Amanjot Kaur - Testimonial 5 Sikh Student Camp

I graduated this summer and hopefully will embark on an MA in Modern Literature in the Autumn. In my early years as an undergraduate, I had at best a tenuous link with the Sikh Society at university. Despite this, at the few meetings and gatherings that I did attend in those days, I made some acquaintances who gradually became friends.

I found that this one particular penji would often mention a Sikh camp that she’d been to in the summer. She was so enthusiastic about it, and it was clear from the way that she smiled whenever she spoke about it that it meant a lot to her. When she asked me if I’d consider joining her at Sikh Student Camp, I found myself telling her that yes, I’d like to experience the camp myself. In all honesty, if it hadn’t been for her steadfast reminders and sheer enthusiasm for camp throughout the year, I would have forgotten that conversation and my words would have remained unfulfilled.

I was blessed enough to have her at hand to remind me gently once term ended and after we broke up for the summer. We bounced emails in July and she kindly answered all of my questions. So August arrived and with it, those eventful seven days. What I experienced at Sikh Student Camp 2005 truly defies description, or what my language can express here, anyway. When asked why my time at Sikh Student Camp was so important, there’s only one simple answer I can possibly give: it gave me my first taste of Sikhi. I was 20 years old. This will sound bizarre at first, given that I was born into a Sikh background, to Punjabi parents. But investigate a little more and you will find that this is a common situation, a problem of epidemic proportions in our community. There are gaping holes in the knowledge and practice of many second generation sons and daughters.

For me, Sikh Student Camp was the bridge, the stepping stone that allowed me to start to access the Sikhi that I had so often witnessed, but never experienced for myself before. I felt a change in me on the very first day when we sang the camp Shabad together. From that point on, I felt open to anything and so the week that followed was transcendent. Participating in the Kirtan felt like acceptance. The talks during the week affirmed what I had for so long believed to be just my own lofty and utopian ideals. Together with the other girls in my dorm, we would wake up earlier than required and rush to Darbar Sahib early in the morning to meditate on the name of the Lord. Unable to stop smiling, many of us felt unprecedented peace and simultaneous exuberance (I believe that it’s called it Chardi Kalla!)

Finding a Sangat or a support system is undoubtedly one of the most important things to have come out of Sikh Student Camp. I was overwhelmed by the number of warm, articulate and devoted young people I met at camp. With such support, I have been presented with many opportunities for Seva. This ranges from being elected president of the Sikh Society at university in my final year; compiling the handbook for this year’s camp and being a group leader at a kid’s camp, to attending the odd soup run!
Had I not gone to camp last year, had I not made such friends and had I not been given such opportunities for Seva, I do not know where I would be now. Together we strive to build our individual relationships with the Guru and our God. Our efforts are strengthened by our unity. Rumi’s words spring to mind:

With friends you grow wings. Alone you are a single feather in disgrace.
With them you master the wind, but alone, you are blown in all directions.

Going to Sikh Student Camp opened my eyes, my mind and most importantly, my heart. It has impacted my perspective, my family and my future in ways that cannot be measured. I cannot say what life would be like had I not been there a year ago. It is something I don’t care to think about either; that’s someone else’s story now. All I know is that I’m ever grateful for the opportunities Sikh Student Camp has opened up for me. For the way it introduced my to my Guru and my God, who will help me master the wind.

Amanjot Kaur, West London,