I have discovered through the years that there are a number of traits that are common to Sikhs everywhere - of all ages, all nationalities, and even of varying degrees of religious observance.

I believe that there is a list of common likes and dislikes, passions and taboos, that unite us and - contrary to popular belief - do so, much more than similar commonalities in any other community. While we see ourselves as disunited and fractured, I've had numerous members of other faiths tell me how they envy the sense of unity amongst the Sikhs.

I've had both Jews and Muslims say to me, in as many words, that only if their respective communities could be as united as the Sikhs, they could rule the world! It's all a question of perspective ...

On top of the list of our common passions, for example, is the unique emotional and personal attachment each one of us has with the Durbar Sahib. Similarly, I cannot find any Sikhs who ever waver from the unequivocal commitment to the idea of One God, common to all creation.

Then, there is a list of our common dislikes.

And close to the top of it is one that we share passionately and universally: our utter disdain for those who brawl in the gurdwaras. Young and old, men and women, learned or unsophisticated - I know no one who doesn't respond with anger and disgust each time such an incident occurs and we hear about it on the news.

A home-made video of a brawl in Brampton, Canada has been doing the rounds lately. I've seen people seethe at the mere mention of it. My own blood-pressure shoots up every time images of the scene crawl back before my mind's eye. But it's also got me thinking ever since it was first seared on my consciousness by one who, I'm sure, meant well by circulating the short clip over the internet.

What is it that turns these men - they're always all men, aren't they? - into boors and ogres? They are sober - alcohol is not the excuse in these conflagrations. (This is one time when I'm not sure if that's good news or bad.) They are all on gurdwara premises - they couldn't possibly be oblivious of the fact these eruptions usually take place during gurdwara committee meetings.

I can vouch that they are not certifiable imbeciles, because I see some of them at other times or in other situations and they appear to be perfectly normal, functional, responsible citizens. What is it then that turns them into monsters? It's a harsh word; but then, how would you describe what happens when you see these good souls go to a gurdwara looking for spiritual solace, freely offering their time, money and services in seva ... and then... then, you suddenly find them in the thick of a brawl with jooras unravelling, fists and turbans flying in the air?

I have given it a lot of thought because, I must confess, it bothers me to no end. As, I know, it does all of you.

And I have arrived at a conclusion which has surprised me. I began being judgmental and eager to condemn. I have ended up at a point of .... celebration!

I do not say this lightly. And it is not tongue in cheek. While I wince every time I hear of a fight in a gurdwara, while my heart sinks and my chest heaves in despair, I've actually come to see the existence of these conflicts as the ultimate evidence of the miracle of Vaisakhi!

Let me explain...and let me begin, if I may, at the beginning.

The central belief in Sikhi is that there can be no spiritual progress if we do not begin the journey by accepting that all people are equal. Wealth, beauty, birth, lineage, education, wisdom, knowledge, age, power ... nothing gives one person an edge over another. The spiritual realm is one of pure, unadulterated democracy where worldly merits and qualifications count for nothing; Grace and surrender are all that matter.

It is a democracy like no other. It isn't like the classic Greek variety, which ignored the rights of women, slaves, and anyone who wasn't ethnically Greek! True, the fount of Western civilization was a democracy of sorts, but it worked for only a fraction of the population. Some democracy.

It isn't like the American version either. The Great Beacon of Freedom had somehow managed to get by through much of its history with the Big Lie that the exclusion of women, slaves, aboriginal nations, non-Christians, etc, etc from the normal privileges of society did not in any way take away from the concept of Equality for All.

Sikh democracy is the ultimate manifestation of this idea, in that it remains the purest form of it to date in human history.

Especially when it comes to matters spiritual, no compromises were made. Even wisdom, knowledge and education - areas that have been given great importance otherwise - do not get you brownie points on the road to salvation. The unlettered fool, even the imbecile, has no less a claim to God than the sage or the scholar.

Any mortal, educated or unlettered,
Whose mind dwells with the Lord,
Shall be granted the Supreme Dignity.
GGS, M5, 197:18

So, you don't have to have a degree to graduate across the portals of Grace. You don't need to be bright and articulate. Or sensible. Logical. Rational. Comely. Presentable. Or even social.

And the same rules apply to every stage of that journey.

That is, if you want to do seva, the honour and privilege of serving others is not reserved for only those who meet certain social standards. Thieves and murderers - and I'm merely using extreme examples to make the point - have the same right to serve langar and receive the shoes of devotees as the most pious amongst us. Remember Sajjan the Thug? Kauda the Cannibal? And Banda the Mendicant?

This is assuming that all other requirements of law and human decency are met, of course.

All have access to langar, and to every form of seva. And all have equal opportunity in the service of gurdwaras, including in the running of the latter. The management of places of worship in our community, again, is not reserved for the learned and the pious.

True, the learned and the pious too have equal rights.

But here's what's happens in the real world.

People like you and me ... those who have had the good fortune of benefiting from education, those of us who have become "professionals", those who have "clean" jobs and those who enjoy vocations ... and vacations! .... we have no time left anymore for seva in the gurdwara. We do our obligatory obescience on Sunday mornings, and we take the family along on gurparabs and hang around for langar, but that's it.

When was the last time we helped cook or serve langar? Swept the floors or cleaned the washrooms? Or did shoe-seva?

We probably did complain the other day at the party about the unclean washrooms, or the boring program in the gurdwara. But we no longer have the time, or the inclination, to dirty our hands. Certainly, we think it is beneath ourselves to even accept a position on the gurdwara committees. We have come up with so many good reasons to not do all those tasks, but we have assumed that others will step in and do the needful.

And they do.

Remember what Guru Gobind Singh had promised to do?

He vowed to turn sparrows into hawks.

Transform jackals into lions.

Infuse every man and woman with the power of savaa-lakh, a hundred-and-twenty-five-thousand!

And He kept his promise. You're looking for the proof? Go to a gurdwara today and it'll stare you in the face.

While the doctors and the lawyers, the accountants and the bankers, the engineers and the entrepreneurs, have all turned into Sunday-morning Sikhs, it is the taxi-drivers and the factory-workers - please forgive me, for I am generalizing in each list, not to insult anybody, but merely to make a point - who have taken on tasks that have to be performed in the gurdwaras. The langar has to be cooked, whether you and I turn up on Friday night or not; the dishes have to be washed on Sunday afternoon, even when you and I have to head home for the matinee ...

The foot-soldiers are ever-ready, and they do all the seva that is needed, and they do it to the best of their ability.

It is true: some of us with all the skills that we are fortunate to have acquired, all the insight and all the knowledge, could certainly do a "better" job. But the fact of the matter is that we are not there. Period.

And, it is from amongst the foot-soldiers that the management committee is chosen, inevitably. They may lack some skills, but there is no lack of self-esteem or self-confidence. Remember the Promise? Each one is a hawk, a lion, and a virtual savaa-lakh!

Guru Gobind Singh never undertook to transform all Sikhs into geniuses or managers or diplomats. Instead, he made them all equals - for he had set out to level the playing field.

Now that these chaps - with what we claim are limited skills - are left to run the gurdwaras, guess what? The usual problems arise.

True, they have no training in team-work. No management expertise. No art of diplomacy.

And, when a dispute arises, no one has ever taught them conflict resolution. Other than what they learnt on the streets of Phagwara. So they raise their voices, they throw back the chairs, they threaten, they scream ... and sometimes, fists fly. Sometimes, it gets even worse.

Here's the miracle I see in it:

This is the only religion in the world today where people fight to get in, to do seva, and then they fight to stay ... to do seva ... and they fight because they think no one has a greater right than each one of them to do seva. While every other place of worship is struggling with numbers - lack of it, that is - gurdwaras keep on multiplying and expanding. All on the basis of seva.

It is truly unfortunate to see these scenes erupt in gurdwaras, but they do represent true democracy at work. Just as we have left the running of our nations mostly in the hands of those who aren't the best qualified - and look at the fine mess we've got ourselves into! - we have also left the running of our gurdwaras in the hands of those who have the least managerial skills.

And yet, we continue to blame the sevadars, not ourselves.

The miracle of Vaisakhi is that we have been handed down incredible and unprecedented gifts. But, like all things good and beautiful, each is double-edged, like the khanda. We use it properly, it remains a boon. We neglect it, it turns against us.

The Guru can take us, like the proverbial horse, to the water, but he can't make ...