The first thing you notice is the road. Somebody has swept it — actually swept it, by hand, with brooms, a stretch of public tarmac in Surrey or Southall cleaned ahead of what is coming. Then five men in saffron robes walk past barefoot, carrying swords, and behind them a float banked with marigolds moves at walking pace while a thousand people follow singing. Somebody presses a samosa into your hand. This is ਨਗਰ ਕੀਰਤਨ — nagar kirtan — "town singing", one of the few occasions when the Sikh tradition steps out of its buildings and takes the street with it.

What the words mean

Nagar is the town. Kirtan is the devotional singing of scripture, the central act of Sikh worship. Together, a nagar kirtan is congregational singing carried through the town rather than held within four walls.

That framing explains everything that follows. A nagar kirtan is not a carnival with religious decoration. It is a service in motion: the scripture is present, the singing is continuous, and everything else — the martial arts, the floats, the food — arranges itself around that fact.

The practice has deep roots: Sikh tradition records Guru Nanak travelling and singing publicly rather than teaching from a fixed seat. The modern large-scale form developed over the last two centuries and has expanded enormously in the diaspora.

The Panj Pyare at the front

At the head walk five men in matching robes, saffron or deep blue, each carrying a drawn ਕਿਰਪਾਨ — kirpaan — the sword worn as an article of Sikh faith. These are the ਪੰਜ ਪਿਆਰੇ — Panj Pyare — "the five beloved ones".

They represent the five Sikhs who, at Vaisakhi in 1699 at Anandpur Sahib, stepped forward when Guru Gobind Singh called for those willing to give their heads for their faith. Those five became the first initiated members of the ਖਾਲਸਾ — Khalsa — and they came from different regions and social backgrounds, which was very much part of the point.

The five who walk at the front are not actors. They are initiated Sikhs from the local community, walking barefoot the entire route. Ahead of them the road is swept and often washed, and rose petals scattered. The sweeping is done by volunteers as ਸੇਵਾ — seva — "selfless service" — and is a privilege rather than a chore. Watch for elderly men and small children doing it side by side.

The palki

Behind the Panj Pyare comes the reason for all of it: the Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh scripture, regarded by Sikhs as the living and eternal Guru.

It travels on a ਪਾਲਕੀ — palki — a palanquin. In a village this may be a canopied litter; in a diaspora procession it is a flatbed float banked in flowers, the scripture on a raised platform under a canopy. A ਗ੍ਰੰਥੀ — granthi — its custodian, sits beside it, and someone waves the ਚੌਰ — chaur — a ceremonial whisk — above it continuously, an old gesture of honour paid to a sovereign.

Everything about the treatment of the palki follows from the belief that the Guru is present. Onlookers bow as it passes, and many join the procession at that moment rather than watching it go by.

What follows behind

The rest of the procession is a portrait of the community that organised it. Ragi jathas — musicians on trucks with harmonium and tabla — perform kirtan continuously through amplifiers, so singing is audible along the whole route.

ਗਤਕਾ — gatka — teams demonstrate the Sikh martial art in the cleared road: young people spinning sticks, swords and steel throwing rings to the beat of a ਢੋਲ — dhol — drum. This is often the part children remember and that later brings them to a class.

Then come floats and banners from local gurdwaras and youth groups, dhadi groups singing ballads, sometimes riders from the Nihang orders in tall blue turbans. And finally the ਸੰਗਤ — sangat — the congregation itself, thousands walking, many barefoot.

Langar on every corner

Along the route, tables appear. Then more tables. Then a marquee, a tandoor, a tea urn the size of a bin, and someone's uncle with a ladle refusing to let you past.

This is langar, the free communal meal central to Sikh practice, taken out of the gurdwara kitchen and set up on the pavement. Families, businesses and gurdwara committees fund and staff individual stalls. There will be pakore, chole, jalebi, sweet rice, fruit, crisps for the children, and tea in enormous quantity.

Two things surprise first-time visitors. The first is that it is genuinely free and genuinely for everybody — not for Sikhs, not for participants, for anybody walking down that street, which means office workers, shoppers and delivery drivers all being fed. That universality is the whole point of langar. The second is the volume: volunteers on a major route can feed hundreds of thousands in an afternoon.

Refusing is difficult and mildly futile. It is easier to accept a small plate and be sincerely thanked for eating it.

When they happen

The great occasion is ਵਿਸਾਖੀ — Vaisakhi — in April, marking both the Punjabi harvest and the founding of the Khalsa in 1699. This is when the largest processions in the world take place.

Nagar kirtans are also held for ਗੁਰਪੁਰਬ — gurpurab — the anniversaries of the Gurus, most prominently the birth anniversary of Guru Nanak in the autumn. Gurdwaras hold them for their own anniversaries and local commemorations too.

Surrey, Southall and the scale of it

Outside Punjab, the two largest Vaisakhi nagar kirtans are generally reckoned to be in Surrey, British Columbia, and Southall, west London — with Yuba City, Toronto, Birmingham and Leeds not far behind.

The Surrey procession has drawn crowds counted in the hundreds of thousands, effectively closing a section of the city for a day, with langar stalls lining kilometres of route. Southall's parade winds through streets where Punjabi migration has been visible since the 1950s, past sari shops and sweet centres, with the same combination of scripture, singing and relentless feeding.

Why so large? Partly demographics — these are places where Punjabi families settled densely enough to build institutions. Partly the diaspora's hunger for occasions when the culture is publicly visible rather than domestic. And partly because a nagar kirtan requires no ticket, no invitation and no fluency. You can simply be on the street.

Taking part

Cover your head — a scarf, a bandana, or a ਰੁਮਾਲ — rumaal — a square cloth covering, usually free at the start of the route. This applies to everyone regardless of faith.

You will be walking a public road for some distance, so wear something you can move in. Many participants walk barefoot as an act of humility; this is optional and nobody will comment.

Do not bring alcohol, tobacco or meat products near the procession. When the palki approaches, stand rather than sit, and step back to let it through. Photographs are common and generally fine, but ask before photographing individuals.

And eat something. Somebody stood at a stove at five in the morning for the plate in your hand.

Why it matters

For a community whose worship is usually indoors and largely unseen by neighbours, a nagar kirtan reverses the arrangement completely. The scripture goes out. The kitchen goes out. The street is swept, and then the street is fed.

For a second- or third-generation Punjabi standing at the kerb, that reversal can land unexpectedly hard: something you thought of as a private family matter — a language, a book, a way of making tea for too many people — occupying a public road for a mile, entirely unembarrassed. Most people, the first time, end up walking.