Sikh Clergy Demands Accountability at Golden Temple
There’s nothing quiet about a former Deputy Chief Minister of Punjab wheeling himself through the marble-laden corridors of Amritsar’s Golden Temple—especially not when he’s there for public penance. Sukhbir Singh Badal, once at the helm of the state and still the president of the Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD), just made headlines by accepting a rare religious punishment at the holiest Sikh shrine. The message? No one, not even Punjab’s political families, escapes the long shadow of the Akal Takht when it comes to accountability.
Badal’s punishment wasn’t a private affair. It happened out in the open, right in front of thousands of eyes. His ‘tankhah’ (religious punishment, dictated by the Akal Takht, the highest temporal seat of Sikhs) was about much more than tradition—it was a stern public reminder of episodes from SAD’s controversial years in government between 2007 and 2017. At the top of the list: the polarizing decision in 2007 to grant a pardon to the Dera Sacha Sauda chief, Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh. That single event triggered widespread anger among Sikhs, causing lasting rifts and costing political capital.
On the first day, Sukhbir Badal came dressed not as a politician but as a ‘sewadar’—a volunteer in the temple. He wore deep blue, the color usually worn by service volunteers, and hung a wooden plaque from his neck clearly admitting to his wrongdoing. His leg, fractured and in a cast, didn’t get him any exemptions. Mobility on a wheelchair didn’t keep him from sitting with dozens of others to scrub metal plates and tumblers in the steaming Guru Ram Dass Langar Hall. The scene was striking: powerful men, stripped of titles, doing humble work at the Sikh faith’s most revered site.
Physical Penance and Political Symbolism
Sukhbir Badal wasn’t alone in performing ‘sewa’ (selfless service). Sukhdev Singh Dhindsa, another heavyweight and senior Akali leader also confined to a wheelchair, fulfilled his duties with similar restrictions. Former minister Bikram Singh Majithia rolled up his sleeves and cleaned utensils side by side. The spectacle wasn’t just about following tradition—it mattered because plaques around their necks spelled out past mistakes for all to see. The whole ritual, from washing dishes to cleaning devotees’ shoes and even serving as a guard at the temple’s glimmering entrance, was designed to show public contrition. Each of them was tasked with serving as a guard for an hour daily over two days—a reminder that responsibility doesn’t disappear, even with age or injuries.
The Akal Takht’s order was blunt: public service in the name of atonement. The timing is interesting. With Punjab’s political scene as charged as ever and religious sensitivities running high, the Sikh clergy’s intervention sent a clear signal. They’re reminding leaders, especially those who seek votes on religious credentials, that spiritual authority is not just about photo-ops or scripture quotes. When the high clergy says ‘admit your fault,’ even the most influential must listen.
- Sukhbir Badal performed his service while dealing with a fractured leg, signaling there’d be no easy way out and raising the bar for public accountability in Punjab politics.
- The 2007 Dera Sacha Sauda pardon still casts a shadow, with the Sikh clergy making sure the controversial political bargain isn’t quietly forgotten amid newer controversies.
- Having senior leaders like Dhindsa and Majithia join Badal in punishment made the message even louder—it’s no longer about individuals but institutional memory and shared responsibility.
The spectacle at the Golden Temple did more than check a box for religious rituals. It brought Punjab’s long-standing dance between faith and politics right into public view, showing just how far religious bodies can go in pressing politicians for real, visible remorse. And if you’re wondering whether anyone’s reputation emerged unchanged—well, not even close. The public sewa was as much about restoring lost trust as it was about paying penance for the past.
