a little bit of everything—a soupy lentil dish, thick yellow curry, half an apple and a piece of flatbread. A bowl of chili peppers soaking in chili oil was set out to spice the dishes, although the curry was quite hot. Mugs of water and citrus soda marked the end of the line.

Mug and tray in hand, I sat on a rug on the floor. Not expecting much out of a free meal, I ate some of the best Indian food I’ve ever tasted. The curry was fragrant and peppery, balanced by the milder lentils. I mopped up with the flatbread and finished with the juicy apple.

Such a welcoming religious community was very foreign to me, coming from a Catholic background. Catholics don’t offer Holy Communion to non-Catholics. The priest often scolds parishioners for not being Catholic enough. It takes a long time to become officially Catholic, including weekly religion classes and various rites of passage. In the Sikh community, if you wake up and want to practice Sikhism, you are welcomed on day one.

Walking into the Sikh Gurdwara was like walking into another world, one I didn’t know existed. I was deeply moved by this welcoming religious community. Religion has always seemed a reason to fight or a way to divide people who are alike in other ways. To witness a religion rooted in equality for all gives me faith that other religions may become more open and welcoming to everyone, not just to those who believe the same. The Sikh religion inspired me to hope for a day when peace, not conflict, is rooted in religion.

BY JAMES KING

On Saturday, two of my fellow Cronkite-Europers and I spent more than two hours walking around London’s Hyde Park in search of a protest rally that we had heard about on the Web site Castewatch.com. The site claimed that thousands of Ravidasi Sikhs would be protesting the murder of one of their gurus about a month ago.

We got to the park about 12:30 p.m. and walked around with the assumption that despite the size of the park, there was no way we could possible miss thousands of Sikhs protesting.

After about an hour, the closest thing we had seen to a Sikh protest was a guy in a turban walking with his family. I was livid. This was our first free day in London, and I wanted to go check out Big Ben, Abbey Road, etc. However, my pal Derek had heard about this march, and I didn’t want to miss it.

We continued walking aimlessly through the enormous park, asking cops, people, even dogs if they had seen anything that might resemble what we were looking for. Nobody had a clue what we were talking about (except for one dog, which I suspect may have known, but only spoke French).

After two-and-a-half hours, we threw up our hands in defeat and headed to the bus to go back to our flats. I decided that I needed a drink and went into a grocery store while we were waiting.

Once inside, it occurred to me that I could use some real groceries and grabbed milk, vegetables, meat and just about anything else anyone would purchase and then want to get into a refrigerator as quickly as possible.

As I proceeded to check out and pay for the collection of spoilable food, Derek came running into the store. ”It’s here. They’re right outside. There are tons of them,” Derek said as the cashier handed back my credit card and receipt for the food I’d just bought.

Did I mention that it was the hottest day London had seen the whole time we were there?

We rushed outside, and to my amazement, several thousand Sikhs had filled the streets in the five minutes that I was in the grocery store.

What about the milk, meat and vegetables, you ask?

I threw them in my backpack and went to work. Luckily the path of this protest march was about a two-hour walk through downtown London. I guess the protestors were trying to get their point across and weren’t concerned with my rotting meal plan.

We took some great photos, watched the London police “restrain” some protestors of the protest and got a terrific story out of it.

As for my milk, it spent roughly three hours in a hot backpack. I drank it anyway.

I am officially finished with the Cronkite Euro stories! I have been extremely busy since we have been home, and it has been hard to get back in the swing of things. I have had to tell people stories from the trip, show them pictures and answer the same questions over and over again, such as: What was your favorite city? (Paris) Did you have an amazing time? (YES!) Do you want to go back? (Yes!)

I would love to go back to all of the cities we visited, but I know the experience will never be the same. The religions and cultures we encountered were because of the Cronkite School. If I hadn’t reported on abortion in Ireland, I wouldn’t have realized the influence the Catholic Church has on the media. And if I hand’t reported on the Sikh Langar outside London, I wouldn’t have understood the volunteer aspect of their religion.

The sightseeing was great, but this trip offered so many unique opportunities.

LONDON — Inside the Langar, a free community kitchen at a Sikh temple in a London suburb, three men wearing colorful turbans cluster around a giant pot. They’re preparing kara parshad, a cookie-dough-like pudding offered as a blessing from their God. Four other Sikh men are serving food at the counter in front of the kitchen.

Guests form a line in front of these men to receive a traditional Sikh meal. There are no tables or chairs, just rows of rugs where the diners sit on the floor to eat. A woman with a light blue scarf covering her hair washes dishes at the opposite end of the Langar.

None of these men or women is paid.

Throughout the day, volunteers of all ages come to the Gurdwara Sri Guru Singh Sabha, the largest Sikh temple outside India. Seva, or selfless service, is an important element of their religion. “The best way [to worship God] is to do some act—an act of kindness, an act of looking after your family, an act of charity,” says Sukhpreet Singh, a practicing Sikh and lecturer at Bournemouth University.

Sikhism was founded in the 15th century, making it the world’s youngest monotheistic religion. More than 20 million around the globe practice Sikhism. It started as a reaction against Hinduism and the divisions it created between its followers, such as castes. The new religion emphasized justice, equality and fellowship.

Sikhism is built on the teachings of ten gurus, beginning with Guru Nanak. The tenth, Guru Gobind Singh, decided that his successor wouldn’t be a human but rather the Sikh’s sacred text. The 1,430-page Guru Granth Sahib includes lessons from each guru as well as people of other faiths.

One of the lessons is Guru Nanak’s three pillars of Sikhism—Naam Japo, or remembering God; Wand kay Shako, or sharing one’s wealth with those in need; and Kira Kami, or working hard and living an honest life. “Community service is the second part of Sikhism,” says Balbir Singh, a volunteer at Sri Guru Singh Sabha Southall Gurdwara. “It’s part of the exercise; it’s a spiritual exercise.”

Some volunteers work three or four hours every day in the Gurdwara. “We start early in the morning at 5 o’clock and go until 10 p.m. close,” says volunteer Harjit Singh, who cooks and serves food in the Langar.

Volunteers give back to the community by cooking, cleaning, washing dishes, passing out Parshad, and singing and playing music. “Someone told me that washing dishes actually cleanses your conscious,” Sukhpreet says.

Even though the Southall Gurdwara is a Sikh temple, all members of the community are welcome to worship, cook or eat here. “Anyone in the neighborhood who fancies coming to the Gurdwara and having a good time can come,” Suhkpreet says. “Volunteering can take very different aspects, very different faces.”

Click here for Megan Nelson’s visual representation of the story.