Narrating Popular Sikh History in a Museum

Historian Kanika Singh's The Story of a Sikh Museum: Heritage, Politics, Popular Culture is a richly researched examination of how Sikh visual culture is constructed through museums and history paintings. The book focuses on the Bhai Mati Das Museum at Gurdwara Sisganj in Old Delhi—one of Sikhism's most significant shrines—and uses it as a lens to understand broader questions of identity, heritage, and political memory in contemporary India.

Singh identifies Sikh museums as a distinctive phenomenon in modern India, remarkable for their sheer numbers, flexible displays, and presence across multiple cultural spheres. Unlike conventional museums that prioritise historical artifacts, the Bhai Mati Das Museum showcases modern realist paintings (or, history paintings) as its primary exhibits. This unconventional approach challenges Western definitions of what a museum should be, revealing how non-Western institutions operate through different logics of memory and representation. She spoke to the editor of the DAG Journal about the book.

Q. You’ve written about the ways in which the Bhati Mati Das Museum (BMDM) borrows selectively from the larger discourse about museums in the postcolonial world, and concentrates on its particular thematic of constructing a Sikh history for the community today. How does it distinguish itself from potentially overlapping spaces/ imaginations of the shrine or the Gurdwara, the school and its textbooks and the popular marketplace that also sells prints or collectible objects indexing Sikh history?

Kanika Singh: I think the most straightforward answer to this question is that it does so by adopting the nomenclature and form of a museum. This is precisely what sets the Bhai Mati Das Museum, and, indeed, many Sikh museums in India, apart from other forms through which Sikh history is popularly consumed.

What do I mean by this? So, we see that the displays in Sikh museums are largely composed of images that already circulate widely in popular visual culture. These paintings of the Gurus, Sikh martyrs, and key events in Sikh history have long existed outside museum spaces. Like South Asian calendar art more generally, they have been part of everyday visual culture even before the establishment of the first Sikh museum. One finds them in nineteenth-century woodcuts and lithographs, in calendar prints, advertisements, posters, banners, and what are often called ‘god photos.’ Today, they also circulate through illustrated storybooks, multimedia presentations, websites, and social media. In other words, these images are already familiar, and the stories they tell are already widely known.

Bhai Mati Das Museum at the Chandni Chowk. 2024. The fawwara is in the centre and the museum is on the right hand side (the façade with rooftop canopies). The photograph is taken from near the Gurdwara Sisganj which faces this view. Photograph: Kanika Singh.

What changes when these images are placed within a museum is the status they acquire. The museum confers upon them the authority of historical evidence. It grants them legitimacy and credibility that is more difficult to challenge. Museums are, after all, institutions that have historically been recognised as producers and custodians of authoritative knowledge. In the modern period, they have also come to be understood as institutions of secular authority.

The Sikh museum makes highly effective use of this institutional form. By adopting the language and framework of the museum, it distinguishes itself from other modes of representing Sikh history and, in doing so, lends authority to popular historical narratives. I would argue that this is not incidental but a conscious choice; one which tells us that the Sikh community in independent India felt the need for a museum.

Q. What do you think about the choice of using academic-realist history paintings for all the displayed works in the Museum? Who are some of the artists whose works are displayed at the Museum – do they show any inspiration from the work of prominent Sikh painters like Sobha Singh?

Kanika: I begin the book with a quotation displayed at the Bhai Mati Das Museum that captures very well what these paintings are intended to do:

‘There is a story, of a Pathan who was seen holding a paint brush in his hand. A poet remarked, ‘O Pathan, a sword in the hand suits you better, not a paint brush.’ To this, the Pathan replied, ‘You shall see. My paint brush will bring alive history—when you see my paintings, feel them, your hands shall pick up a sword on their own.’

This, I would argue, is precisely what the museum seeks to achieve through its realist paintings. When I walk through the museum—as someone who is neither Sikh nor Punjabi—I am quite moved by the scenes before me. The paintings invite an emotional and embodied response. One does not simply look at them; one experiences them. The artists and patrons involved in creating these works are fully aware of this power of realism in their paintings. In my interviews with both sponsors and painters, they repeatedly emphasised that other artistic languages: whether abstraction, miniature painting, or more modern styles, would not have the same effect. Realism, they argued, makes the scene believable. It creates an immediacy that allows viewers to feel as though they are witnessing history itself. When viewers encounter a painting of a battle, they are meant to feel the energy and sacrifice of the Khalsa. When they look upon a portrait of Guru Nanak, they are meant to experience a sense of spiritual calm and transcendence. The artists and patrons I spoke with know that this affective power is inseparable from realism itself.

The artists who produce these works are sometimes associated with particular Sikh museums, but they also independently undertake commissions for religious institutions, public organisations, and private patrons. Among the most important figures are Bodhraj, who designed the logo of the Punjab & Sind Bank, and Kirpal Singh, who was associated with the Central Sikh Museum at the Golden Temple, Amritsar, which was the first Sikh museum established in 1958. He was especially renowned for his depictions of battles and martyrdom, paintings that emphasised Sikh courage and sacrifice.

Another major figure was Mehar Singh, who passed away in 2020. Coming from a family of craftsmen associated with the Lahore School of Art, he studied under the celebrated painter Sobha Singh. He later served as President of the Punjab Lalit Kala Akademi and received the Punjab Ratan Award for his contribution to the arts. His portraits and Sikh historical paintings are very highly regarded. Devender Singh, who continues to work in Chandigarh, is another prolific artist. Beginning his career with Amar Chitra Katha, he went on to produce paintings on Sikh history for institutions including Punjab & Sind Bank, the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee (S. G. P. C.), Markfed (The Punjab State Co-op Supply & Marketing Federation Ltd.), as well as gurdwaras and museums in India and abroad. I also met Rahi Mohinder Singh, another student of Sobha Singh and a distinguished artist in his own right. He was commissioned thrice to paint the official portraits of Presidents of India and has served as Secretary of the Punjab Lalit Kala Akademi.

Q. What was the process of researching and establishing the historical basis for such works by the artists? You historicise them by pointing out the patronage of the Punjab & Sind Bank – what role did they play in arriving at the genre or the subject of the paintings?

Kanika: Both the artists and the institutions that commission these works, particularly Punjab & Sind Bank, emphasise that these paintings differ from commercial art because they are grounded in historical research. The bank’s annual illustrated calendars, many of whose images later entered Sikh museums, were presented as carefully researched visualisations of Sikh history and the bank was clear that it was undertaking this project to promote Sikh heritage. Makhan Singh, who oversaw much of this project, described the considerable effort that went into identifying themes and studying historical sources.

However, historical texts are only one part of the process. There is very little contemporary visual evidence for many of the scenes being depicted, including portraits of the Gurus and major events in Sikh history. As a result, these paintings necessarily rely on imagination. That imagination draws not only on historical narratives but also on stories transmitted within the Sikh community, popular prints, and the broader traditions of South Asian and academic realist art (such as that of the Old Masters). Sobha Singh was especially influential in shaping this visual vocabulary.

History Paintings at Bhai Mati Das Museum, Delhi. Courtesy D. S. G. M. C. Photograph: Kanika Singh

The paintings are therefore not straightforward illustrations of historical evidence. More often, they visualise narratives that have become important within community memory: stories of the Gurus, martyrdom and battles. As I argue in the book, they also present an idealised vision of the past, emphasising devotion, sacrifice, heroism, and collective identity. There is a degree of glorification embedded in these images, even as they are presented as historically accurate representations.

According to the artists and bank officials I interviewed, the overall vision came from Punjab & Sind Bank’s leadership, while figures such as Makhan Singh selected annual themes ranging from historical events and Gurbani verses to women in Sikh history or episodes from the lives of the Gurus’ childhood. Artists were commissioned to illustrate specific subjects and were generally given clear guidelines about what should be represented. If an image did not align with expectations of reverence, appropriateness, or historical grandeur, revisions could be requested.

This meant that artists operated within a fairly defined framework. They worked independently, but not with complete freedom. Often, a particular representation became widely accepted and then served as a template for future images. Banda Singh Bahadur, as visualised by Kirpal Singh in the 1950s, for instance, is still painted in the same way today, rather than in an entirely new iconography. So, these Sikh history paintings are modern reconstructions of the past; and they are visualisations of how the Sikh past has come to be remembered in the present.

Q. You show the ways in which aspects of the past as depicted in the paintings have contemporary relevance and claims. How do you think the politics of museum-making today converges with representations of minority communities’ histories in South Asia?

Kanika: When you walk through these museums, the narrative that emerges is one of a distinct and a singular Sikh identity (that of the Khalsa). While aspects of this historical narrative remain academically debated, the museums present Sikhism as a unique religious tradition with its own history, values, and contributions. Moreover, visitors repeatedly encounter the argument that Sikhs have made significant contributions not only to India but to humanity more broadly—through ideals of religious freedom, justice, equality, and resistance to oppression. The museum thus becomes a vehicle for foregrounding these achievements and securing their place in public memory.

Bodhraj's history painting, Sri Guru Angad Dev ji: The Support for the Supportless (1504–1552), 1980, Bhai Mati Das Museum. Modelled on Heinrich Hoffmann's earlier work, Jesus Healing the Sick. Image courtesy: Digital Collection of N. I. P. S., New Delhi, Kanika Singh and Wikimedia Commons

And the narratives and images produced within these museums often become the basis for contemporary political and cultural claims. Historical episodes are mobilised to support arguments about the Sikh community’s place within the nation—this could range from demand for inclusion in sound and light shows to inclusion in policy making, as we saw in the Farmers’ Protests (2020-21)—and the paintings function as a form of historical evidence. Whether or not particular interpretations are historically sustainable, their presentation within a museum lends them a degree of authority.

There are many ways in which these museums tell us about how the Sikhs see themselves today (as a minority religious community) within India. What is included—and omitted—can tell us much about contemporary power relations. A striking example is the absence of the events of 1984 from Sikh museums in Delhi. By contrast, the Central Sikh Museum in Amritsar has been able to commemorate aspects of 1984 and those associated with it. The difference reflects the distinct political contexts of Punjab and Delhi and highlights how museums are shaped by the conditions under which communities remember the past. At the same time, assertion, selective representation and political uses are not particular to the minorities or the Sikhs. In fact, the museum (and, heritage) is very much a political institution used by all social / political groups globally.

Q. You draw a distinction between Sikh museums and the conventional museum displays which follow global norms of documentation, display, preservation. What do Sikh museums achieve by diverting from these established museum norms?

Kanika: I think the questions of what/how a museum does or what a museum should do or whether it is successful or not, are secondary to the fundamental question: why do we need a museum at all? I do note that Sikh museums do not always conform to internationally recognised models of museum work. Yet the people who create and sustain these institutions would argue that the repeated production and circulation of images of Sikh history is itself a form of documentation and preservation. History, and indeed the Sikh community, remains alive not simply because it is stored in archives, but because it is continually remembered and retold. My intention in highlighting these differences is not to suggest that Sikh museums are deficient, but to show that museums can be imagined and practised in different ways, particularly in non-Western contexts. Their forms and functions cannot always be measured against a single universal standard.

Seen in this light, the Bhai Mati Das Museum or Sikh museums can be regarded as highly successful. The images it houses circulate widely, shape public understandings of Sikh history, and help articulate collective aspirations within the community. They do not remain confined to museum walls. And now we see that the newer Sikh museums aspire to be more than repositories of religious history. They seek to become centres of cultural experience, education, leisure, tourism, and public engagement. Institutions such as Virasat-e-Khalsa in Anandpur Sahib or the new Sikh museum coming up in Haryana, exemplify this shift. Their ambitions are expressed both architecturally and curatorially, as they attempt to serve multiple audiences and functions simultaneously.

At the same time, the continuing construction of new Sikh museums suggests that the project of community mobilisation and heritage-making remains unfinished and ongoing. This may be because the work they are intended to perform and the aspirations they serve, remain active and evolving. Sikh museums (like any other museum) are therefore both successful and incomplete.

Virasat-e-Khalsa (Khalsa Heritage Complex), Anandpur Sahib. Image courtesy: Wikimedia Commons