The Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, Canada played host last summer to a spectacular exhibition that had arrived freshly from a stint in San Francisco. "The Arts of the Sikh Kingdoms", which began its journey at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London, was in Toronto for its third and final showing, though each manifestation had had its own character and unique lure.

My level of excitement was shared by at least half-a-million other Canadians: more than 300,000 Sikh-Canadians, of course; and another 200,000 or so Indian and Pakistani Hindus, Muslims and Christians who hail from the Punjab which now straddles two countries on the sub-continent, and who share the Punjabi language and culture with the Sikhs.

Two years ago, it was still uncertain whether this exhibition would ever make it to Toronto and the ROM. So, in the summer of 1999, I made my pilgrimage to

London to catch the exhibit at the Victoria & Albert. The irresistible magnetic pull was, of course, from the fabled Golden Throne of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. London, I quickly re-discovered, was still the ultimate "world-class" city; a microcosm which has managed to acquire and retain within its municipal limits - albeit through the worst methods known to Man - the very cream of the treasures and artifacts of every civilization since the dawn of history.

Lord Elgin, of the Parthenon Marbles notoriety, was not the only kleptomaniac whose services London benefited from. There was an army of them through the centuries, each working on a grand scale with the might and legitimacy of a plundering empire behind them.

Much of the loot they brought home is now housed in an endless march of museums and in the private collections of tottering descendants of the so-called "nobility". The awe and wonder you feel in the galleries of the great British Museum or the V & A, for example, is instantly magnified when you realize that what is available andto the public on any given day is a mere fraction - a very small fraction indeed - of what the very same institutions have, stored in their warehouses that lie scattered around the country.

The Wallace Collection. The Imperial War Museum. The National Gallery. The Royal Collection. The Tower of London museums. And on and on…. Each offers a feast of art and history.

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to convey the gamut of emotions I experienced when I finally saw the throne at the V & A. And the original of the William Simpson watercolour of the Akaal Takht. Kashmiri carpets from 17th century Lahore. Winterhalter's portrait of Maharaj Dalip Singh. Intricately embroidered, feather-light Pashmina shawls. Emily Eden's sketches of the Sikh Royal Court. Arther Schoefft's oil-paintings of the Princes. The "Timur" Ruby. George Richmond's portrait of Queen Jindaan.

The brilliantly curated exhibit transported me from one century to another, from one rich chapter to the next. And, I wondered: if this represents only the tip of the iceberg, imagine the wealth that awaits in line to see the light of day.

The most obvious one is, of course, the Tower of London and the Crown Jewels. Therein
	lies probably the most famous diamond in the world: the Koh-i-noor - the Mountain of Light. It had adorned the young Maharaja Duleep Singh, when he was captured by British forces upon the fall of the Sikh Empire. He was summarily separated from his mother and shipped off to England. He was alone and 10 years old. The Koh-i-noor was

Victoria promptly had the Koh-i-noor reduced in size. The official explanation was that it needed polishing and improvement. The fact was that the Royal family was terrified by the rumours of a curse, and by the trail of tragedies and disasters that followed it everywhere.

Today, the main jewel sits in a British Crown, amongst the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. The pieces removed from it in order to diffuse the curse, I'm told, are set in the Royal Orb and Scepter.

London is full of such stories, no matter what interests you personally. When I was younger, I found them heart-breaking: especially the fact that everything that was plundered anywhere now sits in this alien land, far from where they belong. Now that I am older and wiser (?), I have now moved closer to the other end of the pendulum.

Frankly, I am now glad all these wonderful things were taken to England, even though I say this with a heavy heart. You know, much of what was left behind in many of the countries around the world has simply ceased to exist.

The most recent tales emerging from Cambodia, of the ongoing destruction and plunder of the Angkor Wat, are as heart breaking as any. Increasingly around the world, but particularly in poverty-stricken countries, whatever survives the ravages of time and local greed and corruption is now dwindling and disappearing at a frightening pace. The British, at least, have a sense of history and understand the need to preserve it - even though they often recorded it through a distorting lens - like no other nation in the world.

Everything they took has been saved, numbered, catalogued and stored.

For this, I am eternally grateful.

The other day I read Khushwant Singh's plea to Prime Minister Vajpayee of India, urging his government to pursue the return of the Kohinoor. To India?

For heaven's sake! Does Khushwant Singh read his own books? The brilliant History of the Sikhs, for example, that he wrote four decades ago. Or the one on the rise and fall of the great Sikh Empire.

The Kohinoor was taken from the Sikhs and their Emperor. Why should it come back to a political entity called "India" which did not even exist when the Kohinoor was swiped from the child Emperor? In fact, India - as we know it today - has never, ever even existed prior to 1947 as a unified political entity in the form it exists today. It simply has no history prior to 1947. The "Indian History" you and I have been brought up on is nothing but the sum of the histories of scores of different, unrelated nations.

"Indian History" today is what "European History" would be if the history of each country in Europe was now re-written from the new perspective of the European Union, and all of them collected together under the single rubric of "European" history.

So, are we talking about the Kohinoor's return to the Sikhs or to the Indians?

Does Khushwant Singh have any clue of the nefarious activities of the Indian Government missions abroad (Embassies, High Commissions, Consular and Trade Offices) and the manner in which they actively, aggressively and unabashedly oppose anything which is positive or supportive of Sikhs and Sikhism?

If he doesn't, it isn't his fault. Sitting in India, it is difficult for Indians to visualize what is done abroad in the name of India and on behalf of Indians.

I suggest they speak to Sikhs abroad - not Khalistanis, not human rights activists, but ordinary Sikh-Americans, Sikh-Canadians, Sikh-Britons, Sikh-Malaysians - and find out how brilliant an idea it is to entrust India with Sikh treasures.

Then, of course, there is the issue of the Sikhs themselves. Let us assume - and this is not beyond the realm of possibility and probability - that the Brits would be willing to hand back the Kohinoor to the Sikhs themselves. The problem then arises: to whom amongst the Sikhs?

My suggestion is that we do not lose sight of the fact that Sikhs the world over are currently going through a challenging period, probably one of the most challenging in their relatively short history. They are in survival mode. Understandably, there is no single entity, institution or body, which is ready to take the responsibility of receiving back its plundered treasures.

Once again, with a heavy heart - but without any reservations whatsoever - I propose that our treasures, including the Kohinoor, remain in Britain. Please. Please don't send anything back to India, for heaven's sake.

What has India done, for example, with the treasures and the legacy the Brits did leave behind in 1947? Think about it.