It reached nearly 80 degrees Sunday when five men in vibrant kesari attire began to walk as one. Known as the Panj Pyare, or the five beloved, their steps marked the start of the long Nagar Kirtan journey that winded through downtown Stockton neighborhoods.
Behind them, a decorated float carried the Sikh holy scripture. Thousands from across San Joaquin County — some even from out-of-state or abroad — trailed close on the float’s heels.
Spanning elders and young children, the throng of people walked for hours in what is considered to be one of the largest Sikh celebrations in the country at the Stockton Gurdwara Sahib.
Some took breaks from the baked pavement by riding on the handful of other floats following behind. Others cooled down by picking up slightly-chilled, sweet lassi handed out by volunteers.
Together, they brought in the city’s 27th annual Vaisakhi festival, their purifying each street it crossed in time to recognize the faith’s birth.
“We believe in Sarbat da Bhala, which means peace for everyone — the entire world,” Amrit Bhinder said. It was her 16th year celebrating Vaisakhi at the Stockton temple. “Doesn’t matter what religion, what gender, anything.”
Earlier, to reach the temple grounds, many were whisked down Sikh Temple Street in golf carts, leaving behind cars that filled surrounding neighborhoods for blocks. As attendees made their way to the temple’s steps, hints of fried batter and warm spices hung in the air.
By 10 a.m., the temple grounds thrummed, the melodic strain of Sikh devotional hymns overlapping with the steady murmur of chattering families. In years past, the event has brought upwards of 20,000 people, organizers said, second only to attendance at Yuba City’s annual Sikh parade.
It’s “being one with the lord, being one with everyone,” Bhavjit Bains said of the congregation of people, or sangat, including his groups of friends who he came along with.
At this gurdwara, the first Sikh place of worship in the United States, a celebration of faith and community is also rooted in “courage,” said Tejpaul Singh Bainiwal, assistant secretary and historian at the Stockton temple.
It’s something that Bobby Singh has become familiar with. Years earlier, the 26-year-old said he had picked up a call from the FBI, the agency warning Singh that his life was in danger from the Indian government.
His activism, in support of Khalistan, was the reason why he was a target, Singh recalled the agency saying.
Standing before a cage protesting the jailing of Sikh political prisoners by the Indian government, Singh said Sunday’s event is also one that advocates for the Sikh faith.
“‘Til death, we’re going to still advocate,” he said. “It comes to the point about what our Guru teaches us — keep doing the work that you’re doing, keep advocating, and you will rise more.”
Several floats tell the “Sikh perspective,” said Fateh Singh Gill, an educator at the gurdwara.
“This is our chance to tell our side of the story,” Gill said. “As a community, our voice is marginalized, and it’s censored.”
Just outside the gurdwara’s main hall, an installation gave visitors a vivid history of the Khalistan movement. To the side, a black poster was littered with sticky notes written in English and Punjabi. Each responded to this question: “What does ‘Azaadi’ (freedom, in English) mean to you?”
Pressed into the poster’s left edge, a blue note was one of the first that booth staff member Nabraj Kaur read aloud.
“A home, where every person, every bird, water and the environment live together, in harmony,” Nabraj said as she translated the note. Other notes, she read and translated mentioned “equality” and “freedom of thought.”
Like many taking refuge from the day’s intense heat, mother and daughter Ranjit and Tanvir Kaur (no relation to Nabraj) sat underneath the shade of a nearby tree.
From when she was “super little,” Tanvir said she remembers walking alongside the floats in the Vaisakhi procession with her family. Now, they “hang back,” Tanvir said, often running into people she recognizes from her childhood.
“Vadhiya,” Ranjit, 45, said in Punjabi of spending time with her daughter, who translated — “It feels wonderful.”
For others, like Manpreet Kaur, the holiday is a way to participate in seva — or “service.”
The 20-year-old, unrelated to Tanvir and her mother, said she would come to the grounds of the gurdwara as a child “and not (understand) what was going on.”
This year, as a way to grow her devotion, Manpreet took part in “jhardu di seva,” or the sweeping of the city’s streets before the holy scripture passed through.
“Now that I’m an adult, I see that it’s grounding yourself — connecting with God,” Kaur said. “I found myself in this religion.”
