Service is basis of soldier’s beliefs
Taj Aujla wears two uniforms. Simultaneously. One is the familiar outfit of the Canadian forces: forest-green slacks, tie and jacket over a sage-green shirt. Brass buttons, black shoes, white belt and gloves, and, in his case, corporal’s stripes on his shoulders and the insignia of the 39th Brigade, Royal Westminster Regiment on his chest.
The second uniform comprises the five Ks, or articles of faith, of Sikhism. Four of the five — the Kachera, or cotton underpants; a Kara, or metal bracelet; a Kangha, a wooden comb; and Kirpan, a curved sword — may not be immediately visible to passersby. But the fifth — Kesh, or uncut hair — and its accompanying Dastaar, or turban, the latter in a green matching his military outfit, clearly are, and the 36-year-old reservist couldn’t be prouder to represent both his military and Sikh communities.
“The two uniforms serve the same purpose,” he says. “It’s about service.”
The Surrey, B.C. native is one of four soldiers from his regiment who are in Ottawa for three weeks as members of the Ceremonial Guard standing watch over the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the National War Memorial. He is the first Sikh to stand guard in that capacity. He says that when he saw the posting for the sentry duty, he leaped at the opportunity.
“The basis of Sikhism is service,” he says, “to your country and your community. Being here is a big honour because I’m representing the way of life of a Sikh. But it goes back to the Tomb, which is why we’re here. This gentleman — the Unknown Soldier — whoever he is, was serving. He made the ultimate sacrifice, for our freedom, for our country for us. To be a part of this is exactly what I practise on a dayto-day basis. What he did was very human.”
The idea of soldierly service is very much a part of Sikhism. Aujla’s great-grandfather served in a Sikh regiment in India, as did his great-uncle.
Aujla joined the reserves four years ago, attracted in part by the discipline, as well as the notion of service to others. When the chance to join the ceremonial guard arose, he did some research on the Tomb and decided he “had to come.”
“If people had loved ones who didn’t make it home from World War One or World War Two, this tomb is the place where they can come to pay their respects. To be able to stand guard here is a privilege.”
Fortunately, Aujla’s visible ties to Sikhism haven’t attracted any of the untoward behaviour that has lately marred the site. Quite the opposite, he says, numerous visitors have made a point of approaching him and thanking him, especially after his photograph appeared in the Citizen last week.
Even the shooting death of Cpl. Nathan Cirillo last October was not a deterrent to Aujla’s determination to serve at the cenotaph.
“When I joined the Forces and was sworn in, my unit welcomed me as a Sikh and said ‘Welcome to the family.’ There’s a lot of a brotherhood here, so when Nathan’s incident happened, it was a reminder that this tomb, this memorial, doesn’t just represent the past. It’s the past and present, and every one of them who has made the ultimate sacrifice is very dear to us, as soldiers and as humans as well.