On November 24, 2025, millions of Sikhs and admirers across India and the world will gather to mark the 350th anniversary of Guru Tegh Bahadur’s martyrdom — even though historical records show he was executed on November 11, 1675. The disconnect isn’t an error. It’s a quiet act of spiritual preservation. In the shadow of Chandni Chowk, where Guru Tegh Bahadur was beheaded under the orders of Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, the Sikh community chose not just to remember him — but to honor him on their own terms. And that’s why, every year, the date shifts from November 11 to November 24.

The Execution That Changed a Nation

On November 11, 1675, in the heart of Delhi’s busiest market, Guru Tegh Bahadur refused to convert to Islam. He was offered wealth, power, and life — if he would abandon his faith. He chose death instead. Witnesses say he recited the Japji Sahib as the executioner’s blade fell. His body was carried away by a loyal Sikh, Gurdwara Rakab Ganj Sahib now stands where it was cremated. His head, taken to Anandpur Sahib, is enshrined at Gurdwara Sis Ganj Sahib, the very spot where he died.

Why? Because he was protecting others. In the summer of 1675, a delegation of Kashmiri Pandits, led by Pandit Kripa Ram, traveled to Anandpur Sahib seeking help. The Mughal Empire was forcing conversions. The Pandits had nowhere else to turn. Guru Tegh Bahadur didn’t hesitate. He told them: "I will go to Delhi and speak for you." He knew it was a death sentence. He went anyway.

The Calendar That Keeps Faith Alive

Here’s the twist: historians use the Gregorian calendar. Sikhs use the Nanakshahi calendar — a system designed by the Sikh community itself, based on the birth of Guru Nanak. In this system, Guru Tegh Bahadur’s martyrdom falls on 17 Ketak. And 17 Ketak, in the modern Gregorian calendar, lands on November 24 — not November 11.

So why does November 11 persist in academic texts? Because British colonial scholars, working with Persian and Mughal court records, recorded the date as they saw it — in their calendar. But the Sikh community never accepted that date as their own. They didn’t reject history. They preserved meaning.

It’s like celebrating Christmas on December 25 even though scholars believe Jesus was likely born in spring. The date isn’t about precision. It’s about presence. About ritual. About community.

350 Years of Memory, 350 Years of Meaning

This year, November 24, 2025, marks the 350th anniversary — and the Indian government is responding with unprecedented scale. The Delhi government plans a special light and laser show at the Red Fort on November 23, as reported by Jagran Josh citing ANI. Gurdwaras from Amritsar to London will hold kirtans, sermons, and langars — free meals offered to all, regardless of faith.

"He didn’t die for Sikhs," says Dr. Harpreet Kaur, a professor of Sikh studies at Panjab University. "He died for the right of Hindus to pray, for Muslims to worship, for Christians to preach. That’s why his legacy crosses every boundary. He didn’t just defend religion — he defended the idea that religion shouldn’t be forced."

Even the Hindu Council of Australia calls him "the ultimate defender of religious freedom." In a world where faith is increasingly weaponized, his story isn’t ancient history — it’s a mirror.

Why the Confusion? And Why It Matters

You’ll find odd references online — some blogs say November 1, others November 28. But authoritative sources — Britannica, Utsav.gov.in, SikhiWiki — all agree: the observance is November 24. Utsav.gov.in puts it plainly: "It was on 24 November 1675, Guru Tegh Bahadur sacrificed his life for the sake of people who did not even belong to his community."

The discrepancy isn’t about ignorance. It’s about identity. The Sikh community didn’t change history — they reclaimed it. They refused to let colonial calendars erase their spiritual timeline. That’s why November 24 isn’t just a date. It’s a declaration.

What’s Next? A Legacy in Motion

As the 350th anniversary approaches, schools across India are incorporating his story into civics lessons. Universities are hosting symposiums on religious pluralism. And in villages where Sikh and Hindu families live side by side, elders are telling children: "He gave his head so you could keep your prayers."

There are no monuments to Guru Tegh Bahadur in the traditional sense — no statues, no grand palaces. Just gurdwaras. Just langars. Just the quiet echo of hymns sung every morning. That’s his legacy: not stone, but service. Not power, but protection.