Komal JB Singh: “The Sikh presence in Kashmir has a long history”

The very title of the book, Invisible Minority, stems from the complete absence of academic and scholarly engagement with the Sikh community in Kashmir. Whether this absence is deliberate or accidental is something I continue to ponder. It highlights a larger issue in Kashmir, the choice of which communities are studied and history is documented. The lack of substantial work can be partly attributed to the fact that there were no scholars from the community documenting their own history, a significant gap that, unfortunately, had to be filled by someone from within. In my case, it took a woman from the community to take on this task, which, in itself, was not easy.

My book aims to address these questions: how patterns of silence, neglect, and absence of recognition have shaped the scholarly engagement of Sikhs in Kashmir. Their histories, identities, and memories are overshadowed by grand narratives; they rarely figure in the construction of Kashmir’s broader narrative.

You come from a small town in Baramulla and are the first in your family to enter academia. What motivated you to explore the history of Sikhs in Kashmir, and what were the most important insights from your years of field research?

Growing up in a small town that is historically significant, I was not aware of my identity and history as a Sikh. However, it was only after I moved out of the Valley for educational purposes that I realised that there is a complete absence of the Kashmiri Sikh identity in mainstream discourse. I began encountering questions like, “Who are you?” When I replied that I was a Sikh from Kashmir, people were often shocked. These personal experiences motivated me to explore my roots, and I discovered that very little had been written about us. What did exist was scattered, often in vernacular languages, and even many people in Delhi were unaware that Sikhs lived in Kashmir. This made the project deeply personal, even though it became an academic endeavour.

Conducting ethnographic research was very interesting because this was the only way I could document the history, which largely remains unwritten. The fieldwork offered important insights, reflected across chapters that span different historical eras. In Chapter One, I trace the Sikh presence in Kashmir from the time of the Gurus to the 1930s, highlighting leaders like Sardar Budh Singh Tyagi — who resigned from his post as one of the top civil servant in protest for the rights of the people of J&K, became President of Dogra Sabha three times and President of the National Conference twice. This book goes into archival accounts and includes several of his speeches and that of other leaders. I also show how Sikhs, inspired by the Akali movement, reclaimed Gurdwaras previously controlled by a few families, bringing recognition to overlooked figures such as Akali Kaur Singh Nihang, Jathedar Kapoor Singh, and Kaniya Singh. Chapter Two discusses 1947, when Sikh killings and resistance slowed the tribal advance on Srinagar airport. Other chapters address the 1984 attacks on Sikhs in Jammu and the events of 2000, including Chittisinghpora, explored through interviews. Rather than focusing on a single event, the book traces how Sikhs have asserted their identity at key historical moments. Many people I interviewed were Partition survivors who had never been asked about their experiences. Despite the pain and alienation, there was also a profound love for Kashmir and a deep connection to the land that persisted across generations.

You write that, although Sikhs make up less than one percent of Kashmir’s population, they are the largest minority and vital to understanding the region. Please elaborate.

Today, Sikhs are the only religious minority living in Kashmir, which makes them central to discussions on secularism and the idea of Kashmiriyat, particularly after the communal fabric of the Valley was deeply affected by the Hindu exodus in 1989. Studying how this community has negotiated and navigated periods of extreme violence while choosing to remain in the Valley provides critical insights into challenges, issues and resilience. Their experiences offer a lens to understand many nuances of Kashmiri society that are often missing in current research.

For instance, Kashmiri identity is often framed around the Hindu-Muslim binary and the assumption that a Kashmiri must speak Kashmiri. My study of Kashmiri Sikhs opens up a perspective beyond this hegemonic boundary, bringing a third community into view. Can a Kashmiri be Sikh? Often the answer is assumed to be no. Yet, Kashmiri Sikhs, despite knowing Kashmiri, speak Pahari at home. This also raises the question of how Pahari-speaking communities within the Valley fit into the broader understanding of Kashmiri identity. It highlights a more inclusive vision of Kashmiri identity. Even many Muslims in border areas of Kashmir, like Uri, Kupwara, and other places, speak Pahari — a reality that is rarely acknowledged. This work brings these important trajectories to light.

How has the Sikh identity evolved in Kashmir over the decades?

The Sikh presence in Kashmir has a long and layered history, dating back to the earliest Sikh Gurus. Traces of their presence can be seen from Guru Nanak’s visit, commemorated at Gurudwara Mattan Sahib in South Kashmir’s Anantnag district. Following him, Guru Hargobind and other Sikh missionaries periodically visited Kashmir, and some sources indicate that local ethnic communities were converted to Sikhism during this period. Later, during the 17th century, sources say that Sikhs came to Kashmir in the service of Raja Sukhjiwan, who was sent as Governor of Kashmir by Timur Shah of Kabul in 1775 AD. Another significant phase came during the 27-year rule of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, when many Punjabi Sikhs migrated to and settled in Kashmir. Later movements like the Singh Sabha and the Akali movement of 1920s, which I touch upon briefly in the first chapter, further shaped the Sikh identity in the Valley. In later chapters, I have documented in detail the various targeted killings of Sikhs, including the 2000 Chittisinghpora massacre, post-1989 attacks, the Mehjnoor Nagar massacre, and other incidents of violence against the community after 2000. Kashmiri Sikh identity has been shaped around the memory of violence, which continues to constitute their collective identity today.

You emphasise that while many Kashmiri Pandits left the Valley in the early 1990s, Sikhs, despite facing similar threats, decided to stay back. What were the factors that influenced their decision?

Kashmiri Pandits never left by choice; their departure was an exodus driven by fear and threat. Understanding why Kashmiri Sikhs chose to stay was, therefore, crucial for me as a researcher. It became clear that there is no single reason for their continued presence, but rather a combination of factors. My work highlights the deliberations within the Sikh community, especially around 1989, when many were considering migration. Despite facing violence of targeted killings in Kashmir in which many Kashmiri Sikhs were also killed, they stayed. My book contextualizes the 1980s for Sikhs, highlighting the anti-Sikh violence during that period. In Jammu, the 1984 Talwara killings claimed 16 Sikh lives, while in Kashmir, a few Sikhs were killed in police firing during protests against Operation Blue Star. Later, a Sikh religious procession (Nagar Kirtan) in 1989 was attacked in Jammu, resulting in further casualties. All these circumstances played an important role for the community largely choosing to remain in Kashmir. The community knew the risks, yet felt a responsibility to stay in the Valley and maintain their roots and identity.

However, over time, different patterns of migration and resettlement emerged. The 2000 Chittisinghpora massacre of 35 Sikhs deepened the sense of uncertainty and vulnerability. Many since 1989 were already shifting from villages to towns for safety. After 2000, they began building second homes in Jammu as a precautionary strategy. Today, this dual existence between the Valley and Jammu creates family tensions, challenges in managing land and orchards, and a constant negotiation of identity and belonging. My book contextualizes this complex reality, showing that the community’s presence is not simple or static.

You mention that despite a longstanding history of suffering, the religious principle of Chardi Kala — remaining in high spirits — prevents Sikhs from adopting a sense of victimhood. Please elaborate on how this concept has shaped the community’s outlook.

Yes, because when I was trying to understand how the community could live with so much trauma, so much lack of recognition in history, not being part of any discourse, not even being talked about, and still survive and hold their position in a positive way, it became very evident, through my interviews, that the fundamental Sikh principle of Chardi Kala —remaining in high spirits — plays a key role. Even when facing hardships, they remain optimistic and resilient.

In Kashmir, many communities openly speak about their issues and their victimhood. Sikhs, however, choose not to say anything, not to ask for anything. Slowly and steadily, they build their lives without recognition. This is a very important part of the Sikh psyche in the Valley, where the Sikhi spirit defines their way of life.

Imagine Chittisinghpora, where such a tragedy happened, and people still go to the Gurudwara every day. They see the bullet marks on the walls, yet continue their routines and lives. As a researcher, I also question whether this spirit imposes a kind of silence on them which sometimes contributes to their marginalization, since they are not voicing their struggles.

How do the memories of trauma and violence, when institutional justice has been neglected, continue to deepen the sense of alienation within the Sikh community in Kashmir?

The trauma for a Kashmiri Sikh begins with the 1947 tribal invasion, when a large number of Sikhs from North Kashmir suffered immensely. In my own family, my grandparents experienced this firsthand. This trauma continued with decades of targeted killings, violence, and attacks, from Chittisinghpura, Mehjnoor Nagar and Posh Kiri killings to the recent killing of Supinder Kaur, a school principal in Srinagar in 2021. It is a cycle of violence that has repeatedly impacted the community, creating a continuing sense of marginalization and fear.

In Baramulla, figures like Maqbool Sherwani are rightly praised for their role in 1947, but hundreds of local Sikhs who died resisting the tribals, often with minimal weapons, are absent from public memory. This lack of recognition means that trauma doesn’t remain confined to the survivors; it becomes intergenerational, affecting subsequent generations. In my own case, I feel that my great-grandparents, despite their important contributions to Kashmir’s history in 1947, never became part of the historical narrative, highlighting how the Sikh community’s sacrifices have often been overlooked.

While you highlight positive aspects of Sikh rule in Kashmir, European accounts often describe severe oppression of Kashmiri Muslims during the same period. How did you approach these conflicting archival accounts?

I have tried to bring out the critical historiography of Sikh rule. I have not only highlighted the positive aspects of Sikh rule in Kashmir but also examined the contrasting perspectives on how history has been written. Maharaja Ranjit Singh inherited a wrecked economy from the Afghans, and during their 27-year rule famines and droughts occurred, factors I believe have not been taken into proper consideration. There were indeed many reforms and constructive initiatives in this period, but they have often been ignored.

In terms of archival work, research is still limited, and many Persian manuscripts and local sources remain untranslated. European accounts continue to dominate the narrative emphasizing oppression which local writings have also noted, yet they rarely acknowledge the positive aspects recorded in other sources. My work tries to bring out the facts, rather than relying solely on European accounts, other works need to be taken into account.

I must clarify that this historical period was more of a reference point for my research rather than its core focus. I highlight the need for further research using untapped sources. In short, I aimed to move beyond linear histories.

What do you think about the future of Kashmiri Sikhs?

Historically, the Kashmiri Sikh community has relied on strong bonds and close-knit networks where gurdwaras have been central to maintaining community life. Despite facing historical hardships, the community has traditionally confronted challenges with courage. At the same time, Kashmiri Sikhs have a unique identity that can act as bridge between communities. They enhance the plural character of Kashmiri identity while simultaneously preserving their own distinct ethnic and Sikh heritage.

Today, the community faces new challenges. Lack of reservations and opportunities has prompted many young Sikhs to leave Kashmir, creating fears that the Kashmiri Sikh identity may diminish over the coming years. In these conditions, when the community is small and largely out of sight, civil society and political engagement can play a crucial role through better representation, protection of rights, support for young entrepreneurs, and possibly job reservations to ensure equitable opportunities.

Social media and online platforms offer a significant opportunity for the younger generation to engage with their history. The administration and government policies must also work to strengthen the presence of Kashmir’s last living religious minorities, which is not happening adequately at present.

Through this book, I aim to highlight critical issues affecting Sikh identity and existence in Kashmir. The community continues to preserve memory through oral histories in personal and communal spaces. For instance, even today, villages affected by the 1947 massacres hold remembrance events in October, and in Chittisinghpora, there is a three-day Akhand Path in March to honour those who have passed. These practices keep memory alive, but there is a need for greater support, documentation, and scholarly work to digitize and archive these histories. Independent efforts like mine are a start, but coordinated initiatives could help build comprehensive literature and recognition for this community.

Majid Maqbool is an independent journalist based in Kashmir.