I think every blog may as well start with 'during lockdown...' and I'm sure that opening statement 'during lockdown...' will be accompanied by a list of the different ways it has effected us. Last year, Vaisaikhi was more or less a home celebration. Reconnecting without actively being physically present to my family, friends or anyone was something I needed to adjust to as a part time introvert. Calling my family and we'd just chat would be something I'd do before. My Nan had passed away just before the the world started to close so keeping in contact to those closest to me was my priority.
Throughout 2020, after speaking up and going through my old poetry pieces, I kept thinking about the the fight of representation, how far I'd come and how this will probably be something that is a life-long fight. It's true when I've mentioned how my presence always seemed 'odd' to others. I wasn't the 'desi girl' nor would I have considered anything I do 'cool' or 'trendy'. It's probably due the the fact anytime I used to speak about who I was, it wasn't always a welcoming experience.
I talk about the times we'd have to 'fight' for space, having moments where I'd have to speak up for myself, there's probably more moments I can remember which felt encouraged my growth, I never thought documenting this would be so important. I wouldn't think my experiences could influence in a liberating way.
Sometimes, I'd be liberated in these moments, sometimes seeing someone be liberated was just as amazing. I remembered the times I'd been working and having to justify the need to take a day off for a cultural holiday seemed to have been ignored. It was worth it and I do believe that's what part of the fight is, to be recognised and have people understand that. I could go on but there were moments my parents would point out to me, so Mum sent me an article clipping she kept, we would cut out the moments that felt we were represented and she would keep them as reminders of our fight. The image is hard to see and from a newspaper clipping way, way back in the day. I hope this story will be shared from her again.
Picture of a picture she sent me during lockdown:
This month begins with Vasaikhi, the beautiful celebration of Spring, Vaisaikhi....or Baisakhi, I'm sure there's numerous ways to spell, I've only been taught the 'V' spelling, sometimes the way we pronounce will sound like a combination of 'Vah/Wah' or the B being almost silent. Anyway, this blog is less about pronunciation and considering there was such restrictions on celebrating, I thought about the first few times me and my family took the walk through East London to celebrate Vaisaikhi.
I did make a little video on my socials and upon uploading, only then did I start to think maybe it would have been easier to say google it. Then again, I'm giving myself permission to share what I can. Become an echo which creates the waves and encourage someone 'you are not alone' and you are welcome to celebrate if people have made you feel you need to conform - I'm sure this probably makes sense to those who felt they weren't fully accepted. The respectful weirdos as I'd like to call myself sometimes.
I would rather not start the debate of representation and why it matters. I just wait for everyone to catch up which is something I carry throughout, dropping nibbles here and there. There's always going to be a reminder instilled in me that education doesn't stop at the classroom, so my parents would exchange what they knew with us and vice versa. Sometimes you can hear it in your parents voice, the way they would bloom when we'd ask again and again. Today, I wanted to share one of my memories of walking through Vaisaikhi to the best of my ability,
I walk downstairs, it's probably 6am maybe earlier and we're getting ready for a day of walking alongside many who will celebrate with us. I'm always keen to show respect and understanding throughout my life, little me understood that too and continues to put a kind reminder of respect throughout everything because it's just what I do! I don't think I would have needed to explain that, considering the unfortunate judgement of the outside world who would probably see a group of us walking and feel panicked. That's just how ignorant people work I suppose.
Mum and Dad are ironing, cleaning and just getting us ready more or less. My Mum pulls out a yellow salwar kameez for me to wear, it's very bright and at a time when I was just wearing what could have been described at the time as 'tomboy attire', the brightest made me cringe a little as much as I wanted to wear it, I had felt uncomfortable at the way people had perceived us for being ourselves. My Mum makes a little joke which cheers me up that everyone's going to be wearing yellow, it's the best colour and the colour of Spring, she explains the celebration of Vaisakhi and it just makes me hype. I pull it on and feel like some sort of Princess. My brother and I are dusting off our backpacks because we would need water for the walk, we keep a few food bits in our bag for anyone whose walking with us just in case.
We arrive at Barking, as much as I can recall, seeing the people, our people all together is always an overwhelming feeling for us. It was almost like a sense of belonging even if I hardly knew anyone, even if where we were living was different areas. The times we went were when we lived in East, our closest Gurdwaras we based in Ilford, Barking, East Ham mainly. The walk we took would pass each Gurdwara and extend throughout the road which runs through Green Street, almost towards Stratford.
All I can remember from the first moment was the sea of yellow, many flags, many dhols and many blessings. I hold Mum's hand tight and Dad is leading us towards the walk. Passing through East Ham and I could just stretch my head enough to see a line of the Warrior-Saints and felt protected. I wanted to get a better look, I tried my best.
We passed Green Street and remembering the times I would walk around the markets. Just before lockdown, I took a short trip to find some pieces and refresh myself with the area. When I was growing up, I would see Green Street and towards the end, West Ham stadium. Just 'around the corner from that' was the Boleyn Cinema. My parents would take us to watch Bollywood films and it would be a rare occasion because the area seemed part welcoming and complex if that makes sense. In all honesty, the last film we'd see there was a Hindi-Indian biography movie (sorry, at this moment I can't think of what movies like this are called!) based on Shaheed Udham Singh in 1999, the revolutionary freedom-fighter whose story is a little difficult for me to retell without a few assuming he as the enemy. It was refreshing to have Gurdas Maan, and Jazzy B create the soundtrack. At the time, they had been creating wonderful music which I still listen to whenever I'm writing in fact, I felt the need to put the soundtrack on as I write.
There are so many hidden stories. In fact, during lockdown I'm sure I had seen a few posts I saved on Shaheed Udham Singh, the film was available to stream and I longed to save it for my partner to see. We'd come to read about the 1977 film Jallian Wala Bagh and thought perhaps that would be a better start as I hadn't known. Unfortunately coming back to it, I couldn't seem to find anyway nor the articles I had saved in the past about him. Maybe his story was too much, seeking to find a way to fight for justice but at the same time, I can see how this displays something many wouldn't encourage to do. What should be noted is without his history, we are only scratching the surface. I'm not sure, I just know that film meant a lot at the time.
I remember looking at my neighbourhood street from my window, not fully understanding why Shaheed had to meet his end the way he did. At the time I felt I was probably 'evil' for thinking that.
Perhaps the version we had seen might have come at a difficult time? Considering it wasn't easy to exist knowing how a headline had perceived you and your family, like I had mentioned only in passing because it still effects me. It's strange for anyone to believe there was a time when a Sikh man in a turban would be the enemy, maybe a poster or seeing men wearing turbans in the street was criticised before they were understood, just as O'Dwyer would have done - a misinformed, so-called 'star' who would feel threatened by peace. I'm not sure what to say about rewarding ignorance but I digress.
Maybe I stopped caring about what others would think of us when we walked during the Vaisaikhi celebrations, being present meant a lot.
Needless to say, there were so many people in our history which made me feel there were more hidden stories. The complicated questions I have surrounded God's and their gender remains irrelevant to someone like me, I think about a lot and how many hidden stories are out there. Most of their stories waiting in between a bookshelf.
Sometimes, it takes a little search
After would come the millennium year 2000 along with the announcement of the millennium dome. I remember New Year's 1999, we went to a little celebration party open to the public. It would be just across Cyprus Station in East London as far as I can recall. We walk there from our house. I remember they'd play some music and all of a sudden, the popular song which everyone knew came on so my Dad started dancing in the middle amongst the people of the area. Showing his pride he's doing our traditional moves which people start to join in with.
No, it wasn't a cabaret or anything like that, non of my acts are based on that, this just made little me feel seen in a world which questioned our existence.
I always say a movie couldn't always capture the nature of an honest story, obviously. It's more or less why I'm humble to pass on whatever I knew including the bustle of a large group of people together celebrating Vaisaikhi. It's upsetting for me to think that maybe there won't be a moment to come together in future. I feel like the most I could have done was a few art pieces, a short walk or just sending a message.
So I guess this is a very, very long message on how I celebrated this year, I just thought about the most important moments.
Solidarity in sewing - created last for the Farmers Protest.
Happy Vaisakhi to my friends and family.
.
A day to celebrate the wonders of Spring, to give back, to love and to honour the victims of Jallianwala Bagh and the birth of Khalsa. Today we feel the dhol beats buzz through the air, the sun marrying the clouds and share our culture to everyone. Love forever.
Commenti