There's no deadline for grief

...Meaning, it might take a while.

After years of keeping this blog, I have had the opportunity to speak with a number of ex-classmates, talk to people, and have real conversations about growing up in 3HO Sikh Dharma.

When I do take time out of ordinary life to reconnect or have a conversation, what usually follows is a familiar pattern and string of emotions. First, I experience a little bit of euphoria because I was able to reconnect with an old friend. But after that feeling wears off, I feel exhaustion, thirst and brain-fog. My emotional state is sapped, my thoughts become sort of non-verbal and I don't possess enough brain-power to process my feelings. Then I go through a night (or two) of restless sleep and hypnagogic states of nervous internal dialogue. Still, I go about my day, telling myself This Too Shall Pass.

During this fog-brain state, I will experience a nervous energy and a feeling of true dread. There's a heavy pit in my stomach and a churning pulse in my abdomen, neck and face. My vision starts to feel a little off, glassy sort of. What I am experiencing is a sludgy kind of anxiety, and I have come to recognize as a sign to get myself some self-care.

Even if I get care, sometimes I'll ride the anxiety for a while, trying to process my feelings and sort them out in a coherent way. I might scour the internet for any sign that our story – the un-varnished one, that is – might be getting told by more people. That bit-by-bit we will come forward and speak our truth, discuss our experience, and process it like the fully-aware people that we are (right?).

It's happening now, and I'm hoping more will follow. Sonofasikh is a blog written by one of my schoolmates as he processes his childhood by revisiting the place where it all went down. It's funny, charming and nostalgic. And it is especially poignant. My goodness. His account of being tortured by Nanak Dev Singh–this singular moment among far too many–was nevertheless astonishing and horrifying. And it was heartbreaking. But it was revelatory too, because I found myself able to live inside his experience and fully be a part of it and empathize with it in a way I hadn't done before. I must admit, I had become so familiar with my own family experiences of assault and battery that, well, they just take up more room in my consciousness. This shook me out of that myopia, and for that I am grateful.

But it also made me feel so much sorrow and so much loss.

***

Our experiences as 3HO children were both collective and individual at the same time. We each experienced and remember slightly varying versions of the same kinds of abuse. At the time, our only way of commingling those disparate forms of antagonism was to form a sibling-like bond, and forge ahead as best we could. But we had so little space to experience the full range of emotions that are so crucial in childhood development. Empathy was often sacrificed in our day-to-day coping. So much so, that it became nearly amputated from our lives. And our parents were cut off from it in their own cultic environment too.

Empathy. It's not the same thing as compassion, love, forgiveness or acceptance (all important faculties). Empathy is the ability to validate another person's feelings by acknowledging their experiences, even when you might have a different point of view. People like us–the indiakids–may not be aware that we might lack empathy. It was actively revoked from us, and we were not shown how to demonstrate it to one another. If we have developed it, we have had to take whatever kernel exists inside ourselves and grow it on our own... and probably as adults, and probably in a very flawed and messy way.

I don't really have a way to end this post... I guess I'm still processing.

💗

The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword

Firearms training, and exposure to firearms were normal growing up in 3HO Sikh Dharma. My parents owned two or three handguns and a rifle. Even as a young child I knew where they were stored – inside their bedroom closet, loaded, and inside a padded, brown leather holster. Yogi Bhajan had a 24-7 cadre of armed security guards that were always within arms reach of him.  These guards were mostly men, albeit some very young and inexperienced "men", and there was one woman, named Shanti. These guards openly declared that they were willing to give their lives to ensure his safety.

Every summer the young children (as young as four or five years) lived in tents at Ram Das Puri for 8 weeks of children's camp. Our mothers were "down the hill", undergoing a different kind of indoctrination, a militarized retreat called Khalsa Women's Training Camp. Handgun and Rifle target practice, however, occurred at about 1000 yards' distance from our children's camp. Women from KWTC rode up in orange school-busses. When us children saw the busses arrive we were excited and happy, thinking 'maybe this is when I'll get to see my Mataji, and she'll hug me, kiss me, and maybe she'll even take me home with her'. Alas, the bus never stopped. It drove past us with moms waving, and cheering us, while we cried and begged for it to stop. And while they didn't appear pained, us children were injured by their deliberate show of "detachment".


The ladies of KWTC demonstrating their drill routines, c. 1984

KWTC target practice did not come without its glitches. One of those was fatal, in which a man, who was there to assist KWTC women, was the unfortunate victim of a firearm backfire. The bullet exited the rear of the chamber, entered his neck, hit his carotid artery, and, being 8 miles up a dirt road from the hospital, he bled out and perished. He left behind a two-year old son, a boy of my generation.

Although this man was skilled in the use of firearms, there is no predicting when a tool like this will malfunction. And although we were raised with a certain "respect" for the instrument, we began our own firearms training between the ages of 12 and 16. I shot my first handgun, a Glock 9mm, when I was 15.

But how did this group morally justify the use of weapons of this nature? As converts to the Sikh faith, they had adopted the practice of carrying the Kirpan, a harmless little steel dagger. Even so, how does one make the leap from the Kirpan to a 45-caliber semi-automatic handgun?

Yogi Bhajan, the sole authority of 3HO Sikh Dharma, was playing all sides in the ongoing crisis between the Akali Dal, the Indian Government, and the sikh separatist Khalistan movement led by Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale. At the same time, one of his inner circle devotees was attempting to acquire a large supply of major weapons. He was also possessed by a personal desire for power and wealth, so employed a common strategy in cults: the doomsday scenario. He painted this doomsday scenario to be the transition from the Astrological Piscean Age to the next Astrological age, the Aquarian Age. In this transition, which could last several centuries, would be great suffering and strife. He said, "Most people will be crazy. You must master my meditation techniques that will uplift you from the ensuing insanity. But you must also be prapared. You are Warrior-Saints". A convenient message to the 3HO members – piety without backing down. So they meditated whilst militarizing themselves. They practiced yoga and they practiced shooting guns–at Ram Das Puri, our privately owned, hilltop children's camp-slash-yoga festival-slash-firing range.

Contrarily, contemporary Indian Sikhs are generally not inclined to militancy. My Sikh classmates at GNFC were not even remotely militant. They came from upper middle class Punjab backgrounds that, for the most part, chose Guru Nanak, the pacifist, as their Patron Saint. And at the same time they, like us, were schooled in the history of militancy in Sikhism from the time of Guru Hargobind (1595-1694) to Guru Gobind Singh (1666-1708), Maharaja Ranjit Singh, etc etc, but while Indian Sikh children are educated, we were indoctrinated, and made to learn and adopt the martial arts and dress of the Nihang sect, a small, male-only class of orthodox and martially inclined Sikhs.

  

  

 

Portraits of 2nd generation 3HO sikh boys in full Nihang regalia.

Historically, from the 17th Century to World War II, Sikhs have enjoyed the warrior class status among the changing and evolving structures of India – from the Majarajas, and the Moghul Empire, to fighting alongside, and then against the British Raj. The history of Sikhs (militant or not) in Punjab and in India is fascinating, and deserves broad, mainstream exposure–if only to serve as a meter for all the complexities of modern Indian history. The most alarming chapter, however, took place while I was in India – the rise of the Sikh separatist movement, and the subsequent Operation Blue Star*, which ended in the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by her Sikh bodyguards, followed by anti-Sikh rioting, war, and mass bloodshed, and ending in 1989. Thousands of innocent people were massacred as a result of the clash between Indian government and a few self-righteous, agenda-driven ideologues.

***

Notwithstanding, there's no logical conclusion to make regarding any connection of traditional Sikhism, and it's proud military history to Western Anglo Sikh converts and handgun ownership. Perhaps it's an ideology that conveniently fits with a self-serving and paranoid "all-American" desire to exercise their 2nd Amendment Right to the fullest, and their fervent attachment to a paternalistic figure like a cult leader.

When I was eighteen I made a resolution to never own or even touch a handgun. A friend carried his Colt 45 with him to a party and left it in my car. As I was coming down from LSD, I held the gun in my hand and experienced a chilling and gripping feeling that this was nothing but an instrument of death. Not protection, not self-defense. Death. Hate. Fear. Paranoia. Destruction. I wanted no part of it.

I am grateful for LSD for providing me with this outside intervention. The substance itself became a catalyst for open-mindedness and my eventual path toward tolerance and acceptance. Through this I not only experienced the feeling of turning away from militancy for good, but toward using my creativity and intellect as a force far more effective than any weapon could offer. Then and there I knew I was better than the gun-toters.

My heart goes out to the Sikhs in Wisconsin. You might think this white lady doesn't know you, but I do. Many of you were my friends when I had no parents or family. I enjoyed your selfless hospitality in your Gurdwaras and Langars, and for that I have fond memories. And while I no longer wish to worship with you in your temple, I wish you prosperity and happiness in the country that is my homeland that I do love so.



*The Wiki link to Operation Blue Star may not be entirely neutral, but you can follow citations to learn more about it.

about

I was born and raised in 3HO Sikh Dharma, a religion that I now know to be a cult. I left at 18 to live my life as I saw fit. After many years of not being able to shake the early childhood and India memories I am here to share my experiences and my current feelings about 3HO and their now deceased leader, Yogi Bhajan.

Growing up in a cult, we were often told that we were special and we were made to feel unique amongst mainstream society. The sad reality, however, was that we were treated carelessly and casually like communal property. In 1982 I was child-swapped to an inexperienced, negligent and abusive couple. In 1983 I was sent away, along with a group of other 3HO children, to boarding school in India. I was eight years old, and I was to live the rest of my childhood in a third world country under the "guidance" of appointed members in 3HO and Indian school matrons. As the years went on more and more groups arrived. 3HO Sikh Dharma continues to send children away to boarding school in India.

In my past experience it has been common for myself and my second generation peers to act flippant or dismissive when dealing with this past. One of the reasons, I believe, is that in dealing with the issue head on, one can become overwhemingly angry, anxious, stressed, depressed or saddened, and in order to simply cope we choose to brush some of the hard truths aside. We may rationalize by saying "everyone goes through traumatic experiences" or "it wasn't ALL that bad, was it?". Another possible reason that ex-3HO peers may have difficulty validating another's experience, and this is due to our being deprived of the natural development of our individual selves, and the encouragement of ashram adults (vis-a-vis the leader, Yogi Bhajan) to tattle and punish one another for speaking out or being different. The fear of reprisal–in whatever form–carried over to adulthood, and diminishes the ability to see each other for the amazing individuals we are, and want to become.

I am hopeful for my future, and in the futures of my second generation peers. A majority of us have gone on to higher education and have developed the necessary critical thinking skills needed for independent thought and informed choices.

About this Blog

I want the curious world to know, from a first-hand account, what life was like for me growing up in this religion, removed from my my nuclear family for more than half of my childhood. Through counseling, therapy and education, I am now able to convey my opinion clearly and confidently, knowing that my feelings are valid, and that there is an audience that wants to know more about our story.

The motivation for this journal is not as a polemic, but is a personal platform where I express some of the feelings that emerge now and again as a result of being raised in the high-demand religious cult called 3HO Sikh Dharma and Kundalini Yoga.

Posts are written in no particular order, and are archived by the written date.