BY GIAN SINGH SANDHU
President & CEO
Guru Nanak Institute of Global Studies
WRITING about the departure of a Sikh scholar and a dedicated Gursikh is profoundly difficult; no matter how carefully one chooses words, they can never fully capture the depth of the loss. I write these words not as an academic analyst or historian standing at a distance, but as a personal friend who was privileged to know Jaiteg Singh closely—to walk alongside him in thought, conversation, and shared purpose.
I first met Jaiteg Singh when he had just arrived in Canada. He travelled to Williams Lake, a small town in central British Columbia, to cover a sports event. That first meeting, far removed from major cities and institutions, became the cornerstone of our friendship. What began as a simple dialogue and academic exchange soon grew into a lifelong bond rooted in shared values, intellectual curiosity, and a deep commitment to Sikhi and historical truth.
From the very beginning, it was clear that Jaiteg Singh was not merely a writer or journalist—he was a custodian of memory. He dedicated his life to archiving, documenting, and preserving Sikh and Punjabi history, firmly believing that history, if not carefully protected, is vulnerable to erosion, distortion, and loss. For him, preservation was never a hobby or a side pursuit; it was a moral obligation.
Over decades, he meticulously collected and safeguarded historical material, often rescuing fragile records that might otherwise have disappeared. In an act of extraordinary generosity and foresight, he donated hundreds of rare photographs, articles, documents, and books to the Sikh National Archives of Canada, ensuring that future generations would have access to authentic primary sources. He understood that archives are not warehouses of the past, but foundations for the future.
Books, in his view, were never commodities. They were instruments of truth. Archives were sacred trusts. He authored and edited 18+ books.
As an accomplished author, journalist, and photographer—with a keen instinct for capturing the precise angle that best conveys meaning—Jaiteg Singh produced and edited a substantial body of work encompassing biography, Sikh intellectual history, Punjabi literature, and collective memory. His writing was distinguished by discipline, clarity, and a profound respect for sources. He approached scholarship with humility, firmly believing that the historian’s task is not to impose narratives, but to allow evidence to speak for itself.
Those of us who worked with him knew him as a demanding editor—not out of ego, but out of reverence for accuracy and responsibility. He believed that every published word carried weight, especially when it concerned faith, identity, and history.
Equally rare and deeply moving was Jaiteg Singh’s devotion to his parents, particularly his commitment to honouring his mother through the establishment of the Hardarshan Memorial. This was not a symbolic tribute, but a living institution shaped by gratitude, remembrance, and seva.
Through the Hardarshan Memorial, he created a platform that hosted countless seminars, book launches, scholarly gatherings, and commemorative events year after year. These were not occasional or ceremonial functions, but sustained efforts to keep Sikh and Punjabi history, literature, and intellectual traditions alive in public discourse.
One of his most enduring contributions was his role as a bridge between Lehnda (West) Punjab and Charda (East) Punjab. He worked persistently to reconnect writers, historians, and academic institutions across the divide.
To Jaiteg Singh, Punjab was never two Punjabs. It was one civilizational space—temporarily divided by politics, but not by memory. Beyond his scholarship, Jaiteg Singh will be remembered for his character—his humility, constancy, and generosity of spirit. Jaiteg Singh has left us physically, but his presence endures. His life was a form of seva.
