The Story of the Turban

September 2011.

Parliament Square was a blaze of colour.

We are proud to be Sikh!

Thousands of Sikhs from all over Britain gathered here in protest.

To defend something they hold so sacred,

they'd go to any lengths to protect it -

the turban.

Over the past ten years, the Sikhs believe their distinctive headwear

has made them the target of discrimination.

Sikhs feel very strongly that at airports across Europe,

just because we wear the turban we've been asked to remove it.

It's like a King wearing a crown

and if somebody comes and knocked it off or what have you,

it's considered very, very disrespectful.

We are proud to be Sikh! We are proud to be Sikh!

It's a problem Sikhs believe was born out of the terrorist attacks

of the 21st century.

At the time of 9/11, Bin Laden's image was shown

on all the television pictures again and again, and repeated.

And he was a hate figure. He wore a turban.

9/11 changed everything.

Because the Sikhs so often found themselves mistaken for Muslims,

precisely because they were wearing turbans.

A younger local youth came down and he said, "Are you Al-Qaeda?"

and I was really, really shocked.

So just what does the turban really mean for Sikhs?

This is the story of one of the most sacred symbols of the Sikh faith.

From its origins in Mughal India,

through the battlegrounds of Europe...

I was dragged out of the aircraft.

My first concern was my turban.

..to the struggle of British Sikhs

for the right to wear it without fear.

So we're never likely to see a turban on a Wolverhampton bus?

It is most unlikely in the present circumstances.

To be forced to remove one's turban

is like receiving a deep spiritual wound.

It is the lifeline of a Sikh.

And we'll discover just why the Sikhs consider it so important

they'd even risk their lives for it.

A Sikh would die for the turban, without question.

No turban, no Sikh.

Over the past 50 years,

the turban has become a familiar sight on the streets of Britain.

But to get a glimpse into its origins in Sikh history,

we need to go back centuries and cross continents to Mughal India.

The Sikh faith was founded in the 15th century by Guru Nanak.

It was a time when India was fraught with religious division -

Muslim against Hindu, caste against caste -

but the Guru stressed the belief in one God and the equality of all.

The quality of life of an average Indian in those days was very poor

and they were oppressed.

They were tied into superstitions.

There was religious persecution.

So in that kind of an environment,

Guru Nanak came with a message which was quite different.

In his very first sermon he said,

"In God's eyes there is neither Hindu nor Muslim."

God isn't interested in our religious labels.

God is interested in how we live.

So it was a very, very progressive religion.

Whilst all the Sikh gurus wore the turban,

it wasn't until 200 years after Guru Nanak

that it became an established part of Sikh identity.

It was under the leadership of the tenth guru, Gobind Singh,

that it was introduced for all Sikhs.

Not just as a symbol of holiness, but as an act of defiance.

At the start of the 17th century, Gobind Singh's father,

the ninth guru, was executed by the Mughal Emperor.

His crime was defending the rights of all religions

in the face of forced conversions to Islam.

But it was from this tragic event that the Sikh turban was born.

At that time, Sikhs had no distinguishing symbols

and when the Mughals taunted Sikhs in the crowd

to come and claim their master's body,

people were scared to do so.

So the tenth guru, as he grew into maturity,

he was only a boy at the time of his father's death,

he determined that Sikhs would always be recognisable

for their principles and he gave us a uniform.

Gobind Singh decreed that Sikhs shouldn't cut their hair,

and to protect it they should wear a turban.

It was a physical reminder of their faith

and a symbol that made all Sikhs equal and distinctive.

It was an extremely brave thing to do

because at that time, non-Muslims were not allowed to wear a turban

so this is standing up to the might of the Mughal Empire

to say, "This is what we are and this is what we're going to be."

Since its origins in Mughal India,

the turban has become an article of faith for Sikhs all over the world.

And one that's still respected in Britain today.

Turbans come in different colours, shapes and sizes.

And they're important throughout a Sikh's life.

When a child reaches a certain age,

there is a formal ceremony to tie the turban

and this is often done by the mother's brothers.

And when a Sikh dies, he dies wearing a turban.

So when he's cremated, he's actually wearing a turban.

For all Sikhs, however they choose to wear it,

the turban is a key symbol of their religious identity.

My turban represents who I am.

It makes me feel like I can conquer the world.

It gives me a unique identity to stand out in front of many people.

Obviously because immediately you look different

you've got to live by certain standards.

You don't want to be swearing,

you don't want to be doing bad things,

so it encourages you to try to, you know, stay on the right path.

The turban is our crown.

It sits quite proudly on the top of our heads and it says to the world,

I am the sovereign. I am an independent person. I am a Sikh.

Sikhs in Britain today are able to wear their turbans freely,

but that's not always been the case.

The story of the turban in this country is a turbulent one

in which Sikh courage and resolve has often been called upon.

When the British ruled India in the 19th century,

the turban would've been a common sight.

But it wasn't until the early 20th century

that it began to make its first appearances in Britain.

Clearly there were plenty of people from Britain in India

who would have observed the turban

and would have begun to be familiar with it.

As far as in Britain itself,

I think the immediate consciousness of the Sikh turban

would have come about during the course of the First World War.

In 1914, British forces took a huge number of casualties

fighting in France.

The only army that could reinforce them

and that was as big and as well trained was the British Indian army.

Indian troops took up their places on the Western front.

Although the Sikhs only made up two percent of India's population,

they formed ten percent of its army.

Amongst the one million Indians fighting,

100,000 were Sikhs.

And the turban was so important for them

that in order to continue wearing it,

they were prepared to put their own lives in danger.

Of course, there was always a problem

with the turban and modern warfare.

The moment we moved into the trenches in the First World War,

tin hats were necessary for very, very obvious reasons.

But the Sikhs said,

"We can't take off our turbans because our hair needs protection,

"and a tin hat with leather inside it

"is the last thing we are going to put on our heads.

"As far as we are concerned

"these turbans are adequate protection for us."

I think they regarded them as somewhat magical,

it should keep the bullets away.

It was an act of defiance the army accepted, and even encouraged.

You would expect there would be pressure from the army

for Sikhs not to wear a turban. In fact, it was the opposite.

The last war that the British had fought in India

was against the Sikhs and it was very evenly balanced, the conflict,

and the British JUST won.

But they had huge respect for the fighting qualities

and integrity of Sikhs

and when Sikhs were recruited into the armed services,

the British would insist that they must wear a turban

and the other symbols of their faith.

There were stories of British officers coming back and saying

they saw Sikhs picking bullets out of their turbans.

And one even said that maybe all British officers

should adopt the turban. That's how effective it was.

20 years later, with the outbreak of the Second World War,

the Sikhs once more came to Britain's aid.

# England asked the question

# When danger's nigh

# Will the sons of India your foes defy?

# Will we fight for England?

# Yes! Until we die!

# That is India's reply! #

And one of the first to join up was Mahindar Singh Pujji,

a Sikh pilot in the RAF.

He passed away in 2010, but in his last interview

he revealed just how important his turban was to him

when his plane was hit by a German fighter.

Black smoke from the engine started coming.

Oil started coming out.

At about 8,000 feet, I thought I wouldn't make it.

And then I saw the White Cliffs of Dover,

so I was so happy about it and continued to glide.

And I just crashed on to the ground.

I was dragged out of the aircraft,

people saying, "Oh, he's still alive, he's still alive!"

I could hear them but I had my eyes closed because of the fire.

At that stage, my first concern was my turban.

I just put my hands on my turban to see that it is still there,

and, er, my hands were full of blood.

There was a serious injury on my head.

And it made me feel at that time

that perhaps the turban had helped me.

In wartime London, such shows of bravery and loyalty

touched British hearts.

I was treated as a very important person, VIP.

That was specially because people here had never seen

an Air Force officer with a turban and wherever I went,

they felt very, sort of, obliged.

They said, "Oh, you're fighting for us."

I stood in a queue trying to see the Gone With The Wind film,

and when I went to the ticket counter

the girl there said,

"You don't have to buy a ticket, sir, you can go in."

I wrote to my father.

I said, "No one could find a better place to die than a place here,

"because these are the people who love me and respect me."

Thousands of Sikhs, like Pujji, were injured or lost their lives

in the two World Wars.

Their sacrifice gave the turban a special status in Britain.

During the Second World War and afterwards,

the turban was seen as a symbol of loyalty to the British Empire.

The British showed respect for the turban because they surmised

if someone is true to their faith

they will be true to greater society and to the armed services.

'This is the first time that the world famous Sikhs

'have taken part in a tattoo in the United Kingdom.

'And, tonight, we in Edinburgh

'would wish to accord them a very warm welcome.'

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

But once the threat of war had receded

and the Sikhs were no longer crucial to Britain's military success,

attitudes to the turban began to change.

From the late '40s, Sikhs from India and East Africa

began flocking to Britain, to start a new life.

There were two reasons for such an influx of Sikhs or Indians.

The first reason was that Britain had just come out of the war,

and there was a labour shortage

so they invited people from former colonies, which included India,

to come and help rebuild the country, so many Sikh men from the Punjab

came to England to work in the foundries,

the mills, the factories and also we had the partition of India.

'Delhi, the 15th of August 1947.

'The day when the British at last shed the burden and responsibility of India.'

In 1947, India gained independence from Britain and was divided in two.

India and the new country of Pakistan.

But the Punjab, the traditional home of most Sikhs,

lay on the border, and was split between them.

Many Sikhs stranded in Muslim Pakistan fled.

They had to leave their homes.

Some came and settled in places like Delhi.

Others thought, "Here's an opportunity.

"Let's go and see something of this mother country of ours."

The new arrivals made for London, the Midlands and West Yorkshire

where they often found work in textile mills or industry.

For the first time, the turban was a common sight in British cities.

But as the Sikhs put down roots building Gudwuras

and establishing their own communities, tensions rose.

And it was precisely their appearance that singled them out.

'They look different and they sound different.

'And their tastes in matters of food are different.'

It was hostility to the fact that these folks didn't look like us,

didn't behave like us, didn't have the same values as us

and were competing with us for scarce resources

and, therefore, we did not want them here.

And the Sikhs were in some senses at the cutting edge of all of this,

because their turbans made them plainly distinctive

in religious and cultural terms

as well as in terms of their skin colour.

If they come to this country they should be prepared to change

and to live the way we do.

In their dress and the way they talk.

Those who aren't prepared to accept our way of living,

they're the ones that are going to get caught out.

After years of loyal Sikh service to Britain in the wars,

where turbans were required uniform,

it was a shock to find that now their turbans often prevented them

from even getting jobs.

Some British companies refused to employ Sikhs

unless they agreed to stop wearing their turbans and cut their hair.

Surjit Singh Uppal came to Britain in 1961.

And like many others, he felt pressure to conform.

I wore the turban when I first came here, till 1966.

But as a worker, people would look at you

and I was always conscious - "They're looking at me

"because I am wearing a turban."

I thought, I presumed, this was a hindrance to my future prospects.

So Surjit made a painful decision.

One day, very reluctantly, my wife actually cut my hair

and she kept it for a while.

I felt bare. Something is missing.

You lost something which is part of you.

I would have loved to keep it.

Within a decade the turban in Britain had been transformed

from a symbol of loyalty, to one of shame.

But the Sikhs' warrior spirit hadn't deserted them.

Manchester was the setting for the fight back.

In 1957, a group of Sikhs decided enough was enough.

And the unlikely arena for the battle was a double-decker bus.

In the late '50s, a gentleman by the name of Sundar Singh Sagar

enrolled for a position as a bus conductor.

Now, after completing his exams

he was told he would need to wear a regulation cap.

He refused but Manchester Transport Corporation refused to back down

and they told him that if he wanted to work as a bus conductor

then he must remove his turban and this led to an eight year campaign.

Ujjal Didar Singh remembers his father's stand well.

My father said, "I am prepared to wear a turban of the same colour

"and put a Manchester Transport badge on the turban,

"but I'm not prepared to take my turban off and wear a cap."

These regulations affected Sikhs elsewhere.

Just down the M6, a similar case kicked off.

In Wolverhampton, a Sikh, Mr Sandhu,

who had previously been working on the buses, was ill.

He went home and when he returned from his sick leave

he had grown his beard and was wearing a turban.

When I got the job I was not wearing the turban.

And in my mind always I wasn't feeling comfortable

because I was Sikh and I believe in my religion

and I want to practice my faith.

So I wore the turban and went back to the bus,

and then somebody told the office,

"There is a Sikh person driving buses,"

so the superintendent came out, to see me and he stopped me.

He said, "You can't wear the turban."

We've got about 23 nationalities

and I couldn't count how many religions

we have to cater for,

and those people, of course, who cannot comply with these regulations

would probably have to find employment elsewhere.

So we're never likely to see a turban on a Wolverhampton bus?

It is most unlikely in the present circumstances.

Sikhs took to the streets in protest.

But one man decided more drastic action was needed

to defend the turban.

Mr Jolly was an old retired police officer.

He thought, "My God, I have served British peoples all my life.

"And now I'm hearing that in England you can't wear turbans."

His feelings were hurt,

so he approached me, and he said,

"Young man, this is what I heard.

"Is this your true feeling or is it just a laugh?"

I said, "No. It's true feeling and this is what I want to be."

Mr Jolly began to campaign for change.

It's a question of principle. Like the cross to the Christians.

If I tell you to take off your cross and throw it away,

how much would you feel it?

Similarly, those people who are working there,

they are forced to take off their beard and turban.

They are forced to throw away their faith.

But when his words fell on deaf ears, he made a radical threat.

When he said all these matters are exhausted, he declared,

"If he's not allowed to wear a turban, I will burn myself to death."

Suddenly the story was headline news.

If you have to die, Mr Jolly, it's due to happen on Sunday.

Are you not in any way frightened by the prospect?

I'm not frightened for anything.

I shall find it a privilege to sacrifice for the Sikh Community.

It was a shock to me, in a way,

that somebody wanted to die for me.

He said, "I'm not dying for you. I'm dying for the cause.

"It's not for you, it's the cause."

There was already a tradition of Sikhs making statements like that

and carrying them out.

And Sikhs felt that it would be a disgrace to their community

if somebody made that sort of commitment

and didn't carry it through,

so it was fully expected that he would give his life.

But at the 11th hour disaster was averted.

In the face of such pressure, the Corporation backed down.

Mr Avtar Singh Azaad became one of the first two Sikh bus drivers

in Wolverhampton to wear a turban.

The manager, Mr Butler, called us.

He said the Corporation change the rules.

We can wear the turban now.

This is the turban actually, the blue colour we suggested.

He supply us the turban from the Corporation.

He gave us the free turban to wear on the buses.

It seemed to be a triumph for the turban.

But the extreme tactics used by Mr Jolly caused controversy,

even amongst Sikhs themselves.

In Manchester, the Sikhs had also had success,

using diplomatic means.

My father didn't agree with any form of threatening behaviour

to achieve his goals, because he was a great believer

in following procedure and political lines.

His feeling was that threats might alienate local communities

against the Sikhs and the Sikhs might be seen to be radical people,

which obviously we are not.

And in Wolverhampton such fears were proved right.

The public were dismayed.

They were dismayed that there should have been what seemed to be

a climb down at gun point.

I mean, with the fear that somebody was going to become a martyr,

and so they expressed their indignation in letters to the press.

That doesn't mean that they were all hostile to Sikhs as such,

or to the turban, but they certainly felt

that this was no way for issues to be resolved responsibly.

It was one step forward, two steps back.

Wolverhampton bus drivers were wearing the turban

but Jolly's suicide threat was a public relations failure.

The fight to wear the turban without provoking hostility

was far from over.

It was in the 1970s that the turban hit the headlines again,

in another transport-related conflict.

# Get your motor running

# Head out on the highway... #

This is the famous bike purchased by my father in 1973.

It's a little bit worse for wear.

But it's quite a famous bike, it has a very unique history.

In June 1973, it became illegal to ride a motorcycle

without wearing a helmet.

It was a law which transformed all turban wearing motorcyclists

from harmless bikers, into criminals.

Dr Singh is an honest, law-abiding man.

Don't give me that rubbish about him being a law-abiding citizen.

I mean, look at him now, he's riding that bike without a crash helmet.

He's Sikh.

Biking Sikhs all over the country rode into trouble.

# ..Born to be wild. #

It's an offence to ride a motorcycle without a crash helmet.

And you'll be reported for that offence.

One of the law breakers was Sundar Singh Sagar.

My father rode this motorcycle on the streets of Manchester

and picked up a string of violations,

and was then taken before the magistrates and fined.

He was told that if he didn't pay his fine, he would go to prison.

And eventually he was sent to prison for a week.

Upon his release, myself and quite a number of the community members

met at the doors of Strangeways Prison,

there was a loud cheer, and he was adorned by garlands

and we had his motorcycle ready

and he mounted his motorcycle in front of the Strangeways gates

and he proceeded to drive down Bury New Road

and in the short distance of about one kilometre,

I think he was given traffic violation tickets on seven or eight occasions.

It was the determination of men like Ujjal's father

that finally led, in 1976, to an act being passed,

exempting turban wearers from having to use a helmet.

But this time the turban's triumph had been achieved

without alienating the public and it had raised awareness

of just how important the turban was for Sikhs.

But the right of Sikhs to wear the turban everywhere and anywhere

without discrimination, was still not protected by law.

It was a case in the 1980s that finally changed everything.

The turban was about to make legal history.

This time it was one of Birmingham's best independent schools

that decided the turban was not for them.

In 1978, 12-year-old Gurinder Singh Mandla had made his father proud

by winning himself a place.

But following a now familiar pattern, there was a catch.

The headmaster took exception to Gurinder's turban.

The choice was either I go to the school and cut my hair

or not to go the school at all and for me it was never a decision.

I was never going to go to that school without my turban.

My turban is part of me, it's like my right arm.

Gurinder's father, Sewa Singh Mandla, was a lawyer

and he decided to take matters further.

I felt very aggrieved.

And I said, "Look, if you compromise my faith,

"then my son will not grow up as a strong person

"because I believe faith gives you strength."

And the only course left for me then was

to seek recourse to the courts

because clearly I was being discriminated against.

Mr Mandla began court proceedings.

It was a course of action that would bring the turban

to the forefront of the best legal minds in the land.

Roger Ballard was called as an expert witness.

The race relations act had recently come in

and so Mr Mandla sued the school

on the grounds that it was discriminating against his son

strictly on racial grounds.

The Mandlas argued quite straightforwardly

that the Sikhs were an ethnic group in terms of the act

and that refusing Mr Mandla's son a place at the school

was contrary to the Race Relations Act.

But much to the Mandlas dismay, they lost the case

not once but twice.

In the County Court and the Court of Appeal.

I was surprised by it.

Living in a multi-racial society that people like that

are closing doors on people like us.

The Sikhs could now be discriminated in very vital fields

like education, housing, employment.

The outlook was bleak.

But the Mandlas weren't about to give up.

And there was only one place left that could reverse the verdict.

The House of Lords.

The Lords were faced with a decision.

Were the Sikhs a religious sect,

in which case they weren't protected by the Race Relations Act,

or a national, ethnic, or racial group, in which case they were?

Quite clearly the Sikhs weren't a race in a biological sense.

Nor were they a national group because there was no Sikh nation.

So Mr Mandla's solicitors were right in suggesting

that the Sikhs were an ethnic group.

The House of Lords, in their wisdom, they decided that an ethnic group

was a body of people with a long shared history,

a consciousness of their distinctiveness,

and a commitment to keeping that distinctiveness

within the community alive.

Therefore, the school had indeed

discriminated against Mr Mandla's son on racial grounds.

Five Law Lords have ruled that a Birmingham Head Master

broke the law by refusing to allow a Sikh boy

to wear a turban for school.

After a campaign that had lasted five years,

it was a victory for the Mandlas and for the turban.

I was overjoyed. I was overjoyed.

Not for myself but for the community.

I feel privileged that I was part of it.

I think the Sikhs collectively showed that the will of the people

can ensure that the right to self worth, the right to one's identity

is now enshrined and protected.

The Mandla case changed everything for Sikhs in Britain.

Their right to wear the turban in any walk of life,

was now protected, for the first time, by law.

Today, the results of the fight for Sikhs to wear the turban

in Britain are evident everywhere.

The stylist has asked for a black turban

and he's asked for a very British style of turban so it's quite small,

as opposed to ones you'll see in the Punjab.

Rest your eyes, rest your eyes.

That's great.

20 years ago, I don't think I would ever have an opportunity like this

to model for big, high-end fashion designers

because people didn't understand the importance of the turban.

It was like an abnormality at that time.

But now it's like accepted in everyday life.

I think that is definitely huge progress.

The Sikh crown has made it to the pages of fashion magazines,

but it's also found its way into the corridors of power.

Since last September, there's even been a turbaned Lord.

I'm the first turbaned Sikh, not only in the Lords,

but in parliament.

And it's the reaction outside in the Sikh community

that has been extraordinary. There is a recognition that

there's no part of society that they can't reach up to.

It seems the British turban has made it to the mainstream.

So why then did the Sikhs take to the streets of London last year?

Well, in Europe, the turban is still under attack.

To France now, and the controversy surrounding plans to ban

religious symbols in state schools.

The peaceful but heartfelt protest by Sikhs from the around the world.

They're upset that the proposed ban

on religious symbols in French schools

could extend to the turban as well.

It's this new threat to the turban,

which motivated British Sikhs to take up their placards once more.

We don't really have this problem in Britain

because British people are aware of our links from the past

and are aware of the Sikh culture.

It's just mainly to support our brothers and sisters

abroad in Europe.

The fight for the turban hasn't just been about the right

to don elaborate headwear.

It's been a battle for religious freedom.

And the British Sikhs have led the charge for change.

It takes a lot of courage to stand up against the establishment,

to challenge it.

The people who fought these cases are really our heroes.

I mean, they are the early pioneers of our Sikh community in Britain.

I feel very proud and very humbled.

My father showed the people that he had the convictions

to fight for his religious freedom.

The turban is certainly more assured of its future in Britain

because of that history of what the Sikhs have achieved.

I feel immensely proud of wearing my turban in this country.

I remember when I was turned down from a job

at managing a coal mine because I wore a turban

to being here in the House of Lords,

and it's a reflection, not of my ability,

but a reflection on the huge change in British society over those years.

That is something that I hope will be exported all over the world.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd