Our Beloved – Ajeet Singh Matharu

The following was written by a Jakara Movement sevadar in honor of a wonderful GurSikh activist. Known to many in the Jakara family as Ajeet Singh, he had been part of the movement from its very beginning in 2000. We love, miss, and honor you Ajeet.

I always had a huge extended family in Fresno.  No mamay, chachay, phuas, or thaiys; they were all in Punjab.  Still somehow halfway across the globe my parents and their friends had reunited and created a community.  Those famous ‘batches’ from the 1970s in Patiala, now along with a few others, had all come to settle in California’s Central Valley.

While there was ‘New Years at the Sidhus’, “Father’s Day BBQs at Woodward Park” and “4^th of July at the Ranus’, it was the almost-monthly birthdays, weekly Punjabi school sessions, and other family gatherings where friendships and relationships were formed.  Ubiquitous at all these functions was Jaswant Auntie’s affectionate hugs and Joginder Uncle’s garish Hawaiian shirts.

Their son was a late addition.  However in a world of simple “Abhi’s” and “Arshi’s”, “Neilo’s” and “Paulo’s”, there was only one Ajeet Singh.  It wasn’t that the rest of us didn’t have “Singh” in our name, but somehow it conjoined and seemed most appropriate with Ajeet.  Named after a prince, he, himself, was a prince.

Ajeet wasn’t always a saint, especially when he was younger.  His bouts of anger and stubbornness were almost as legendary his exploits.  Crawling under desks in Dr. Atamjit’s class drew almost as many laughs as his vocal impressions – “high tone/low tone”, “Mecseecan-Mecsoocan”, and the repeated “Hallo”.  His smile was infectious.

Academic success came soon.  He left us in Fresno to pursue greener pastures in Exeter, New Hampshire.  It was there that Ajeet Singh imbibed the Socratic teaching methodology of his Harkness education, a way of learning and teaching that was to never leave him.

It was also not the case that Ajeet Singh never faced any difficulties.  It was hard at first to adjust to his new school.  From a big fish in the small pond at Buchanan High School, competition was rigorous at Phillips Exeter.  When many of his friends were bound for various Ivy League Schools, Ajeet would be returning to California to attend USC.  Far from his first choice, but I believe this is where Ajeet Singh’s legendary stubbornness began to be channeled into something else – grit, determination, and a ‘never-surrender’ spirit.

Ajeet Singh excelled at USC.  He majored in History and Economics, in keeping with his broad interests.  The USC Sikh students all had a soft spot for their fellow Trojan.  In a strange twist, I was there at Ajeet Singh’s graduation.  Waheguru always brought us together.

In some ways it is the tale of our relationship.  I hadn’t planned to go to his graduation.  When I was graduating from high school, Ajeet Singh was still only in middle school.  I had always felt closer to his older sister, Amu.  Still, Waheguru always brought us together.  I was on the USC campus, looking for a book, when I saw the Matharu family there to celebrate Ajeet Singh’s graduation.  We exchanged pleasantries, hugs, pictures, a far too brief, but memorable conversation – then we went on our way.

Three years after I had finished my service as part of the Teach For America corps in Baltimore, Ajeet Singh called me to tell me he was applying.  He was eager and willing.  I warned him of possible roadblocks or bouts of racism he may face.  He was undeterred.  His stubbornness had truly been channeled into determination.

He was committed to the cause of social justice and education.  Even after a bureaucratic setback to the launch of his teaching career, he did not waiver.  Where others would have quit, Ajeet Singh worked for a year in New York at the Apple Store, and became a Teach for America corps member the following year.  The first year was rough.  His picture on a bulletin board was defaced and students often yelled racial epithets, when passing by his classroom.  Ajeet Singh persevered.  In fact in an interview later he spoke of how such incidents strengthened his commitment to the Sikh way of life.  He worked doubly hard in the classroom and became a favorite in his Brooklyn public high school.  His students could see his commitment to them.  One evening he called me and asked for my advice; I told him to find a balance.  By his second year, he had matured and found his niche.  He had become a master of pedagogy and lesson planning.  He now had developed skills to couple with his passion.  In an interview he explained his inspiration:

I was inspired to become a teacher in New York City because I knew that the state of education throughout the country is unequal. Some students are privileged while others face many hardships. I wanted to give all students the kind of education that engages them, is relevant to their lives, and that gives them the tools they need to fulfill their dreams. This is the kind of education that I got and believe that our country needs to make it available to all.

Ajeet Singh was committed to social justice for all.  In a document titled “Sikh Solidarity with Palestine Statement”, Ajeet Singh’s name features at the top of the signees.  He had even spoken to me on numerous occasions on how to engage more Sikh with the cause.  All this tells of a special soul and spirit.  In the great humanistic tradition of the Sikh Gurus, he desired justice for all.

Still he had a special place in his heart for his own community.  This is where Ajeet Singh and I had our most sustained contact and where our paths always crossed.  Ajeet Singh was a GurSikh activist with the same spirit of those Singh Sabha soormay of the early twentieth-century.

He had been part of our Jakara family from the start.  A conference initiated by three older members of the Fresno family in 2000, soon became a complete group effort.  Ajeet Singh was there.  By 2002, we often joked that he was the best facilitator for having got “Jasmine to come back.”  Jasmine was a young participant that shared with us that she was only returning the following year if Ajeet Singh would be her facilitator.  In 2004, Ajeet Singh was part of a team of a few young activists that were bent on not allowing the community to forget the human rights abuses that occurred in Punjab in 1984.  Driving to Gurdwaras throughout the Central Valley, Ajeet Singh’s infectious spirit of chardikala with his jovial easy-going manner brought smiles to all.  This is where I first noticed the angry Ajeet Singh of a childhood long ago had found peace with himself.  In 2009, when I was studying abroad, I could think of no better person to conduct the facilitator training than Ajeet Singh.  Hesitant after a hiatus from the conference for two years due to other commitments, his performance could only be described as phenomenal.  One first-year facilitator formed a special bond with Ajeet Singh that weekend.  Recently, he wrote:

In loving memory for a great Singh, Brother, Role-model and beloved Friend.

Ajeet had a way of talking to you that would stimulate your mind while comforting your soul. He would challenge and instigate, forcing you to dwell deeper into your mind than you thought you ever could. He would be able to guide you through a journey, putting all of your worries at ease along the way with his charming smile. It is very heartbreaking, and quite honestly incomprehensible, how someone so full of joy and life was taken from us so soon and at such a young age.

I’ve known Ajeet for the past year and I knew that within the first few hours of meeting him that I would love, respect, and learn from him for the rest of my life. His passing isn’t an end to that process, simply another means for me to learn and be inspired from. He was one of God’s true gifts to this world and I miss him dearly.

He touched many people’s lives that weekend and that two Sukhmani Sahib paaths were immediately and independently organized this week in San Jose and Los Angeles to celebrate his life are a testament to the impact that he had.

It was while I was still overseas that he emailed me about his decision to go to graduate school in history.  I gave him some early suggestions for readings, but he amazed me with his own diligence.  In March of 2009, I came to Columbia to present at a conference.  As usual, I hadn’t planned to meet with Ajeet Singh.  Waheguru always brought us together.  We ran into each other and went off for lunch.  He took me throughout his Brooklyn neighborhood and that afternoon we munched on some pizza and velvet cake.  Reminiscing about the past, we soon switched topics to his work with the Sikh Coalition and in developing the high school curriculum for the Sojhi project with the Sikh Research Institute.  That afternoon we talked about life, school, history, relationships, and seva.  With a smile across his face, he told me that he was going to apply to Gurinder Mann’s summer Punjab studies program only to learn that I had also attended the program almost 8 years prior.  He laughed and said, “I really do follow everything you do.”  I joked and retorted “Koi nahin putt, you are following your own path; I am just a little older and a few steps ahead.”  He looked at me and said, “No really, I didn’t think anything of the TFA stuff or even really about history, but somehow when I saw your name on the Punjab studies website, it dawned on me.  You are my vada bhra.”  Ajeet Singh came the next day to Columbia University to listen to my boring presentation.

That fall, despite offers from Cambridge, UCI and other top programs, he chose to start his graduate work in history at Columbia.  Over phone and via email, we debated, exchanged articles and ideas.  In November, I decided to attend a conference at UCSB.  Ajeet Singh was there.  Waheguru always brought us together.  Book in hand, he excused himself early from the presentations to finish up some readings in the library.  That was Ajeet Singh for the past year.  All his friends and professors at Columbia will attest to his diligence, curiosity, dedication, and scholarly commitment.

In February, I helped organize the first annual Sikh graduate student conference, Sikholars.  The first person I called to submit a paper was none other than Ajeet Singh.  It was at this event that I was reminded of another constant in his life – his family.  Soon after his paper had been chosen by the selection committee, his mother called my home.  In a half-joking voice, I congratulated her on her son’s achievement and invited her to come and attend the conference.  His family’s commitment to him was absolute.  ‘Jeetha’ was the twinkle of his mother’s eye.  Auntie, uncle, Amu, Ajeet’s chacha, chachi, and two cousin sisters filled the entire first row.  Ajeet Singh presented his paper, titled “Punjab and Sikh Studies in Historiographical Moments”.  He left me in awe.  That same stubborn and angry little kid had channeled his passion to become a brave, bold, and compassionate young man.  He had the courage to speak the truth and criticize those he believed had waivered.  I was the student and he was my teacher that day.  I left with a valuable lesson.

Just a week before his passing, I saw Ajeet Singh again.  Neither of us had planned it, but Waheguru always brought us together.  This time it was in the mountains of Manali.  We met at an Italian restaurant, roamed the city and agreed to get together the next day.  In a group, we hiked up some trails.  For a brief while, we broke away from the group and spoke about history, historiography, Sikh studies, academics, life, family, and Fresno.  We joked about how I had got his whole family to come to Stanford for the Sikh conference, while not inviting my own.  I told him your parents adore you.  He smiled and then said, “I know they do.”

Ajeet Singh never bragged, but he was proud to share with me a huge honor he had received from his department after only his first year.  His talent and exceptional abilities had been recognized by his professors.  Finally, we talked about one of his dearest cousin brothers and his personal journey with Punjabi Sufism.  I joked and asked, “Are you also a fan of Satinder Sartaj? [a popular Punjabi Sufi singer]”.  With half a smile, he said, “I can walk with him part of the way, but then we split apart.  I am too vested with Guru Gobind Singh.”  That was Ajeet Singh.  He, like the son of the 10^th Guru, from whom he took his name, owed his allegiance to the Guru.

We departed and joked about the next time we would be in Fresno together again.  Little did I know that would be the last time I would ever see him.

I love you Ajeet Singh.  You [are] a Singh, my colleague, my friend, an activist, my teacher, and my brother.  Although you called me your ‘vada bhra’; you are the one that teaches me so much [thank you HSC].  Your loss is not mine alone, nor that of your family or even our extended Fresno family.  The Qaum lost a shining gem and prince.  You were a GurSikh, imbibed with the spirit of seva and sangat in eternal chardikala.  From whence you came, you have returned.  You leave a piece with all of us still here.  Until we are reunited again my dear brother – for Waheguru always brings us together.