We were talking with a Sikh friend, Amarjit Singh Buttar, about the recent visit of the Prince of Wales and his bride Camilla to Punjab. The Royal couple visited the historic gurdwara at Kesgarh, where the Khalsa was actualized, and thoughts naturally turned to Guru Gobind Singh, who created the Khalsa institution.

Many of the weapons that Guru Gobind Singh personally used in the numerous battles that he fought were once housed at Kesgarh, but are now parts of the British crown collection. The British took them to the Royal treasury when they won control of Punjab in the mid-19th century. Now that India is independent of the British, is it at all surprising that the Sikhs demanded return of these relics back to the Punjab, their homeland? Prince Charles made the appropriate diplomatic noises and promised sympathetic consideration. This is not the first such demand made by people of their former masters after freedom was won. We remember that on an earlier visit by Queen Elizabeth to India, some Sikhs demanded the return of the legendary Koh-i-Noor, a diamond that now adorns the British crown.

We wondered about these demands, even though they stemmed from resentment and righteous anger against former colonial masters. Post-colonial relationships with former masters are shrouded not only in emerging political considerations, but also remain burdened by emotional baggage of a history of debasement.

Yes, the British took Koh-i-Noor from the Sikh kingdom after they annexed it. But the diamond came to the Sikhs from the treasury of the Persian, Nadir Shah. These were spoils of war that came into the hands of the Sikhs and then were lost to the British, again as spoils of war. The stone did not come from the earth of Punjab. Who its original owners were, where it originated, how Nadir Shah acquired it, and what hands it passed through until it reached the British are questions that are part of a murky tale of war and bloodshed. Its path is not clear or linear, nor is it legitimate. To us, this case is a prime illustration of the principle that possession is nine-tenths of the law.

The expropriation and transfer of the weapons of Guru Gobind Singh to British control might be simpler to delineate, their progress easier to follow and document. Yet we wonder if they should be returned at this time. Let us explore this matter.

Recently, there was news that some rare manuscripts of Professor Puran Singh, dating from about a hundred years ago, had mysteriously disappeared from the university library where they were housed. (It is still unclear if they have actually disappeared or are merely misplaced!) There were also reports that another controversial but rare 18th century manuscript stored in that university's library was somehow defaced by marginalia and hand-written notes of Professor Piar Singh, who recently retired from that university. Now we would think such desecration of historical documents and careless disregard of them would be malfeasance of a high order, if not criminal behavior.

At another level, we are all too familiar with the recent renovations to Sikh historical buildings where centuries-old wall murals and frescoes are being painted over, in the cause of "modernization." Thus, art is being desecrated, and history is literally being erased.

Not so long ago, in 1984, when the Indian army attacked the Harmandir at Amritsar, it went about systematically looting or destroying the hundreds of hand-written manuscripts at the Sikh Reference Library. Many of the artifacts carried off by the army in that attack have not yet been returned; it appears that some cannot be found. In its result, was this much different from whitewashing murals and obliterating history?

We have often wondered at the apparently offhanded concern with which India seems to treat its own art and history. Ironically, the problem in many ways may lie in the richness of Indian cultural heritage. The old Indian culture presents a surfeit of history and tradition. Indeed, there is so much of it that it is usually valued only by the rare Indian scholar, and taken for granted by the ordinary Indian. Invariably, it is the visitor from abroad who appreciates it and finds meaning in it. Often it takes a foreign scholar, usually an American from a relatively young culture with a short history, or a European, to explore the richness of Indian art and artifacts. Sad to say, many Indians often find the plastic art of McDonalds or the tinsel art of Las Vegas more alluring because of their modernity. It is a little like the child with too many toys, or Imelda Marcos with her 3000 pairs of shoes.

To date, there is little tangible evidence that the value of manuscript and artifact conservation has been recognized in the Indian cultural milieu. Therefore, an adequate infrastructure for the curatorship of these precious items is of only recent vintage and, as yet, poorly developed. It is true that such preservation measures are not cheap, nor are the skills involved easily acquired. Perhaps increased collaboration between Western and Indian conservators and curators would be useful for such technology transfer.

Admittedly, there have been a few encouraging initiatives that are indeed to be celebrated. For example, book digitization projects, that would make the contents of valuable, but deteriorating, manuscripts available online, are slowly appearing in India. There are hopeful attempts to preserve the pristine art of the Taj Mahal and the enrapturing work at Ajanta and Ellora. Preservation of the original items and preventing their deterioration or destruction are essential, while balancing along with them the needs of display and access for study.

That Indian concepts of preservation and availability of rare historical documents are supremely underdeveloped are clearly evident from one example. The Kartarpur Birh, which is the original handwritten source document for the Guru Granth, remains controlled and housed by a family. This Birh is brought out for display for one day every year. Devotees catch a glimpse and donate offerings; only a rare scholar gets to examine it. Surely, the process of deterioration continues to take its toll unchecked. Keep in mind that most ink and paper have a limited lifespan, even under the most precise conditions of preservation. This is hardly the way to preserve and study a national treasure.

So, we wonder, wouldn't it be better to leave the weapons of Guru Gobind Singh in the hands of the British Museum in London rather than bringing them back to Punjab? We can think of several good reasons to recommend this.

Given the prevalent state of the art of preservation of relics in India and the generally lackadaisical attitude towards them, there would be less fear of their being lost, stolen or misplaced in established facilities for preservation, display and access outside India, where they will remain more secure. Curators in Western museums already have the expertise necessary to preserve these artifacts under conditions that provide appropriate levels of climate control, and can afford to do so.

In addition, we would further argue that such exhibits in Western museums have a much greater chance of being viewed by a non-Indian, non-Sikh audience. Leaving these prized historical treasures where they are well taken care of would protect and preserve them for posterity, while informing the world about Sikhs, and their history and heritage. Isn't that what we really want?

Keep in mind that Sikhism is now a worldwide presence with Sikhs in every corner of the globe. The message of Sikhi is both universal and eternal; there is no reason that the historical documents and relics that define and give life to Sikhi should remain confined to the land of Punjab or India.

Of course, we are not suggesting that Indians be deprived of the treasures that come from their own land -- their rightful cultural patrimony. It is just that these are treasures that the whole world deserves to see and learn about. Museums often take their prized collections on international tours, and there is no reason that these should not include India. If King Tut's treasures can travel around the world, there is no reason that Sikh relics and artifacts could not.

Colonial history is always demeaning and it is not easy for the master or the subject to transcend it. But time makes robbers into barons, thieves into noblemen.

In this global village that the world has become, let's not remain parochial.