Rachna Singh, Editor, The Wise Owl, talks with Roopinder Singh, an experienced journalist and accomplished author with a deep passion for Sikh history, religion, and heritage. Gurdwaras: Abodes of the Guru, his latest book, is a meticulously curated collection of 51 Sikh shrines in India and around the world. It explores the profound connections between social reality and spiritual consciousness that these Sikh institutions represent. With a career spanning several decades, he has contributed as a journalist, writer, and photographer. A graduate of St. Stephen’s College, University of Delhi, with a BA (Hons) and MA in Philosophy, he began his writing journey in school, crafting short stories that he initially shared within his family. His passion for storytelling led him to a career in journalism, where he worked for over 36 years. Roopinder served as a reporter-editor in New York and Chandigarh, and retired as Senior Associate Editor of The Tribune, Chandigarh, in 2020. Notably, he was on the editorial board for 20 years.

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Thank you, Roopinder, for talking with The Wise Owl about your book, Gurdwaras: Abodes of the Guru.

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Rachna: Congratulations on your latest magnum opus. Our readers would love to know what inspired you to undertake the ambitious task of documenting 51 gurdwaras from India and across the world, and what guiding principle determined your selection of these particular shrines?

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Roopinder: The inspiration for this volume is deeply rooted in my personal legacy and a lifelong affinity for these sacred spaces. I was blessed to have Sikh scholars as my parents—Giani Gurdit Singh and Prof Inderjit Kaur—and they ensured my brother and I received early exposure to Sikh values and practices. We marked 2023 as the year of their birth centenary, and this book is dedicated to them. Growing up, my father, a leader of the Singh Sabha Centenary Movement, preferred staying in gurdwaras during his travels because he could meet people freely there. He even spent days at a gurdwara when visiting me in New York City in the 1980s.

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While I had a natural curiosity and a sense of reverence, the book that became Gurdwaras: Abodes of the Guru came about following a discussion between Rajiv Daswani, my Manila-based publisher, and me. He wanted to create a unique book about Sikh sacred spaces. He sent me a beautiful book he had published on the Churches of the Philippines. My mother was with us at the time, and she encouraged me to take on the project, which I did in due time.

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Of course, the selection was very difficult. There are tens of thousands of gurdwaras all over the world. The gurdwaras featured in the book reflect history and heritage. The guiding principle was not to select the ‘chosen ones’, but rather to curate a collection that features gurdwaras that had a unique impact on their communities and represent the global spread of the Sikh diaspora. The gurdwaras featured in the book reflect history and heritage. Some are obvious historical choices; others represent milestones of Sikh displacement, both within the Indian subcontinent and outside it. We see each as a living monument of historical migration, localised community stories, and the heritage that they carry from the historical heartlands of Punjab to remote communities across five continents. The volume traces the memory, resilience, and growth of Sikh migration.

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Rachna: In the book, you describe gurdwaras not merely as places of worship but as institutions where spirituality and everyday life converge. How do you see the role of the gurdwara evolving in contemporary society, especially among younger generations and the Sikh diaspora?

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Roopinder: Gurdwaras, like all institutions, evolve with the needs of the sangat, but at the core remains the same—Guru Granth Sahib. Our Gurus taught us to live in the world and not renounce it, formalising a life where spirituality and daily living coalesce seamlessly. The gurdwara has always been more than a soaring edifice for congregants; as Bhai Kahan Singh Nabha wrote in the encyclopaedic Mahan Kosh, a gurdwara is a centre of learning for students, a hospital for the sick, a storehouse for the hungry, and a sanctuary of safety. In contemporary society, we see these historical purposes reflected in modern amenities. Many gurdwaras now offer medical diagnostic facilities and clinics where volunteer doctors give their expertise gratis, such as the diagnostic centres in Chandigarh and Delhi; floors or spaces dedicated to cancer patients’ attendants at the Dadar Gurdwara in Mumbai; and surgical patients in Chennai, to name a few.

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For the younger generation and the diaspora, the gurdwara is an essential source of integration and cultural preservation. Gurdwaras like the Guru Gobind Singh Foundation in Maryland or Gurdwara Sahib Glenwood, Australia, run Punjabi language schools, Gurmat classes, and even sports clubs for football, netball, and wrestling to engage the youth. In Norway, the Unge Sikher (Young Sikhs) body has become a primary way for the youth to learn about their religion, while events like ‘Turban Day’ in Oslo introduce the wider public to Sikh identity. Turban Day in Times Square, New York, became quite famous some time ago. The objective is to appeal to young Sikhs with modern facilities while keeping traditional aspects for elders, as seen in the 1968 architectural brief given to the famous Canadian architect Arthur Erickson while designing the relocated Khalsa Diwan Society in Vancouver.

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Rachna: Having spent decades as a journalist, how did your training as a reporter influence your approach to researching and writing about Sikh history, heritage, and sacred spaces?

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Roopinder: Over four decades of my life were dedicated to journalism, during which I served as a reporter-editor in New York and Chandigarh. I still write for many more newspapers and magazines since my retirement in 2020. I feel that the discipline and techniques I have gained since I started writing, including “journalistic digging,” have proved very helpful to me. My first book was published in 2002, and since then, my experience has been that for long-form writing, one both depends on journalistic skills and supplements them.

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To take an example from the book, it is an unfortunate fact that most gurdwara committees cannot speak of their history beyond their earlier committee members, so I had to look into archives and various historical sources to recreate these narratives. I leaned heavily on the scholarship of writers like Tara Singh Narotam, Giani Gian Singh, and my father, while also seeking help from a large number of friends and researchers globally to gather accurate information on gurdwaras I could not visit personally. My training helped me keep the detached eye of the journalist and the subjective heart of someone documenting their own tradition. I have endeavoured to ensure each description is accurate and informative, but never dry.

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Rachna: Many of the gurdwaras in your book stand far from Punjab, rooted in lands and cultures vastly different from those of their origin. What do these global shrines reveal about the journey of Sikh identity across borders and generations?

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Roopinder: These global gurdwaras represent the “core spiritual DNA” of the community. While the abodes change their shape and architecture to fit new landscapes, the heart remains the same. For instance, the Sikh presence in East Africa started with workers building the Kenya-Uganda railway in the 1890s, leading to the establishment of the serene Makindu Sahib. In North America, the Stockton Gurdwara, established in 1912, became a hub for the Ghadar Movement. It is where the Ghadar newspaper was printed. Scholarships to Berkeley University for Indian students showed their commitment to the advancement of the next generation of immigrants. Only one of the first five was a Sikh.

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Gurdwaras abroad tie the sacred past and a multicultural present. We see this in architectural adaptations, like the brick entrance in Stockton that doesn’t conform to a typical template, or a gurdwara in New York that was housed in a former Methodist church building.

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Unfortunately, it burned down, and now there is a new building. In Italy, Sikhs are seen as ideal immigrants, filling gaps in the dairy industry, with their pastoral lifestyle bringing back recollections of Punjab. These gurdwaras prove that while the community adapts, the values of faith and service remain a constant anchor.

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Rachna: The Sikh tradition places great emphasis on sewa, sangat, and langar. In your view, how have gurdwaras helped preserve these values while adapting to the social and cultural realities of different countries and communities?

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Roopinder: Sewa (selfless service), sangat (congregation), and langar (community kitchen) are the three essential pillars ingrained in the Sikh psyche. Gurdwaras have helped preserve these by making them central to their daily operations, regardless of where they are located. Langar, in particular, acts as a potent instrument of egalitarianism, where everyone gets free food regardless of religion or background. Everyone sits in pangats (rows) to break bread together, shattering barriers of caste and creed. The San Jose Gurdwara has a beautiful painting showing Mata Khivi, wife of Guru Angad Dev, serving langar, and even Emperor Akbar partaking in it.

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Adaptation is most evident during times of crisis. The way the community contributed by organising “oxygen langars” and providing free groceries and medical inoculations during the Covid-19 pandemic is still fresh in people’s minds. In London, the Central Gurdwara became a rallying point for the community when a massive fire broke out in a nearby apartment block in 2017. In Maryland, the Guru Gobind Singh Foundation is at the forefront of the EcoSikh initiative, creating “Guru Nanak Forests” to combat climate change. These acts of service towards humanity empower the community by quelling selfish impulses and inculcating humility.

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Rachna: Your book is enriched by Allan Quesada’s paintings. How did the collaboration between author and illustrator develop, and what did his artistic interpretation add to your vision of the project?

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Roopinder: We had a beautiful interfaith teamwork. The project involved a Sikh writer, a Roman Catholic illustrator, a Hindu publisher, and a designer from the Iglesia ni Cristo. Rajiv Daswani, the publisher, had a specific vision for visual narration from the start and enlisted Allan Jay Quesada, an architect and artist from the Philippines, to paint these Gurdwaras.

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With the eye of a painter, Allan captures a “serene, atmospheric silence”, and the paintings have a warmth that a camera lens might skip.

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His accurate architectural drawings, combined with the soul he puts into the shimmering play of light on the water and the intricate patterning of marble floors, transformed a massive historical archive into an intimate, tactile treasure. He worked tirelessly; there was a degree of back and forth, and it all continued till they were perfect. I provided what I could; we visited gurdwaras together, and he even used live streams and social media to find reference photos for gurdwaras and more details.

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Rachna: Many readers may be familiar with iconic gurdwaras such as Harmandir Sahib, but your book also highlights lesser-known shrines. Were there any hidden gems whose stories you felt especially deserved wider recognition?

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Roopinder: Gurdwaras are diverse in form, and while Harmandir Sahib’s influence is undisputed, tradition does not allow it to be replicated directly. One “hidden gem” is Gurdwara Makindu Sahib in Kenya, a serene place with shady trees and peacocks that is often called the “Harmandir Sahib of East Africa”. Another is the Gur Sikh Temple in Abbotsford, Canada, which was designated a National Historic Site by the Canadian Prime Minister in 2002; its exterior echoes the traditional frontier buildings of that time.

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I also found the story of the gurdwara in Panama City fascinating, where Sikhs arrived in the late 19th century to help build the Panama Canal. And then there is the architecture of Rori Sahib in Eminabad, Pakistan, a beautiful brick building, unique in how the moulded brick structure has been used.

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Rachna: You have written extensively on Sikh history and culture over the years. Did researching this book change or deepen your own understanding of the institution of the gurdwara in any unexpected way?

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Roopinder: Researching this volume deepened my appreciation for the syncretic richness within the Sikh ethos and the “quiet rebellion of unity” that these spaces represent in trying times. I was struck by how the institution of the gurdwara has survived existential threats and tumultuous journeys, including forced displacements from military invasions and the Partition of 1947. Seeing historical gurdwaras in Pakistan through binoculars from the Indian border or celebrating the 2019 opening of the Kartarpur Corridor highlights how these sacred spaces can bridge man-made barriers.

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For Sikhs, displacement is both physical and metaphysical, as noted by Prof. Harjit Singh Gill while commenting on the book. Whether the Nishan Sahib representing spiritual authority (Piri) being taller than the one representing temporal authority (Miri) at the Akal Takht, or the 84 steps, 8.4 million cycles of birth and death, going down Bauli Sahib and up the stairs in the Bangkok Gurdwara, the spiritual symbolism that I was familiar with became more meaningful during this five-year journey.

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Rachna: Throughout the book, one senses that a gurdwara is not defined solely by its architecture but by the lives that animate it—the voices singing kirtan, the hands preparing langar, the feet that enter in humility. How important was the human element in shaping your narrative?

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Roopinder: The human pulse is the very heart of this book; a gurdwara without sangat is a structure of brick and mortar. A gurdwara only truly becomes an ‘Abode of the Guru’ because it houses the Guru Granth Sahib and provides a space for living practices like kirtan, sewa, and langar. The soothing cadence of spiritual singing, the rhythmic routine, and the comforting clatter of steel plates all create a profound sense of safety and belonging.

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My narrative was shaped by the people who animated these spaces, and what I learnt from them and about them over the years. The hundreds of thousands of devotees, rich and poor alike, who performed kar sewa together at Harmandir Sahib in 1973, in which I also took part; the women who took up duties at the Central Gurdwara in London in the 1930s; and the people who gave their lives for gurdwara reforms. Human beings have paid in blood to maintain the sanctity of the gurdwaras and devoted their lives to improving their facilities and functioning. As Dr Manmohan Singh noted, a gurdwara is a material expression of the spiritual and social aspects of our way of life.

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Rachna: Among the fifty-one gurdwaras you write about, is there one that became, for you, a metaphor—a place that encapsulates the spirit of the Sikh tradition and the deeper purpose of this book? If so, why?

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Roopinder: Harmandir Sahib in Amritsar remains the pre-eminent metaphor for Sikh devotion and architecture. Guru Arjan Dev designed it with four open doors, signifying that seekers from all directions and faiths are welcome. Devotees shed their egos at the entrance as they walk down the stairs, rather than up, to reach the parkarma—a visual metaphor for humility.

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In terms of the book’s deeper purpose of bridging divides, the Darbar Sahib Gurdwara in Kartarpur stands out. The opening of the Kartarpur Corridor on the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall is a powerful symbol of how faith can bridge political divides.

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Ultimately, as Dr Manmohan Singh wrote in his foreword, I want this entire book to serve as a “gateway to the world of the Sikh ethos,” reminding readers that the true abode of the Divine is found wherever community, faith, and selfless love converge.

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Thank you so much for speaking with The Wise Owl about the inspiration behind your book, Gurdwaras: Abode of the Guru. We wish you the very best in all your future literary and creative endeavours.