The OCeeker: Guru Nanak Sikh Temple and the Headwear Mishap

Everybody loves a play on words, ye heathen, so let's get this outta the way real quick-like: The OCeeker transformed his glorious person into the O'Sikher on a recent Wednesday night in Buena Park, when his graceful footfall blessed the grounds of Guru Nanak Sikh Temple of USA.

He committed one fuckup, but avoided a major one, thanks to a friendly Sikh.

The O'Sikher arrived at the gurdwara--the place of worship for Sikhs--with his typical crooked grin and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his kiss-stained lips. Upon entry to the sacred space, he noticed a sign instructing visitors not to feed the birds. The O'Sikher obliged, but apparently committed a more egregious error by inhaling a coffin nail in the parking lot. 

According to the temple's website: Individuals intoxicated by alcohol, drugs, tobacco or other narcotic substances are strictly prohibited from entering the gurdwara premises. Strike one against the affable apostle.

He strolled confidently toward the white and square temple with a golden dome, having dispatched the lung dart and turned off the Ill Bill. Sikhs milled about the outside of the temple, and their slick-haired visitor joined in cleansing his hands in the sink, and placing his Chuck Taylors in a little cubby.

All was well until the O'Sikher headed up the steps and toward the the darbar--the hall where Sikhs perform their rituals. 

"Hey boss," said an elderly Sikh, who followed the journalising jester. "Put on your kippah."

Now, the O'Sikher don't hardly ever marvel, but a feller like that using the word "boss" was pretty much awesome sauce. Why he referred to the headwear as a kippah remains a mystery, but yer boy quickly noticed a bucket of  'em near the sanctification sink. Sorely tempted to tie that bad boy on Tupac-style, the O'Sikher refrained from such immaturity, and gladly donned an orange head scarf properly. 

Reminded of the do-rags he wore when poppin' and lockin' to Lovebug Starski, the O'Sikher felt like a cancer victim but hoped he looked like Orlando Bloom's Will Turner. One glimpse in a mirror revealed that your humble O'Sihker resembled a Caltrans safety cone. Oh well, on into the darbar he danced.

The darbar was rightly divided into two halves, with the lady Sikhs on the left side and the sack-swingin' Sikhs on the right. This is awesome, and should be practiced everywhere, ye heathen. Guys are closer to God anyways, and they don't need to be disturbed by gossip and talk about shopping. 

Sikhism, which is the belief in one supreme being who can be found in all religions, began sometime in the 15th Century in Punjab (now Pakistan and North    India), which is home to the Great Khali, a former WWE world heavyweight champion. His finishing move is the "Punjabi Plunge."

The religion was founded by Guru Nanak Dev, who eschewed Hinduism and Islam and had a private meeting with the deity. Eventually, there were 10 gurus, if you don't count the one from Gang Starr. The 10th teacher, Guru Gobind Singh, formed Sikhs into the Khalsa, a spiritual family where men share the last name Singh, meaning "lion," and women share the name Kaur, meaning "daughter of kings." Maybe Calvin Broadus will change his name to Snoop Singh.

The 11th  teacher is actually the Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh holy book known as the Adi Granth

At the Buena Park temple, Sikhs walked the aisle, and bowed before the Guru Granth Sahib, which sat under a canopy. Some gave little offerings. Sikhs don't have a priest, but a granthi sings hymns, known as kirtan from the Guru Granth Sahib. The O'Sikher had no idea what was being said, so he sat like a little Dalit in the corner of the room. Unlike other religions practiced locally, adherents at the temple didn't fake the whole "so glad to have you here" crap. Nay, ye heathen, they gave your guru the ol' "what the fuck, really?" look. English-only visitors would have a hard time understanding any of the service.

This gave the O'Sikher time to stare at stuff: the beads that fell from the ceiling, reminding him of Papa Seeker's partying days, when beaded curtains were all the rage, and Molly Hatchet flirted with disaster; the flower bouquets that hung on the walls; what appeared to be tapestries of scriptures pinned here and there.

When the granthi got done, a man and woman got down to some music. The gal played a harmonium and sang, while the guy banged away on some bongo thingies. She was hot, and pretty much got the O'Sikher's cobra to dance.

She was eventually replaced by a young fella in an "I Love India" shirt. He and the man were then replaced by three dudes in white garb, green turbans and Kimbo Slice beards. They resembled a kinda Crosby Stills & Nash, and by the time they got to Woodstock, the temple was a half a dozen strong. The women wore traditional dresses with covered heads and shoulders. Most of the guys wore whatever they had on from work or school.

After 45 minutes, the O'Sikher skedaddled. He gave the kirtan five out of five question marks, having a better handle on Vijay Singh's golf swing than whatever the hell happened at Guru Nanak Sikh Temple of USA.

The Guru Nanak Sikh Temple of USA meets several times a week at 7122 Orangethorpe Ave. in Buena Park; (714) 670-8843;

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