Why Does the Sikh Wear Underwear?

 

My epiphany for the week is that I’m something of a spiritual whore. Always have been from the time I got down on my knees and became born again at age 14. Even back in those days I surreptitiously used to read forbidden, non-Biblical literature as well and tried to decipher the metaphysical poems of William Blake. As a result I’ve spent a good deal of my life building altars, gazing at crystal balls, dancing in circles under the stars and most recently, sitting and staring at a wall. I sample religions like some women eat chocolate. 

 

So India has been great for me--a virtual smorgasbord of faiths to try, and all within walking distance. Most recently I’ve been sitting in the Sikh temple which is conveniently located just a few steps from where I live at the Catholic college. Most evenings there are musicians playing and I love the music. But another true confession: I think Sikh men are sexy. Maybe it’s that scene from An English Patient where Naveen Andrews oils his long, black hair with olive oil, or maybe it’s because I like men who think and there’s something about those turbans that gets my curiosity going--what’s underneath them? 

 

But now it has changed. On the front of the temple are posted the four rules for Sikhism and one of them is to wear underwear. Now I have nothing against underwear, but does it really need to be a rule for spiritual discipline? I’ve heard Mormons wear long, wooly things, and well, it just seems a little extreme. 

 

So last night while I sat there listening to the men play the dilruba and jori drums, instead of wondering what was under their turbans, I found myself trying to imagine their underwear. Boxers or briefs? Do any of them have hearts or teddy bears on them? Are they bright colors like red or orange or do they go for the more modest white? Do their wives or mothers make them or do they buy them in packages of three or six? 

 

And does it really help them live more chaste lives which is the reason given for the rule? Somehow I think it takes more than briefs to curb desire. 

 

I think I’m learning something about my own spiritual tastes these days, and while I plan to keep sitting, I probably lean more towards the rowdy pagan than the celibate nun. 

 

Well, the rain has woken me up in the middle of the night, but  thoughts of sikhs and underwear are keeping me awake.