Sikhs in Shanghai

Our “Indians in Old Shanghai” walk (Sat October 21, 2pm) explores a rich and fascinating history that stretches back to the establishment of the International Settlement and includes Parsi traders, Gujerati businessmen, Bengali poets, and–of course–the Sikh policemen of Shanghai.

The Sikh policeman was the most visible Indian personage in Old Shanghai, yet one of the least documented. In this blog post, Indian-born sociologist Meena Vathyam, author of the Sikhs in Shanghai Facebook page and blog shares her continuing journey to discover one of the least documented groups in Old Shanghai.

Saturday October 21, 2pm / Indians in Old Shanghai / RMB 300 members, 400 nonmembers, bus + walking tour, includes private bus. To register: https://jinshuju.net/f/HvlZuM or email info@historic-shanghai.com

//by Meena Vathyam // A city guidebook that–to my surprise–listed a former Sikh gurdwara (temple) launched my journey into the story of the Sikhs in Shanghai. The guide explained that following the first Opium War in 1842, the Treaty of Nanjing opened the city to trade, and Shanghai effectively became three cities: the walled Chinese city (the original Shanghai), the French Concession, and the International Settlement, the latter an amalgamation of the British and American Concessions. And it was here, in the International Settlement, where the story of the Sikhs took place.

The Shanghai Sikh temple, still standing, that kicked off the author’s journey into the story of the Sikhs of Shanghai.

Sikhs were part of the richly diverse Indian community, whose history stretches back to the nineteenth century, even before the Opium Wars. After all, the commodity that sparked that game-changing war came from Britain’s colonies in India, some of it from Indian merchants.

Illustration by Shiva Lal, Victoria & Albert Museum.

Sikhs from the Punjab served in the British army throughout the period of British rule, and beginning in 1884, for the Shanghai Municipal Police (SMP), the police force of the Shanghai Municipal Council, the administrative body that ran the Settlement. As Shanghai grew, so too did demands for security, and the number of Sikh policemen employed by the Shanghai Municipal Police grew. Initially composed of British and Irish recruits, the force would grow to include a Japanese branch and a Russian detachment, but the best-known policemen in Old Shanghai were the Sikhs, with their trademark red turbans. A uniformed Sikh policeman carrying a stippled baton quickly became a regular sight in the International Settlement.

The Sikh branch of the Shanghai Municipal Police, 1941. The SMP flag is behind them. Photo courtesy Harj Deol family archives.

By 1936, the Shanghai Municipal Police Sikh contingent totalled 558 of a force numbering 4,739. Sikhs were also employed as watchmen and dairy farm owners; they would come to play a vital role in raising Indian nationalism through sedition and revolts.

But who were these men? What were their social and cultural interactions within their own community, with the local Chinese, with other foreigners? What did their lives look like? Finding the answers proved challenging among a group of men who didn’t record the minutiae of their lives, and who were not important enough to appear in others’ accounts–that is, unless a crime was committed.

When they weren’t policing, Sikhs might be found playing hockey, or at the race track.

Thus the most famous Sikhs in old Shanghai were likely policemen Bawa Singh and Atma Singh (they were not related – Sikhs share a single surname: Singh for men; Kaur for women). Late one night, in 1936, Bawa visited Atma’s wife, who was alone and asleep at home. She demanded that Bawa leave, and he did, but when Atma learned of the incident, he went in search of Bawa, armed with a meat cleaver. He found his quarry at the Pootoo Road Police Station on Gordon Road and attacked him, nearly severing both forearms and leaving a deep wound on his forehead. Bawa died in hospital soon after.

The sensational case was all over the newspapers, but things became even more sensational. Atma was sentenced to hang, but on the day of his hanging, the rope broke and he survived. The Sikh community considered it divine intervention, and perhaps it was, because Atma’s sentence was commuted to life imprisonment, which he served in India.

Sikh policemen were also remembered for their role in the anti-imperialist May Thirtieth movement, when the Sikh and Chinese police were ordered to open fire on the Chinese protestors at the Louza Police Station on Nanjing Road, killing nine and wounding many more, and would lead to nationwide anti-foreign demonstrations and riots.

Policemen, including Sikhs, outside the Louza police station where the May 30th demonstrations took place.

In exploring digitized newspapers and spools of microfilm at the Shanghai Archives, the beginnings of a the Sikh story unfolded, but it was at odds with my own experience. Reports from the British and, after 1949, the Chinese, portrayed the Sikhs as an undisciplined community, or the hated enemy.

Yet as someone born and raised in India, this didn’t fit my childhood perception of the hard-working , boisterous, and fun-loving Sikh. The Sikh community I knew was kindhearted, one that takes strangers into their temples and feeds them, no questions asked, and has given India its soldiers, freedom fighters, sportsmen, singers, farmers, and so much more.

Archive photographs showed the Sikhs almost always on duty: standing at attention in official SMC Police photographs; and in the background of so many photos, directing traffic or standing guard on the streets of Shanghai. They were very much part of everyday life. The Shanghainese called the Sikhs Hong Tou Ah-San 紅头阿三 literally “red headed number three”: the red head refers to the policeman’s red turban, and number three, to their status in the Shanghai hierarchy, with the British as number one, and the Chinese as number two.

The Shanghai Sikh in popular culture. Top: In “Tin Tin and the Blue Lotus” by Hergé; an illustration owned by the Clift family (courtesy Stephanie Clift); and dominating the streetscape in a cartoon.

A rare few photos show the Sikhs at their gurdwara, the place where they came together to worship as a community. There were several gurdwaras, including makeshift spaces, but the best-known and most impressive was the temple on Dong Baoxing Road, constructed with Sikh funds in 1907, on land allotted by the Shanghai Municipal Council.

Left: Sikh group posing on the steps of the Gurdwara; Right: Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore at the gurdwara with members of the Sikh community.

The Dong Baoxing Road gurdwara hasn’t been a temple in more than 70 years, but the imposing building still stands, now a clinic and multiple-family dwelling that still dominates the landscape. On one visit, an elderly resident invited me into the darkened and dilapidated building: the big hall now where the Shanghai Sikhs would have once held prayers, celebrated festivals and special days is now subdivided into rooms.

The Sikh gurdwara today

The Dong Baoxing gurdwara was more than a place of prayer; it also witnessed rising anti-British sentiment among the very divided Malwa & Majha Sikh community. It was here that Ghadar freedom fighters, expatriate Indians working to overthrow British rule in India, published and preached about Indian independence.

The Indian police unit was disbanded in 1945, but like many foreigners, some Shanghai Sikhs had begun repatriating in the late 1930s, following the Japanese victory in the Battle of Shanghai. Only a handful remained after the 1949 Communist takeover, those who had started considering China as home, some with Chinese wives and children.

Photo: Virtual Shanghai

The 1962 Sino-Indian war put an end to any such sentimentality, yet it would be more than a decade later, in 1973, when the last of the Shanghai Sikhs finally read the writing on the wall and headed to India via Hong Kong — a fact that again has eluded historical documentation.

Much of the historical overview of Shanghai Sikhs is through a western gaze. Until the Sikhs themselves provide an in-depth understanding to complete the missing pieces, the story of Shanghai’s Sikhs will remain lopsided.

Sikh policemen at the time of the 1905 Shanghai riots

Hoping  to augment the Sikh perspective, I started a Facebook page where Sikh families connected to Old Shanghai could come forward and offer their stories, and several families have provided rich information and images, which are available on the page. Still, some have been reticent, not fully ready to share their family history with the public.

Since my curiosity was first piqued by a city guide, I have interviewed people, rummaged through newspapers, books, Shanghai and British archives, genealogy websites and fortunately, despite this unsystematic approach, much of the Shanghai Sikhs’ journey has been revealed, though the minute details will perhaps always remain ambiguous and intangible. Like the history of Old Shanghai itself.

Meena Vathyam is a sociology graduate, former software programmer, writer and a homemaker. She was a resident of Shanghai for two years, where she extensively researched the Shanghai Sikhs, which she plans to chronicle shortly.

Follow the journey of Sikhs in Shanghai on her Facebook page and blog.