The following is an excerpt from ‘The Story of a Sikh Museum’.

‘There is a story, of a Pathan who was seen holding a paint brush in his hand. A poet remarked, ‘O Pathan, a sword in the hand suits you better, not a paint brush.’ To this, the Pathan replied, ‘You shall see. My paint brush will bring alive history—when you see my paintings, feel them, your hands shall pick up a sword on their own.’ –Bhai Mati Das Museum, Gurdwara Sisganj, Delhi.

One enters the museum with the head covered and without shoes, as one would in the sacred space of a gurdwara. The entrance to the museum on the busy fawwara does not quite prepare the visitor for the space inside.

There are large halls on two storeys, which constitute the museum. The display is unusual. In a museum, one typically expects a collection of old, rare objects of historical value. Here, the halls are lined with modern paintings. There are portraits of the Sikh Gurus, stories from their lives and that of their followers—‘history paintings’, which narrate the story of the Sikh past. These are oil paintings on canvas made in the Western academic or realist style. The painted scenes and their descriptions are like a storybook unfolding. Walking through the gallery of paintings, I found myself drawn into their world. There was the young Guru Nanak asleep in the sun, being provided shade by a cobra; Nanak and his companion Mardana on their travels; Mata Khivi, famous for her generosity, preparing the langar; Guru Gobind Singh accepting baptism from the Panj Piare; Baba Deep Singh charging into the battlefield; and Mai Bhago inspiring her companions to fight. The characters are so vividly depicted in the paintings that even as a non-Sikh viewer, I could feel both the gentleness of the Gurus’ expression and the energy of the Khalsa; the sacrifice of the martyrs was deeply moving, and the fearlessness of these Sikhs was awe-inspiring.

Like many of us, I was already familiar with these images. I had seen them on wall and pocket calendars distributed by our local shopkeepers, in small, private shrines in shops and homes, in advertisements celebrating anniversaries of the Gurus and Sikh heroes; and in popular magazines. Animation films and songs available on the internet and television programmes on Sikh history are full of these images. These pictures had seemed to me as simply popular bazaar art; I was now encountering them within a museum. Where did these paintings come from? Who made them and why? How did they end up in a museum? What is it about these paintings that engages the viewer? And what is the story they tell? This book is a pursuit of these questions.

Bhai Mati Das Museum opened to the public in 2001 and is run by the Delhi Sikh Gurdwara Management Committee (DSGMC), a rich and influential body which manages the historic gurdwaras in Delhi. It is named after one of the three disciples of Guru Tegh Bahadur who is believed to have been martyred in Chandni Chowk in 1675. An introductory panel in Gurmukhi at the entrance of the museum informs the visitor of the purpose of the museum and its significance: that the museum stands on a site enriched with the blood of martyrs—of Guru Tegh Bahadur, his three followers and Banda Bahadur and his 740 companions (who are said to have died here in the early eighteenth century). And that the museum has been established to preserve this history and to keep alive its memory.… The paintings have been created and displayed with the purpose of making people from India and abroad see and experience the glorious Sikh heritage, the sacrifices and the achievements. We firmly believe that this museum dedicated to the martyrs will help the country’s young generations become Sikhs and Singhs, adorning the Khalsa.

The museum has a total of 169 paintings on display; these are modern paintings depicting scenes from Sikh history in a realistic manner, hence my use of the term ‘history paintings’. In the museum, they are organised chronologically and illustrate the story of the ten Sikh Gurus, from Nanak (the first Guru) to Gobind (the last one) and the most important people and episodes from Sikh history. The display includes the Gurus’ portraits, scenes from their lives, their teachings and interactions with followers.

There are scenes of Sikhs embracing martyrdom; portraits of the commanders of military bands (misl) who rose to prominence in the eighteenth century, followed by the emergence of Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s empire in Punjab in the early nineteenth century; bhagats (saint-poets, like Baba Farid and Kabir) whose compositions are part of the holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib; events showing Sikh resistance to the British colonial rule (late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries); and the Sikhs’ role in the army of independent India (post-1947). There are a couple of glass cases near the entrance with a few items, including a replica of a wooden rabab (stringed musical instrument) and a miniature model of the Darbar Sahib (Golden Temple), Amritsar. A simple welcome desk and a small shelf with popular tracts on Sikh religion and history complete the set-up of the museum.

The history paintings in the museum have a particularly interesting trajectory. These were not made for display in a museum but were originally commissioned by the Punjab & Sind Bank (PSB), a prominent banking institution in India, over a period of three decades for their annual calendars. The bank published calendars on Sikh history, illustrating them with history paintings especially commissioned for this purpose. Tracing the journey of these paintings from the calendars to the museum reveals the underlying threads of interconnected processes: the world of popular Sikh art, the networks of patronage behind the paintings and Sikh museums, the creation of Sikh heritage through these and its relationship with Sikh identity and politics.

A number of Sikh museums have been established in independent India—museums which narrate stories from the lives of the Sikh Gurus, their teachings, episodes involving their most dedicated followers, and significant events in the history of the Sikh community. Some of these exist in association with gurdwaras, others stand independently and may vary in size from being small one-roomed spaces to prominent buildings functioning exclusively as museums.

They are noteworthy for several reasons. A significant number of these museums exist, mainly in the north Indian states of Punjab and Delhi. The display is unusual, for it is largely based on modern history paintings rather than on artefacts of historical value. In spite of the appellation ‘museum’, there is hardly any drive to collect, classify or preserve historical remains in Sikh museums.

Sikh museums rarely have a curator; it is common for artists to be associated with specific museums, creating paintings for display. The paintings are not unique, rare or antique in the sense of conventional museum objects, nor are they relic items associated with the Gurus. In fact, the display is widely available for use, reuse and consumption in popular culture. The museums demonstrate a perceptible overlap of the secular and the sacred, which is evident in the display (of the most honoured people of a religion) and in the visitors’ behaviour (reverential towards the museum space and the paintings), the location of the museums (often part of a sacred landscape) and their sponsorship by both religious and secular authorities. The form and content of the display are nearly identical in all Sikh museums, yet more and more Sikh museums continue to be created. These elements set the Sikh museums apart from a typical museum, in both the Western and South Asian contexts, defying an easy characterisation.

Published in special arrangement with TheWire.in

The Story of a Sikh Museum: Heritage, Politics, Popular Culture

Author: Kanika Singh

Publisher: Cambridge University Press

Year: 2025