District map of the Region of Peel, west of Toronto, with East Brampton highlighted.
I’ve been spending a considerable amount of my time here in East Brampton, which, according to my friend Parminder, is 80% Punjabi-Sikh. This means custom front doors with Khandas and babas with long white beards and turbans, strolling on the sidewalks, chatting on the park bench, playing cards in tense silence.
Door with Khanda, a central image of Sikhism. The blades on either side represent the fight in defense of the faith, while the double-edged sword and ring in the center represent sacrifice and the timelessness of the Divine.
These are familiar sights.
A large contingent of my mom’s family lives in Northern California in Yuba City and Live Oak. I am half Punjabi and am bilingual by upbringing, and somehow I have retained my Punjabi over the years, enough to impress everyone I meet. “Punjabi boldaa thusee? Ohh, o gora lagtaa but puri Punjabi boldeeaa.” You speak Punjabi? Oh, he looks white but speaks full Punjabi. Or with younger Punjabis: “Bro, I’m hella tripping out. How does this dude speak such good Punjabi?” Babas and bibis have told me that I speak better Punjabi than their grandchildren, both anxious that their native tongue may die out in a matter of generations and relieved that this ahda (half) Punjabi knows their language so well.
Extended Sikh families tend to settle in one community, my own family being no exception. This means having the daunting task of memorizing which uncles and aunties get addressed which way, and how that tells your relation to them — massir and massi for your mom’s or grandmother’s brother-in-law and sister, mama and mami for your mom’s brother and sister-in-law, kaka, chachi, bhabhi, bhua, and so on. A kid’s parents, all their brothers and sisters will live in the same region. And then if you’re not related to someone, they’re pa-ji or auntie-ji or uncle-ji or mata-ji, and you treat them like family. When you visit them, you ring their doorbell, then they invite you in, and you sit on the sofa in the living room without the TV if they have a separate living room. Shoes always come off at the entrance (anyone who I invited to my apartment, shoes always come off at the entrance). You’ll meet with the man of the house or his son, then the mother will offer you chai and a snack. “Nay, nay, mai khaake aaya, mai kosh nay chaahidaa. Bas bas bas bas bas ji, bas.” No, I ate before coming here; I don’t need anything. Saying that only works about 25% of the time. The longer you stay at someone’s house, the more likely you are to have soda or juice or chai pushed on you. “Sirf do hor minute le baithe raaho!” Just sit for a couple more minutes! Children peer sheepishly in from another room, and the bolder ones, generally toddlers, will dance and shout right in the middle of your conversation. Rehende. Leave it. Let them make noise.
The same policy applies if you have visitors. Offer them something. They took the time to come to your house, so it’s your duty to make them feel welcome. And they’ll say no the first time, and you’ll give them something anyway. Such is the Punjabi way. There you’ll all be sitting, chai or sugary juice or soda in hand, several awkward pauses where you can tell that one of the uncle-jis is peering into your soul. Deep into your soul. Then gossip. If someone came late to so-and-so’s house, it’s because they had a meeting that started late, even though the meeting finished several hours ago and has no relevance to this visit. It’s just plain rude to say you were late for any reason that doesn’t sound legitimate.
Parents, children, grandparents. Entire generations, multiple generations of Punjabi families may live in one community. Families immigrate to their new Punjabi communities en masse, never forgetting their pind (village) or district. And maybe their pind isn’t directly Punjab; maybe they’re from the UK or Kenya or Australia or the US first, but it’s ultimately somewhere-via-Punjab. Such is the connection of the Sikh diaspora to its ancestral homeland.
Brampton is just like the other Punjabi communities I’ve been around, just considerably larger and more developed. There are several gurdwaras housed in large complexes and on the top floors of people’s houses, each founded on a mix of devotion to God and political disagreement. Punjabi culture and Sikhism have been integrated into the community’s education system through gurdwaras and Montessori schools, bhangra clubs, kabaddi clubs. And within this Punjab-in-Canada there is a thriving popular culture of up-and-coming politicians, DJ’s, hip-hop artists, YouTube celebrities, movie stars. And they all know each other, whether or not they support each other.
