One muggy afternoon, a pair of goats and a calf lazily graze near a structure with a tin roof, at ward number 3 in Halhalia village of Araria district, Bihar. The structure is surrounded by a bamboo barricade. A board hung outside on the gate reads: ‘Gurdwara Sri Akal Sir Sahib’. Loudspeakers have been placed on the roof and a tree branch nearby to amplify the recitation of the Guru Granth Sahib, a holy book treated as a living Guru by the Sikhs.
The gurdwara in Halhalia village in Araria district. Many Dalits migrated to Punjab years ago, where they converted to Sikhism. One of them, Narendra Singh Rishideo, returned to Halhalia and built this gurdwara. | Photo Credit: Amarnath Tewary
Nearby, Dilip Singh Rishideo and Pramod Singh Rishideo stand below a neem tree wearing yellow, black, and sky blue turbans on their head and straggly beards. They carry kirpans (short swords or knives with curved blades and one of the five distinguishing signs of the Sikh Khalsa) on the right side of their waist. The Rishideos, who are Dalit, migrated to Punjab many years ago, where they converted to Sikhism. All of them have added ‘Singh’ to their names.
They are not exceptions. Over half the people of ward number 3 in Halhalia, which has a population of about 750 voters, migrated to Punjab as migrant labourers over the years and returned as Sikhs. “On Gurpurab day (which marks the birth anniversary of the first Sikh Guru, Guru Nanak Dev), the village looks like a mini Punjab,” Pramod Singh says, smiling.
“This is our way of getting rid of centuries-old caste-based discrimination and finding respect in society,” says Narendra Singh Rishideo, 50, the head priest of the gurdwara, in Hindi laced with a heavy Punjabi accent. “After all, Sikhism talks about equality, humanity, and respect to all.”
‘Sikhism is everyone’s voice’
It was Narendra Singh who set up the gurdwara in the village on December 16, 1985. At the age of 12, Narendra migrated to Balliawal village of Ludhiana district in Punjab, where he found a job as a domestic helper. There, he would visit the local gurdwara often. Slowly, he began to listen more and more to the Gurbani, the compositions of Sikh Gurus, and grew enchanted with the hymns.
Narendra stayed there for 25 years, visiting his village in Araria district, located about 322 km from Bihar’s capital Patna, only twice. “There was nothing to greet us here except humiliation and poverty, for we belonged to the Dalit Rishideo (Musahar) caste,” he says. “I did not come here for the first 10 years of my stay in Punjab.”
Narendra recalls painful memories of how members of other castes, such as the Yadavs and Paswans, would not allow the Musahars to sit with them at functions or at festival ceremonies. “They always maintained a physical distance from us,” he says.
The outskirts of ward number 3 are known as Musahar tola (rat-eaters hamlet). Musahars, who are among the most marginalised communities and also among the poorest, are known to eat rat meat and drink country-made alcohol.
Today, as a priest, Narendra is much in demand; his phone rings every few minutes. In between calls, he recalls how the gurdwara was constructed. “I collected ₹60,000 as donation from the people of Punjab and came here. A member of my family donated 35 decimals (one decimal is one-hundredth of an acre) of land to set up the gurdwara,” he says.
Narendra is proud that the gurdwara has grown over time. Now, the campus, filled with flower pots, also houses a two-room concrete school building, a hand pump, and a two-room guest house.
“We celebrate all the Sikh festivals — Vaishaki (spring harvest), Bandi Chhor Divas (commemorating the day the sixth Guru of Sikhs, Guru Hargobind, released 52 prisoners from Gwalior Fort, who had been imprisoned by Mughal Emperor Jahangir), and Gurupurab. Hundreds of Sikhs join the festival here from Patna and districts such as Purnia, Kishanganj, and Katihar. Some even come from Punjab. We are also in touch with the managing committee of the Patna Sahib (where Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth Sikh Guru, was born),” says Narendra. “Sikhism is not a religion, it is everyone’s voice.”
A half-open SUV, donated by two Chicago-based Sikh businessmen in 2016 to the gurdwara, is parked in a corner of the campus. “When the two brothers came to know about us, they said they wanted to do some sewa (service) for the community. We asked them if they could donate a four-wheeler for the emergency needs of the poor villagers and they did,” he says.
This is not the only village where Sikhism is thriving in Bihar where the share of Sikhs is just 0.0113% of the population; many migrants from the neighbouring villages of Bara, Parwanpur, Godbelsara, and Bakhri too have converted to Sikhism. Bara also has a gurdwara, he says.
For Narendra, the biggest change in his food habits came from conversion. “We have all stopped eating meat and drinking alcohol. This is the beauty of the Sikh religion,” he says and then adds hastily, “Bihar, after all, is a dry State.”
The change also comes from economic upward mobility. Those who migrated to other regions say their economic condition has improved. They have, for instance, managed to purchase agricultural land from their savings.
In Bara village, Rupesh Singh Rishideo recalls how he went to Ludhiana to work in a sports factory in the 1990s. “I was impressed with Sikhism. When I came back to my village and saw the gurdwara in Halhalia village, I decided to take help from some villagers and construct one in our village too,” he says. Bara village has Rajputs, Yadavs, Paswans, and others. “They generally don’t migrate to other places as their economic condition is better than ours. They own agricultural land and harvest grain,” says Rupesh.
Rupesh’s friend Mani Singh Rishideo too has returned from Punjab. He says his three children have now migrated to Punjab for work. “They are also also attracted to Sikhism and I hope that they too become Sikh,” he says while twirling a thin moustache on his weathered face.
Out-migration from Bihar
The story of the Rishideos in Halhalia is the story of migration from Bihar. A largely agrarian society, Bihar ranks the lowest on the Human Development Index and has a per capita income of ₹54,383 (2021-22), which is lower than the per capita income of Jharkhand, Uttar Pradesh, Odisha, and Madhya Pradesh. Caste exploitation and poverty are the main reasons why many villagers migrate.
A 2020 study by the Institute of Population Sciences (IIPS), titled ‘Causes and Consequences of Out Migration From Middle Ganga Plain’, states that more than half the households in Bihar are exposed to out-migration, which means that at least one member from these households migrated to other regions in India such as Punjab, Delhi, Haryana, Maharashtra, and Tamil Nadu, or to countries such as Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE, to work in factories, construction sites, the brick industry, and as carpenters, plumbers, and masons. A majority of these households depend on remittances. “The most important outcome of migration is remittance. It brings about a change in consumption patterns and the lifestyle of families. Remittances result in an increase in the wealth of the family and consequential improvement in education and nutrition of the members of the household,” the study says.
Sanjay Singh Rishideo, who has come to pray at the gurdwara, says, “We migrate to other cities in search of a livelihood because there is nothing here for us: no agricultural land, no factories. How are we to feed our families?”
This desperation can be felt and seen in Bihar’s railway stations. At the Forbesganj railway station in Araria, Mohd Salman sits on a marbled platform with two black backpacks, waiting for the Seemanchal Express train. “It reaches Anand Vihar railway station in New Delhi 24 hours later. Most of us do not get place even to put a foot inside the train. Sometimes, we can’t go to the toilet for a whole day,” he says. The 21-year-old works at a sweet shop in Delhi and earns ₹10,000-₹12,000 a month.
The Forbesganj railway station in Bihar. | Photo Credit: Amarnath Tewary
At stations like Forbesganj and Araria Court, hundreds of migrants board the train every night, says the station master Manoj Kumar Jha. “People hang from the doors and window sills of trains. They are poor people and are desperate to earn something to run their lives.” At the Forbesganj station, hundreds of migrants, mostly young men, sit with backpacks, watching video clips on their cheap mobile sets while waiting for their trains to arrive. Besides Seemanchal Express, the Jan Sewa, Amrapali and Karmabhoomi Express trains carry loads of migrant labourers from the Kosi area daily to different destinations.
“Who wants to leave their home and family behind at this age? But we’re poor people. We have always been poor. My father and forefathers too were migrant labourers. What has changed in this State?” Ramjit Paswan, who is waiting at the Forbesganj railway station, says. “If we do not migrate for work and earn, my family back at the village has to go hungry for many days, and sometimes they even have to starve.”
River of sorrow
Another factor that forces people to move is the Kosi, known as the “river of sorrow” in Bihar. The Kosi area gets its name from the Kosi river. The Kosi river often gets flooded and ravages the north-eastern districts, including Araria, Katihar, Saharsa, Supaul, Purnia, and Madhepura.
“Every year, the flood wreaks havoc in our lives. We are forced to move from one place to another. My family has constructed a house seven times in the last nine years. When the floods sweep away our belongings, we have no choice but to start life anew,” says Rupesh Paswan of Supaul district, about 80 km from Araria.
The Forbesganj railway station in Bihar. Caste exploitation and poverty are the main reasons why many villagers migrate to other regions in India or abroad. | Photo Credit: Amarnath Tewary
Research studies on migration show that the average age of migrants from the Kosi area in Bihar is 32 years. “Eighty per cent of the migrants are landless. Migrants send an average remittance of ₹26,020 home,” says Mahendra Yadav, an activist of the Kosi area who works for the rights of migrants. In a study published in March 2023 on the people living between the embankments of the river Kosi, Yadav found that of “2001 families, 1,642 members migrated annually in search of their livelihood.”
“And then there is the aspect of caste,” Yadav continues. “At the bottom of the rung are Dalits. In Bihar they are ‘mahadalits’ and you will find them on the outskirts of villages. The literacy rate among them is around 6%. The development programmes of the government have not reached them yet. When their condition does not improve even after they toil hard, they migrate to other States.”
‘We don’t want to be Dalits’
In Halhalia village, the Rishideos discuss how Sikhism was like a dream come true, a religion that would accord them respect and free them from caste-based exploitation. Dilip and Pramod returned to their village from Punjab in 2003. Influenced by the priest Narendra, they converted. “In Sikhism there is no caste discrimination. The religious discourse gives us peace of mind. First the villagers used to mock us as we dressed like Sikhs. But now, no one does that,” they say. Both of them do voluntary work at the gurdwara besides engaging in odd jobs in the village. Their children have migrated to Noida and Gurugram near Delhi to work as construction labourers.
But some converts are not happy. After returning home, they find that they are still not free from discrimination. Jabni Kaur explains how their status has seen only marginal improvement. “In the Bihar government register, we are still enlisted as Dalits. They haven’t included us in the Sikh category. We hope that they will change that and include us in the minority category. We don’t want to be Dalits, even in government records,” she says.
Geeta Kaur, her friend, says, “Economically our condition may have improved. But socially we are still treated the same. Yes, we notice some change in the perception of villagers here; they don’t treat us as badly as before. But still, there is a long way to go for us.”
Many of them believe that more people will convert to Sikhism. “No government is serious about improving our condition,” they say. “So, it is only natural that many more people may come into our fold.”
