The Rose

We were driving to Sadhana (early morning meditation) and Didi was at the wheel. Not exactly the best place for her - since she mostly drove with her closed eyes! My older sister had told me I didn't have to worry because her third eye was always open - but when you are twelve years old, worry becomes your middle name, especially if you have an sister with a princess-syndrome (aka "I am a princess while you, little bro, are a slimy frog" syndrome in psychologists social circles).


But despite my young age (and handsome pimple-less face - ok, ok I had a few but whats a few dozen zits between a writer and readers), I had seen a few things that had convinced me that Didi was no ordinary naami (naami btw means "the one who is imbued with naam - which, btw, means "essence of One WaheGuru").


I know most of you are thinking, this can't really be true - a twelve-year-old can't possibly know so much. To that charge, I admit guilt. Yes, I am only twelve years mentally; biologically, I am forty-something and chemically eighty-something. Psychologically, I have barely just lain down on the couch and spiritually, I am a tiny dot on some ultra-sound result (maybe even just a tiny yellow spot on a pregnancy test). Astrally, I am at the south end of the first chakra of the first chakra; Yogically, I'm just rubbing my hands......


What? Oh, you want me to get back to the story .... I don't blame you ... and being the great listener I am, I will oblige.


But only after I tell you that all of my characters in my stories are a deep metaphor for either things I lacked in my childhood or I had too much of - wow! I can't believe I just wrote that! That's like a major breakthrough... wait a minute... wait a minute... that sentence I just wrote is an exact copy of what I read on a website somewhere... geez, at this rate, I will never have a psychological breakthrough, let alone a metaphysical one (or even a chemical one).


OK, OK, back to the story .. where were we? Oh yeah, in the car, at early morning, with eyes-closed driver-Didi; sister with an advanced case of the princess-syndrome; and me, a handsome young man with more wisdom than a well full of old frogs.


Didi asked, "So what is the importance of early morning meditation?"


Before my sister could give her definitive answer, I ribbited in, "Guru Nanak calls it Amrit Vela. Mrit means death, A-mrit means deathless; thus "Amrit Vela" mean "the deathless time"".


My sister's jaws dropped at my wisdom (thank you, website!) and Didi smiled, "Good job! Of course, the next question now is why it is considered the deathless time?"


Before I could google that (or yahoo it or wiki iti ... wow! I just came up with that - "wiki iti" - told ya I was clever), she asked my sister to read the fourth stanza of Jap Ji:


True is the One, True is One's Name - speak it with infinite love.
Many beg and pray, "Give to us, give to us",
and the Great Giver gives gifts.

So what offering can we place before the One,
by which we might see the True One?
What words can we speak to evoke the True One's love?

In the Amrit Vela, the ambrosial hours before dawn,
chant the True Name,
and contemplate the One's glorious greatness.

By the karma of past actions,
the robe of this physical body is obtained.

By the One's Grace, the Gate of Liberation is found.

Then, Nanak says, we will know that there is none other than the True One.
(Guru Nanak, sggs 2)

Didi had just started to say something about this stanza when we saw tiny ~*sparkles*~ coming from her huge bag (there was this huge bag she carried around - it had enough stuff in it to run an emergency Sikh youth camp). Didi clapped her hands and exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, excellent! I have been waiting for this!"


We all got excited too. (I even forgot to worry that Didi had now taken her hands off from the steering wheel; on the plus side, all her three eyes were open now). She nudged my sister, "Open it and read it quickly! It's a letter from Sukhmandir Kaur - my sakhee!"


My sister opened Didi's bag while explaining to me (as if I didn't already know), "sakhee means spiritual soul mate" and took out a glowing piece of paper which shimmered incandescently, lighting up the inside of our car. We all just stared at it. It was beautiful; its words glimmered, etched in soft light - emanating a mellow blend of bright white and sunrise yellow. Even more astonishing, when my sister read from the letter, its gleaming lights gathered forming to create miniature characters who played out the scenes described.

My sister read, while we listened (and watched)...

~*~*~*~*~*~

A young girl had been captured and enslaved by 5 cruel masters. At first they had appeared inviting and seemed entertaining, but once they had lured her into their trap and caught her fast she knew no mercy. Her life became an unbearable infliction of horrors. No recourse availed her but to seek escape. Heavy chains bound her preventing any possibility of flight so she sought sanctuary in an imaginary garden of her own invention.

One day news came that the King traveled their way. As he passed by, the 5 miscreants threw themselves to the ground - faces pressed into the dirt bowing in subservience. The girl, seeing opportunity, struggled against her bonds. She'd heard rumors of the monarch's mercy and a tiny spark flared in her heart. Hope of rescue prompted her into action. Dragging her heavy chains, she attempted to attract attention to her plight.

The kind king did indeed take notice of her effort and commanded that she be freed and employed in his service. His attendants paid her captors a sum, removed her shackles and carried her away with them to the royal palace. When they left her, she found herself in a bare room built into an alcove of a stone wall. Weary, she sank onto a pallet in a corner and fell into a deep slumber. Hours later she woke. In another corner she discovered a spinning wheel, a loom, and a basket of flax. There were plain provisions provided and a pitcher of water. She ate her simple fare, drank the clear water, washed her hands and set to work.

She had no idea at first of how to go about her task. The gratitude in her heart made her determined however, and soon she found she could twist the long flax stems. With the spindle she fashioned a length of thread which she wound on to the loom and shuttle. By days end she had woven a bit of cloth. She removed this and finished the edges. The sun had set. She finished her provisions and slept.

After a few hours she woke to an enchanting fragrance. Enticed, she slipped through the door of her hut and found herself in a garden. The dark night sky glittered with stars and the moon shone faintly illuminating the landscape before her in pale light. A sultry breeze blew gently. As her eyes adjusted she became entranced for all around her petals opened releasing their scent. Her heart swelled. Overcome in awe at the beauty she beheld, tears formed in the corners of her eyes, not tears like those of yesterday's captivity, but tears of unfathomable joy. She reached for the scrap of cloth she had woven, pulled it from her pocket and dried her tears. She sought for and found a perfect rose. The first rays of morning sun glistened on fresh dew droplets wetting the rose. She plucked the rose and folded it gently into the cloth she had woven, the perfumed essence permeating it.

When attendants came with her morning meal, she asked to be shown to the king so she might express her gratitude. She quickly washed, covered her head and arranged her robe as best she could, then followed them to the throne room. Lowering her eyes she crept to the king's feet. Before him she placed her offering of his lovely sunrise garden's flower petals bloom oozing droplets of perfume, wetted by morning dew mingled with tears. Bowing low, she backed from the room.

Her days and nights passed similarly in this way. Devotedly she spent her mornings weaving, her afternoons tending the garden, and evenings nurturing the rose bush. Every morning before the sun rose she reveled amongst the perfumed petals of the rose garden seeking the most perfect blossom to convey her gratitude to her sovereign. As the weeks passed, unbeknownst her beauty increased the traces of her former life struggles erased by the blooming devotion in her heart. She began to hum during her work making up songs to sing.

Merciful master you freed this slave,
Every wonderful thing to her gave
My king you are perfect in every way
Yet of others you have only good things to say
Your ways are so gentle so sweet and so kind
Desire to serve you is first in my mind

Loving you has given me reason to live
I only wish I had something worthy to give
That I might somehow in someway repay
All the joy that I have in living this day
Your ways are so gentle so sweet and so kind
Desire to serve you is first in my mind

So I offer to you this scented bloom
Upon a cloth woven from my simple loom
Soaked in my tears and wetted with dew
I realize it to be hardly fitting for you
Your ways are so gentle so sweet and so kind
Desire to serve you is first in my mind

You are so gracious to compassionately accept
This boon from one so utterly inadept
Your ways are so gentle so sweet and so kind
Desire to serve you is first in my mind
Your ways are so gentle so sweet and so kind
Desire to serve you is first in my mind

Repeating his name over and again she sang,

Emanating Light
Particles shimmer golden
Floating suspended
Sparkling on soundless waves
In the spectrum of Thy Name
Sultry breezes waft
Scenting the night with perfume
Of a thousand blooms
Intoxicating this one
With the essence of Thy Name

Though the girl thought herself to be alone when she sang, there are many ears in a palace and her songs came to be known to the king. One day when she had come to place her rose at his feet, He bade her look up at him. What he saw in her eyes moved him completely. Her unending gratitude and depth of devotion awed and overwhelmed him stirring him to request that she sit by his side as his bride. She could refuse him nothing although she knew herself to be his inferior and requested only that she be allowed to continue serving him in her humble way. That she might always present to him the budding blooming fragrance of her heart.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Right at the end, when we heard the words "blooming fragrance", a delicate white rose formed in the center of the sakhee's letter. Right before our eyes, it opened up and from it came the lushest, most tantalizing intoxicating scent - we just sat there enraptured by it as it seeped into us. The letter slowly dimmed, but the fragrance lingered on.

A special joy permeated me. I felt wonderful and without want. Although this had been the most fantastic morning in my life, somehow it felt perfectly natural that I should feel this way - this was my inner most right; I was created to feel like this!

After a long time, Didi said, "Wow! That was special. What timing!" It was rare to see Didi so moved. "That Sakhee! Oooh, I am going to send her a big hug right now!" And to our utter amazement, we saw a small glow of bright light come from Didi's heart and streak out of the window into the dark sky!

Me and my sis said this simultaneously, "This can't be happening. Am I dreaming? Ouch! I guess I am not. Didi, what was THAT?"

Didi laughed, "Well, where should I begin? … Ok, the story sakhee wrote in her letter is the story of our soul. The True One has given us so much, what can we possibly give back? The enchanted Guru Nanak says there is one thing that is worthy of the True One and that is one of the most beautiful things that the True One has created and given to us. Do you know what that is?" she asked me.

Normally, I would have thought about this for a long time (before answering "no"), but today the answer came quickly, "The mind."

"Very good!" Didi continued, "That is the gift that is hardest to give - the mind is very difficult to capture, let alone present as a gift. But Guru Nanak says (and here is the essence of this stanza) that we can capture it at Amrit Vela, wrap it with Naam and praises, and present it to the True One. When our gift is accepted, we become the True One's bride and we see the True One permeating all. Then we recognize the essence of everything (including ours) to be

Ik-Ong-Kar - consciousness,
Sat Naam - deathless Truth,
WaheGuru - bliss!"

We drove the rest of the way to the Sadhana in silence. By the time we arrived, it had already began and it was a special one for me - every time I said or heard "Ik Ong Kar, Sat Naam, WaheGuru" I felt the most awesomely soothing wave wash over me. I kept having visions of the rose releasing its scent - every time the rose opened up, I could sense, even taste, its pure scent filling and pervading the room...


My eyes are wet with the Nectar of the True One,
and my mind is imbued with True One's Love, O Lord King.

The Lord applied Truth to my mind, and made it pure gold.
Through the Guru, I am dyed in the deep red color,
and my mind and body are drenched with True One's Love.

Servant Nanak is drenched with True One's Fragrance;
blessed, blessed is my entire life
(Guru Raam Daas jee, sggs 448)

Baba Bakale

The Merchant was a devout Sikh and he loved to recite and explain gurbani (Guru's writings) to the not-so-spiritual-ship-captains like me and even-less-spiritual-sailors like my crewmen. He had hired me along with my Ship and my men a few weeks ago and we had become good friends because of his warm and generous nature. Slowly I had developed a taste for this spiritual truths; the hours spent with the Merchant discussing Guru's words had fast become my favorite pastime.

We had had fair weather throughout the day and my cabin was gently rocking when we sat for dinner when unexpectedly a strong wave slammed into our Ship, throwing us off our seats and onto the floor.

We stumbled up to the deck. I had seen never such a sudden storm. Wave after wave washed over our Ship, beating and hammering it relentlessly, making it roll wildly and groan as though it would split at the seams. The frightened voices of my men could be heard above the howling winds, calling to each other as they struggled to lower the sails. We could see large dark menacing rocks looming along the jagged coastline waiting to break and smash our ship to bits.

Soon, tipping at a crazy angle the ship began taking in water. Before long I stood up to my knees in water - the end seemed inevitable. The morale of the men completely dropped and slowly they all stopped their activity and as if the Merchant could save us all, they started quietly looking towards the him.

He looked back helplessly at us and shrugged; then a sudden inspiration hit him and he knelt down. His lower body submerged, he raised his clasped hands and he prayed, "O Guru Nanak, light that shines in every heart, please have compassion and mercy on us. Please deliver us, for without thee we perish. Please give us the shelter of thy Embrace. Please make it possible for me to return to the Guru a small part of what was given by the Guru. If it is your will that I live, I vow that as soon as I set foot safely on shore, I will come and present to thee 500 gold bars personally. Our safety lies in thy hand, O beloved Architect of destiny, please uplift us and carry us across this dreadful sea. We are surely lost without thee. Thou are the True captain, thy gurbani the True life boat."

And lo and behold, almost immediately, the fury of the storm subsided. A great heave cleaved the waters. Our sinking ship righted and set afloat. The men collapsed in relief (and in awe of the power of prayer). The men looked at the Merchant with even more reverence; and I decided I would visit the Merchant's guru at the first chance I got.

~~~~~

As soon as we made landfall, the Merchant and I set out in search of Guru Sahib. We soon learnt though that Guru Har Krishan, the Sikh's eighth Guru, had recently left the earthly abode. His final words had been "Baba Bakale," indicating the Guruship would be passed to one residing in Bakala.

We made haste for Bakala, but upon reaching there discovered that there were not one, not two, but 22 people claiming to be the true guru. The Merchant came up with a plan saying he couldn't live with the debt of 500 gold bars on his conscience. He decided to give each of the "gurus" 2 bars to see what would happen.

I, on my part, felt extremely disappointed that I couldn't see the Guru right away. I had become thirstier and thirstier for the Guru's sight. I had been reading Jap Ji quite regularly by that time and it's ever-deeper-meanings had been a source for comfort and delight for me. I silently did a prayer in my mind asking that the Guru answer my question "When did the Creator create this World?" with the answer of "Only the Creator knows" (Jap Ji pauree 21, sggs 4). That was my naive plan but that's the best I could come up with (we sailors are not known for sophisticated ideas).

We started our search. The first "guru" (actually rugu, for "ru" means light and "gu" means darkness and these adepts led away from light and into darkness!) we went to was a piece of art! We noticed right off how he sat with his back towards the men and his one wide eye fully on the women and the other on the money in front of him. He would remark, "Oh, that's a wonderful suit you are wearing," to the young pretty women in the congregation, "It fits your slender supple body perfectly!" The Merchant didn't even bother giving this one any gold bars.

I have to say, we did not make a good start. But it did get a little better. One of the tricks we noticed was that when we got close to the rugu's place, the resident rugu would send his agents to meet us and check us out. Seeing the Merchant's royal clothing they would make inquiries attempting to get information. Then they would sneak back and tell whatever they had learned about us. Once we entered the place, the clever rugu would say things like "So how your trip from the sea?" hoping to impress us with his "divine" knowledge.

We caught on quickly and fed the agents ridiculous knowledge about ourselves; one of the rugus, after closing his eyes and then dramatically opening them and looking at the Merchant exclaimed, "You should go ahead and marry Pipia - she really does love you - she will make a great wife and bear you many strong children!" That seemed like pretty good advice, except for small fact that Pipia was my pretty Parrot!

To be fair, some rugus were pretty serious and even had some bona-fide spiritual aura about them. But none could answer my answer correctly; each of them had their pet theories about creation but none of them matched up with what I had read in Jap Ji. Finally we ran out of prospects having interviewed each of the 22 rugus. We returned to our rooms at the Inn, disappointed and feeling quite lost.

~~~~~

The next morning we had breakfast on the terrace and discussed what we should do. The merchant had decided that he would give away the rest of the gold bars to the poor of the city and be done with it. All our humor had abandoned us. In a foul mood we just sat there silently watching people milling about.

Then… we saw a tall man making his way through the crowd. There was nothing extraordinary about him; but there was nothing ordinary about him either. Yet it seemed as though a spotlight shone on him. He walked with a carefree gait that reminded me of Merchant's rich friends, yet he was dressed quite modestly.

The Merchant asked, "Do you see him?" I nodded and kept watching. He turned the corner and disappeared from our sight. That shook us out of our stupor and the Merchant shouted to the bellboy below, "Stop that man!" The bellboy, without looking at the merchant's pointing finger, ran towards the corner where the man had turned. We ran and caught up with him.

He turned to us. His eyes and face were brilliantly lit up. He might have been a disguised King, or a fantastic blissed-out artist of some sort. "How can I help you gentlemen?" he asked in a wholesome voice. We caught our breath. The merchant requested that he join us for breakfast so we could talk. He declined politely saying that he was already late for a meeting. So the Merchant quickly explained that we, "for personal reasons", were looking for the Sikh Guru.

"Oh, there are plenty of those!" he laughed indifferently. Then he narrowed his eyes scrutinizing us intently for a moment. His aloof attitude gave way to interest. He accepted the invitation to join us for breakfast.

He divulged to us that there was one other Guru by the name of Guru Tegh Bahadur Sahib. But warned us the Guru does not host guests preferring instead to remain in meditation. It was this guru he was on his way to meet when we had seen him. Indeed as it was per his daily routine, he would go to Guru before starting his day spending blissful moments in his company. His countenance shone divinely while recounting these details so that we readily believed him.

We begged him to take us along. He kept quiet for a little while, before speaking very deliberately. "I am getting a message inside that I should take you to the Guru!" He looked at our delighted faces and added, "Indeed I felt the same when we were talking earlier but I thought perhaps I had misread the message. But ... I don't wish to sell you anything that you don't want to buy. I will gladly take you to the Guru's house. I will also gladly ask the Guru if you can visit him. But if he says no, that will be the end of our acquaintance. Because it is possible that I am misreading the message from within – I have done so before."

We eagerly agreed and followed him to the Guru's abode. He told us to wait outside on the porch. He entered the door and paused; he looked at me and winked, "The answer to your question is "Only the Creator knows!""

Needless to say, we were overjoyed and waited with abated breath.

He came out a few minutes later, very excited, "The Guru has agreed! This is the first time in years that he has said "Yes" to anyone!" He held our hands and said, "I have been waiting for this for a long time!" We looked at each other; excited and a little apprehensive. We knew this was it. If this turned out not to be the real thing, a misinterpretation had been made of the 8th Guru's final words. A moment later, upon entering, all our doubts left us.

This was indeed the real One!

The tranquility in that place seeped even into an old Sailor like me. Guru Tegh Bahadur Sahib sat alone, eyes closed, quietly absorbed. I had set my eyes on a great many awesome sights in my travels - ocean sunsets, mountain sunrises, exotic waterfalls, glorious Islands, but these paled in comparison to what they now beheld. The Guru was beauty itself! A stunningly overpowering magnetic radiance surrounded him. We stood there for a long time, just drinking the Guru's aura blissfully.

After what seemed an eternity, the merchant moved close to the Guru and bowed respectfully; placing an offering of two gold bars in front of him (the merchant later told me that he already knew this to be the True Guru, but offered 2 bars out of sheer habit). The Guru opened his naam-filled eyes and with a voice that resembled the freshness of an early morning, he mirthfully expounded, "That leaves 498 mohars still owed to Guru Nanak's house!"

Prostrating himself, the merchant grasped Guru Sahibs feet with both hands. Overcome, he wept wordlessly. When finally he could speak, his voice trembled; thanking Guru Sahib profusely for protecting and saving him along with the ship and it's men. "Guru Sahib jee, words are inadequate to express the depths of my most sincere heartfelt gratitude..." he attempted helplessly.

Gathering his composure, the merchant withdrew the five hundred gold mohars tied at his waist. In deep gratitude and undying love, he placed them at Guru Sahib's feet. He spoke reverently saying, "My wonderful, compassionate, kind, generous life-giving Guru, I have been searching so long and have found you at last. Guru Sahib jee, please accept my humble offering. Please accept what is already yours, what rightfully belongs to you. I offer you my all; these are the five hundred gold bars I promised you. They have not been touched. They are for you only, no other!"

I just stood mouth agape in complete admiration as I observed the scene unfolding before me. The merchant straightened up joyfully. He looked in to Guru's Radiance confirming aloud, "I am yours and you are mine!"

Determinedly grabbing me by my arm, he took me up to the rooftop of the house. Waving a flag, he shouted out declaring, "Gur Laadho Rae! Gur Laadho Rae! The Guru has been found! The Guru has been found! I have found Him at last, after searching, I found my TRUE GURU, Dhan Guru Tegh Bahadur Sahib! He has been right here all along. Come Sikhs, come and join me in joyous celebration for I have found the TRUE GURU. Let us together beseech him to come forward now, and lead us to the True One's abode!"

Hearing this, the Sikhs came running, and on evidence of the Merchant's tale and seeing Guru Tegh Bahadur Sahib's naam-drenched eyes, begged the Guru to claim his rightful seat, as their own One True Guru, on Guru Nanak's eternal throne.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Wrong Key

Once, a friend and I were standing in the Gurudwara kitchen hall when a young boy came and asked for the keys to the supplies store - the supplies store is one of the rooms located on the outside of the Gurudwara building.

I fished out the keys and gave it to the boy. He ran off and came back a few minutes later saying, "This is not the right key."

I was quite surprised since that sure looked like the right key. But anyhow, I fished out another bunch of keys and told the kid to try those. He ran off and came back with the same answer.

I asked my friend about it - he took a good look and selected a key from the first bunch and told the kid, "This is the right one for sure. Try to push the door inwards when turning the key. Sometimes it needs quite a bit of strength to open the supplies door."

After several minutes, the kid came back, all puffed up and panting, "No, that was not the right key!"

My friend decided to investigate. He came back smiling.

I asked him, "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing," he replied, "the kid was trying the wrong door!"

~~~~~

There were several excellent morals sent in by the readers for this story and it was really tough to pick one. Perhaps too tough for me, sooooo I picked the top ones and here they are (in no particular order):

Jim Moore (NC, USA)
The moral is to not assume that you know where God's treasure is. As humans we complicate and obscure the truth by inventing rules and traditions pretending religion is from God. Religion is just the door where we try to enter and understand God.
A better ending to the story would have been "the kid was trying the wrong door, but it was not locked anyway!"

RajPratap Singh (Toronto, Canada)
A fortunate few are blessed with the perfect understanding and given the correct perspective for living (the key). But unless we make the effort to practice that knowledge in order to change our habits and outlook (finding the right door) - we continue to suffer, and nothing will seem to work out (wrong door). Having reached nowhere, we will return to question and argue over the interpretation of the teachings (the key).

Reema Dhawan (Winnipeg, Canada)
In my perspective, the right key means that we are spiritual beings from core, that this identity is the real truth (Satnam). So we do have this key and all we have to do this to find the right door. Right door can be found through shabad guru. We keep on keying the wrong door, the door of 5 evils which is wide open all the time.

Rob Abbot (Cary, NC)

Not that the above is "spiritual moral" per say, but it sortive fits in a weird way. The sufficient conclusion is the kid knows that he must use keys to unlock the door. The insufficient premise is he does not know he is lost and the keys will not complete his journey as he is headed in the wrong direction.

Possibly one could say, "be centered / balanced... know where you are and where you are going and get off of autopilot". Like the saying goes, "you can not use the same thinking to solve a problem that was used to create it". The kid seemed to be focused on the keys and not all elements of that situation.

Ok, so I'm not too deep, but working on it. I know there is transcendence and beauty in this situation, but I'm not enlightened enough yet to see it.

My near death experience

Once, I almost forgot my wife's birthday.
<(((:-)>>>

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Priceless Naam

Once Guru Nanak sent Bhai Mardana Jee into a city with a gemstone and asked him to sell it to the highest bidder. Bhai Mardana Jee first went to a street vendor who was selling spicy samosas and showed him the gem. Amazingly beautiful, the flawless stone shimmered and sparkled with inner fire. It completely captivated whoever looked at it. As though they had peered into a mirror where dreams come true, they could almost feel their innermost longing about to be fulfilled - but then what else would you expect from a stone which Guru Nanak had touched?!

The vendor stared into its magnetic magnificence. Unable to tear his eyes away from its spell he offered, "I can give two trays of spiced samosa and fresh milkcake made this morning by my mother's own hands." Bhai Mardana Jee smacked his lips appreciatively, but moved on; quite sure that he could get a better price!

Then he showed it to a merchant wearing expensive silks heavily embroidered with gold threads. Extremely impressed, the merchant rubbed his hands together, his fat fingers bulging with gold rings. He reached beneath his outer garments, took out his purse and counted 5 gold coins holding them out on his pudgy palm to pay for the Jewel. When Bhai Mardana Jee hesitated, the merchant tempted him with three shimmery lengths of colored silk, one vermillion, one azure, and one saffron colored. Smiling in admiration, Bhai Mardana Jee, commented on their luster but shook his head and turned to go. The merchant called after him, "Take these two fine embroidered robes as well," but he kept walking.

Next he entered into a market where the shopkeeper, quite busy with customers, impatiently asked him, "Yes, what can I do for you?" Bhai Mardana Jee showed him the gemstone. The shopkeeper took him aside. He stared at the precious stone for a long time forgetting all about his waiting customers. Tearing his eyes away with a sigh, he looked at Bhai Mardana Jee with new respect and put his hands together with a slight bow, "O Sadhu, I can give you whatever you want. Take anything. Please just name your price!" Bhai Mardana Jee looked around at the variety of goods. Telling the shopkeeper that he might be back after getting an appraisal from a jeweler, he moved on.

He noticed a Jewelry store just up the street and stepped inside. The Jeweler, an extremely spiritual man, had an eye not only for precious quality of stones but for the precious qualities of people characters too. He respectfully bowed to Bhai Mardana Jee and motioned his assistant to bring a comfortable seat and some refreshment for their esteemed guest.

When shown the gemstone, the jeweler lost all his bearings and muttered, "Such beauty! Is it possible that such beauty exists?" The entrancing aspect of both the stone-bearer and the stone itself enchanted him. Focusing on the beauty within himself, he involuntarily closed his eyes, catching a glimpse of his soul. A vision that he had spent his entire life pursuing had been instantaneously revealed.

He opened his wonder-filled eyes in awe and looked from Bhai Mardana Jee's face to the gemstone and back again several times. After several minutes of complete silence, the Jeweler softly clapped his hands. His assistant came forth and he whispered some instructions into his ear. The assistant left returning with a chest which he set in front Of Bhai Mardana jee. The Jeweler pulled a key from beneath his robes and unlocked the chest. He opened it and placed 1000 gold coins in front of Bhai Mardana Jee.

He murmured, "O Great Sadhu, I bow to you and to your Great Guru who has made you so exquisitely beautiful. This gemstone, just like you, Sir, is priceless! I give you this gold as merely a token for the unparalleled pleasure in glimpsing the enticing treasures within it. I cannot, nor could anybody, possibly place a value on this gemstone".

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Tiger vs Tusk

As usual, I poked Prashad Maker to wake him up after the meditation. I wish I knew a politically correct way to say this, but Prashad Maker was fat; very, very fat! As his name applied, he made the Prashad (the good Lard only knows how much of it he kept for himself). While he was waking up from his slumber, a Singh came running and prostrated himself in front of Guru Gobind Singh jee.

"There is bad news, Sire!" he began, "We have just heard that the Moghuls have devised a weapon to break down our Fort's door. They have a very big bull elephant with enormously long tusks. They plan to feed it gallons of liquor all night until it gets reeling drunk and then send him crashing through our gate. Our spies tell us that they plan to attack in the morning!"

Some of us laughed because a drunken elephant seemed so absurd. But seeing the concern on the Jathedaar's (group leader) face, we sobered up realizing this indeed to be a serious situation. We fell silent and looked towards the Guru - he smiled. Something about the Guru's smile made everything worldly seem trivial and we all relaxed, confident things would be ok.

Guru looked around. His eyes rested on Prashad Maker, who shifted a little nervously. Then the Guru spoke, "We will send our elephant to fight theirs!"

All eyes fell enviously on Prashad Maker. For most, to be chosen by the Guru was the greatest honor a Sikh could hope for. But Prashad Maker didn't seem to think so. He nodded slightly. As soon as the Guru left the room, the amply endowed Prasad Maker ambled over to our leader and said, "Jathedaar Jee, it is an honor to serve the Khalsa but I think there has been a terrible, terrible mistake – as you know I am not a fighter and…"

The Jathedaar smiled replying, "The Guru makes no mistakes. Consider yourself blessed that you have been chosen personally by the celestial King!"

"Yes, of course," Prashad Maker continued, "But if I go and WaheGuru forbid, I don't come back; who is going to make the Prashad? You personally have told me on many occasions that no one else knows how to make it as deliciously as I do."

The Jathedaar grew a little impatient and said, "That, my portly petulant perfectionist, can be arranged. You still have the remainder of the night; perhaps you can teach someone your finer prashad-making tricks."

"But," the Prashad Maker continued, "Who will do the prashad distribution if I am gone?" The Jathedaar answered, "I will do it!"

There was silence for a moment before the dismal postulator implored desperately, "But who will eat the left-over prashad, Jathedaar Jee? ... Please save me from this ordeal, please!"

The Jathedaar patted him on the back and said, "Don't worry. The Guru saves everyone!"

~~~~~

The next morning, after Sadhana (early morning meditation) we all looked around for Prashad Maker. His usual leaning-against-the-wall-snoring behind the-ones-performing-keertan station had been abandoned. We soon discovered that he had escaped during the night by tying himself to a rope and lowering himself along the back wall. Alas, the rope could not sustain such an assault and broke before Prashad Maker had finished his descent. His friends hauled him home; his hulk sustaining a dislocated haunch; and hung hamstring, but happy to be not fighting elephants!

Once again we looked at the Guru for guidance. This time his eyes rested on a tall and lean Singh by the name of Bachitar Singh. The Guru spoke, "We will send our tiger to fight their elephant!"

Bachitar Singh, at first, too stunned to react, straightened up; the color of his already Naam-drenched face deepened with joy and bliss. He then stood with folded hands affirming, "Your grace, Sire, can make an ant defeat an army. It is an honor to be chosen …" his voice quivered emotionally and he stopped, lest he break down with joyous gratitude.

The Guru signaled him to come closer – Bachitar Singh knelt down in front of Him. The Guru put his eternal-life-giving hand on the Singh's shoulder saying, "WaheGuru is with you! Bliss, Singh, Bliss!"

I swear Bachitar Singh's sprits rose so high that his feet didn't touch ground as he prepared for battle. Tears freely flowed from his eyes as he sang shabads upon shabads about the greatness of the Guru and the gift of Naam.

At mid-morning, the Jathedaar summoned us stating, "Today, yet again, we are being attacked by an enemy who knows only hatred. But as our Guru has taught us, we fight back – oh boy, do we ever fight back – when the enemy refuses to negotiate, understanding nothing but the sharp edge of a sword!" Saying that he unsheathed his sword which reflected the sunlight into eyes.

A Singh called out a spontaneous jaikaraa (Sikh war cry), "Joo Boooole Sooo Nihaaaal!" (the one who utters the Timeless Truth's name/naam becomes blissful).

And we answered "Saaaaaat Sri Akaaaaal!"

We were ready to face any bloody enemy in the world!

~~~~~

Soon enough, we heard the Moghul forces coming towards us, chanting something or the other and waving their customary green flags. Right up in front, staggered the enemy's drunken elephant almost out of control. Heavily armored, the elephant bore seven iron plates layered on its head for protection. Two sharp spears were tied on the end of its trunk, which he whipped about madly. The heavily shielded driver appeared also intoxicated. He stood atop the elephant, madly bellowing the sorts of crazed things drunks (or men about to die) are known to yell!


The Jathedaar instructed us mount our horses inside the Fort. He then signaled Bachitar Singh to go out through a side-door. It opened just wide enough to let Bachitar Singh charge out. His steed, a dark brown horse, had seen plenty of battles. As it bolted out the door, it seemed surely destined to become a Khalsa in its next life for it had no knowledge that the letters f, e, a, r could be used as a word! Nor it seemed did Bachitar Singh. He rushed towards destiny the way a man rushes home to his newly wedded wife!

The pernicious pachyderms driver sobered up a little bit and sat down when he saw the Singh flying towards him. This was not at all what he expected; one Singh against an army of ten thousand?! He thought the Singh must be mad! No matter; he hid behind his shield. His enemy would know that he, the driver, would be the weak link in the attack. He followed instructions to take utmost care against flying arrows and soaring spears.

But the Khalsa is unlike others! They do not go for the weakest link but strike against the strongest link! And so too in this battle; Bachitar Singh, singing a shabad that we could no longer hear, charged the elephant. The enemy forces shouting slogans proceeded slowly towards our fort. They had either not seen the Singh coming towards them or simply didn't take him to be a serious threat - in reality that proved to be their weakest link and ultimately their undoing! To ignore a naam-drenched Singh flying at you with a long spear with a spiral end (nagini) in one hand, a meter-long sword close to the other, Guru's Words on his tongue and Guru Gobind Singh jee's blessing on the head; is a fatal mistake!!

Bachitar Singh got so close to the elephant that his horse suffered a slight cut from the elephant's sword. Raising his nagini and shouting "gurrrWAH!!" so that all could hear, Bachitar Singh raised his arm. With careful calculation, he speedily took aim. He threw with all his might and every particle of his devotion.

With the blessing of Naam, his force drove the spear so that it split the seams of the seven iron plates. The nagini dug through the leathery skin deep into the beasts' alcohol-addled brain. Not done yet; as he flew past the elephant, Bachitar Singh swiftly stuck his sword stabbing the elephant's right eye. The Elephant reeled up nearly knocking the driver off it's back. It plunged about wildly stomping soldiers on either side. The Singh spun on his limping horse, spurning it on. Coming at the elephant from the left he thrust again. Half blind, drunk, a nagini stuck into its face, the frightened elephant turned attempting to flee from the approaching Singh.

The enemy forces had just begun to catch on to what had happened. Disoriented, they looked back towards their battle leaders for directions; unprepared to deal with this sudden storm of a Singh. Our Jathedaar let out a Jaikaraa war cry. Our Fort doors flew open and we galloped out in force. Like the wind, naam on our lips, and Guru Gobind Singh jee's graceful eyes on our backs; we hurled towards the enemy. Swords slashing, we fought like there was no tomorrow (for them!).

Guru Gobind Singh jee unleashed three gold-tipped arrows . They struck into the enemy generals. The leaders fell with loud thuds - their troupes echoed their cries of fear.

The incoherent Elephant trying to avoid further injury turned, crashing into the enemy forces. Bachitar Singh approached him from behind. Diving into the air, his sword's naked blade in one hand; he grabbed the elephant's tail and climbed up onto his back. The driver, trying to regain his balance saw the tiger of a Singh's red naam-blissed-out face. The sun reflecting off the Singh's armory blinded him momentarily. He put up his shield to block the light and the Singh. The Singh's sword smashed into the driver's shield, knocking it out of his stunned hands.

The driver knew he was no match for the fury of the Singh. He threw his sword down. He knelt on his right knee and lowered his head, indicating defeat. He pleaded for the Khalsa's legendary mercy. The Singh lowered his sword motioning the driver to jump off.

The treacherous driver pulled out a dagger from his belt and raised it to strike. Yes, the Khalsa are merciful but they are not fools! The Singh anticipating this parry gave a hard swift kick behind the driver's left knee. The driver's right leg buckled as he tumbled down head first, screaming in pain and surprise.

As we fell upon the enemy forces, their leaders lay in the dust. The Khalsa controlled their chief weapon which they had so confidently groomed. The crazed elephant stampeded through their ranks. Trunk slashing, tusks thrusting wildly, it tossed and slung them about.

Victoriously we cheered our spirits rising as we sang out in a single voice ...
WAHEGURU JI KA KHALSA
WAHEGURU JI KI FATEH!!!!

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Mai Bhago 3 - Into the light

Reader discretion advised - some of the battle scenes are quite bloody.

Mulling over the situation as they retreated, the Moghuls quickly realized that the main force of the Khalsa lay beyond the pass. They understood that the barrage of arrows had come from just a few in an effort to tire them out and slow them down. They sent out two scouts to get an assessment of the Khalsa's size and positions with instructions to report back as quickly as possible. The Khalsa, expert in this type of war tactics, easily intercepted the scouts.

After about an hour or so, the Moghuls realized the scouts would only be reporting to their maker, and would not be coming back. Frustrated, they needed water quickly otherwise their mission would miserably fail. An extremely impatient young Moghul captain told the chief commanding officer of the assault, an old Moghul general, "Sir, we should charge them. By my estimate they are no more than 50 men strong."

The old Moghul General, who had done his share of fighting with the Khalsa, sighed stating, "That's too many!"

The captain stared at him in disbelief, "Sir, fifty men is too many?!"

The General replied insisting, "50 of them are too many!"

The captain sneered disrespectfully and moved away. The General looked after him with distaste. The General had become more and more disillusioned with his men and with his superiors, who broke promise after promise to the Khalsa. Indeed it had been only a few days ago that the Guru had been promised a safe passage from the besieged Fort. But soon after his departure, the General had been ordered to pursue the Guru. Disgusted with such dishonorable behavior, he wished that he was somewhere else, fighting for a just cause.

The Moghuls capitulated, figuring each minute they lost, the Khalsa up ahead gained to rest and plan their defense around the lake (although in truth each minute took the Khalsa further and further from the reach of Moghul forces). They decided that they couldn't afford to give ground and would overwhelm the Khalsa by sheer brute force of numbers. The eager young captain was given the task of eliminating the small rogue band of Singhs no matter how high the cost of lives to his men.

The captain set fire to the brush along the pass to provide a smoke screen, flush out any Khalsa Scouts and force the others higher into the hills. He decided that the Singhs had to run out of arrows sooner or later. Since he had to lose men until they did, he figured he might as well sacrifice the inexperienced soldiers. He ordered two hundred young recruits to charge through the pass. He assumed the Khalsa wouldn't dare come out in the open to fight this large a force since it would be suicide for them.

The Moghuls forces charged through the pass without a single loss; cheering as they reached the other side. Thinking the smoke had given them all the protection they needed, they broke rank, riding in circles kicking up dust, whooping and hollering in relief.

The Khalsa anticipating this behavior, had mounted their horses and waited just out of sight. Almost out of arrows, they used up their remaining arrows ones taking careful aim. After knocking some sense into the foolhardy Moghuls, they charged the somber soldiers. The captain feeling very foolish for not predicting such a possibility hotly commanded a few dozen more men to join the fight. But there was yet another thing he hadn't predicted - the smoke had cleared making it a lot easier for the Singhs to use their arrows.

Seething, the enraged Captain sent yet a few dozen more men to root out the remaining Singhs from the trees. He needn't have bothered - the Singhs, their arrows spent and the cover of tree no longer of any use, came charging out on horseback.

The Singhs fought courageously but within two hours, more than half the Singhs and most of their horses had fallen.

So, as previously planned by Mai Bhago Jee, they banded into groups of five fighting hand-to-hand. They hoped to engage the enemy long enough for the Guru to get completely out harm's way. For another ninety minutes of relentless combat, the enemy's swords, arrows and spears whittled away at the valiant Khalsa. At last there remained only a small brave band of three Singhs, my husband one of them.

An arrow had struck his right shoulder and his bleeding arm hung uselessly at his side. Obviously in pain, he held his shield with his left hand. He and the other two Singhs crouched back to back; their shields blocking arrows which flew fast and furious from the Moghul hoard surrounding them.

The Moghul captain held up his hand to signal the archers to stop shooting. Quite clearly there could be no escape for the badly injured Singhs. The greedy captain's eyes squinted in anticipation of the glory he should receive could he capture the Khalsa. A feat so exceedingly rare, that it would undoubtedly catapult his career and his monetary worth to unknown heights. He called out to the Singhs, "The game is over for you! Throw away your shields. You have fought honorably, do not resist and you shall live!"

When no response or movement came from the Khalsa, a nerve-wracking silence pervaded the scene. The young Moghuls nervously shuffled their feet. This was the first time that the majority of them had seen the Khalsa up close. Deep within themselves a lot of them questioned their role in this "holy" war. The Khalsa did not look at all like the demons they had been described as. On the contrary, the Khalsa appeared noble, honorable and wholesome. The strength and the endurance of the Khalsa greatly inspired yet terrified them!

The Captain tried another tactic, "Now, now, we are all reasonable men here. I personally give you my word that I will let no harm befall you if you give up the fight. You may live to see many a fine day yet!"

Still, the three huddled Khalsa made no move to surrender. The impatient young captain worried that his precious prize might be slipping through his fingers. Perhaps the Singhs had already perished. Wondering what to do to break the stalemate, he unsheathed his sword and moved a little closer to take a look - an extremely fatal move for his career and his men!

The three surrounded Khalsa sprang up like tornadoes and several logic-defying events occurred instantaneously.

My husband threw his shield at the Captain with all his might bellowing "gurrrrrWAH!" - the motion made him lose his balance and he began to fall. The shield meanwhile hurtled spinning towards the Captain. He ducked, but it cut into his forehead with a loud "thud" snapping his neck with a sound clearly audible (as was the gulping of several young Moghul throats!) As he fell, the sword slipped out of his hand and landed in my falling husband's outstretched left hand!

In the meantime, the second Singh swung his shield towards a nearby Moghul on horseback who held an arrow in his right hand and a long spear in his left. The second Singh tripped over a fallen body and undershot his mark. The spinning shield ripped into the horse's neck, breaking it instantly. The beast stumbled, falling head-first jerking the Moghul forwards. He grabbed the horse's mane with his right hand to steady himself. When it hit the ground, the horses head bounced upwards so that the Moghul leader fell heavily onto his own arrow. It pierced his throat so swiftly that he did not even scream but crumbled silently. The spear bounced on the ground flying towards the Singh who grabbed it in midair!

The third Singh, virtually blind from blood streaming into his eyes, hurled his shield aimlessly. A Moghul saw it spinning towards him and dived onto the ground. It flew over his head. He breathed a sigh of relief rolling over to see where it went. Just as he turned to look, it struck a horse just behind him. The velocity of spinning shield had subsided somewhat. It bruised the beast but spooked it causing it to rear up in surprise. It jumped forward, its flailing hooves striking the surrounding men. The horse came down heavily stamping the ribs of fallen Moghul smashing them to bits. The Moghul's horrifying screams filled the air. He thrashed about waving his sword wildly before passing out and further terrifying the animal. Nostrils flaring, it reared up again. Loosing its balance it stumbled and fell backwards crashing heavily on its rider crushing him. His blood curdling cries further unnerved the surrounding soldiers. The blinded Singh staggered about groping with outstretched hands. Finding his very own sword thrust into a fallen Moghul, he pulled it free, and whirled it menacingly.

Everything occurred simultaneously; so swiftly and with such perfection that it even surprised the Singhs. They stood stunned for a split second not believing what had befallen them. In acting to avoid being captured alive, preferring death, life had been granted them.

The astonished young Moghuls, looked on open-mouthed, bewildered beyond action! They too could not believe what they had witnessed. Their leader had fallen. The Singhs who had been weaponless and all but finished a moment before, now ominously faced them brandishing weapons.

Dread and wonder descended on the troops silencing them. The second in command raised his sword to rally them.

They heard the "whoosh" of a gold-tipped arrow from Guru Gobind Singh jee. They watched it fly past hitting their new leader squarely in the chest. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Completely unnerved, the Moghuls screamed in terror. "These are Gods, not men," they shouted. Running blindly in panic, they stumbled, clambering over each other rushing to get away from these immortal beings!

Revitalized, the three Singhs shouted energetically. "Dhan Guru! Dhan Guru!" Maybe, they hoped fervently, they had a chance to see the Guru after all and ask personally for his forgiveness. Perhaps they might even live to fight with him another day!

Wiping the blood from his eyes with his sleeve, the nearly blind Singh shouted at the other two to run for the cover of the trees. He chased after the fleeing Moghuls, stumbling and falling over dead humans and beasts. But the young Moghuls didn't look back to check on his progress. Hearts in their mouths, they wanted only to escape the baffling madness! They cursed the day they had joined the Moghul army and cursed their leaders for pitting them against such supernatural deathless creatures!

The Moghuls not directly engaged in the fight, had at first thought when the captain stopped the arrows that the ensuing quiet meant the Khalsa had been destroyed. They had turned their attention to other matters, such as counting their dead and planning their next move. When hearing the vocal outburst of jaikara, they assumed it to be the final battle cry of the defeated Khalsa. This proved to be only partially true. For there is no such thing as a "defeated Khalsa"! How could there be when? …

WaheGuru Ji Ka Khalsa, WaheGuru Ji Ki Fateh (The Khalsa belongs to WaheGuru, Victory belongs to WaheGuru)!

Observing a hundred or so of their comrades running away from a blinded Singh, they shook their heads wondering what went in the amrit that the Guru fed his Singhs!

I could see my husband and the other Singh nearing safety as they made their way to closer towards the cover of trees. I could not believe this change of fortune. I cheered them on, shouting with all my might, "Come on! Come on! Only a few feet more!" (I realized fully well that they couldn't hear me but I couldn't keep my excitement bottled up any longer!)

The old General quickly put together a team of expert archers and almost with regret gave them the orders to shoot down the Singhs. He thought to himself, "If only I had one of those Singhs on my side, I would have won all wars!" He wondered what the Guru of such lions would be like. He decided there and then that he was done with this barbaric war in which he had to shoot down such noble warriors. He resolved at the very least to go and meet the Guru as soon as he could. He'd heard of the Guru enemies who after going to see him out of curiosity ending up swearing their allegiance to him. Secretly, he hoped that he might be one of these.

Several arrows struck each Singh before they fell just inches from the shelter of the trees. Besides the arrows piercing my husband's body, he had received numerous cuts at every conceivable place which bled profusely. I felt sad and yet a kind of peace came over me that he had fought so valiantly. He had made the enemy pay dearly. He'd bought precious time for the Khalsa with his life. The thought that my Singh had gone down fighting with such valor lifted my spirits immensely. Mortal bodies must perish sometime - this is exactly how this one had always wanted to go! One against 125,000!

As I looked on, a light-form similar to mine, but much more brilliant, rose and departed from my husband's physical body. He checked out this new dimension of himself, grinning ecstatically! Then he noticed me and winked, "Woman, do you have to follow me everywhere?!" He came close to me, our lights merging.

After embracing me with his luminous form, he ascended, disappearing from my sight. Quite suddenly he returned, still in his brilliant form, but very definitely less ecstatic. He explained he had not been able go any higher because a Guru-less person cannot enter the finer realms! We looked around and we saw all of his party of Singhs in a similar state of dejection.

Down below, the Moghuls forces, after rejoicing in their "victory", moved on towards the lake bed gathering up their dead as they went. They left the Singh's bodies behind lying in the field. This time they proceeded with more caution, sending scouts on ahead to check for ambushes. The scouts soon came galloping back, "It's a trick! The lake is dry!" they shouted.

The remaining Moghul leaders huddled together. They decided to pull out. The Khalsa would have to be eliminated and their Guru captured or killed, another day, and by another group of Moghuls. They had run out of water; and supplies had dwindled. They had suffered humiliating losses. The soldiers' morale already dangerously low, continued to erode with each passing moment. The late hour of day meant darkness would be upon them. No sensible Moghul wanted to face the Khalsa at night! Their legendary uncanny ability to attack and seriously damage Moghul forces had been proven beyond a doubt by the afternoon events! No Moghul leader in his rightful mind wanted the responsibility spending a night even remotely close to a Khalsa encampment. So the old general gave the order to retreat.

The Singhs spirit bodies glowed brightly as they rejoiced realizing what an amazing feat they had helped to accomplish. Against all odds, because of the Singh's selfless sacrifice, the main body of Khalsa, had survived to live another day and fight another battle.

Somewhat uncertain about what would happen next my husband commented, "All is in WaheGuru's will." He used to passionately describe to me how he imagined it would be like in Sach Khand (The Realm of Truth); freedom from worldly care, continual keertan being sung in the presence of naam-imbued souls. Not impatient the least little bit; he knew that only ones who had been fully graced by a perfect Guru could go there. I understood how much he had been hoping to be one of those Sikhs. So we waited... I prayed silently for intervention. Somehow I knew something great would happen...

Miraculously we saw Guru Gobind Singh jee riding into the battlefield where our fallen warriors' bodies lay. I had seen the gloriously and incomparably beautiful Guru many times in my life. But in that moment he seemed perhaps a million times more beautiful.

In addition to viewing his earthly body, we also were blessed with a glimpse of his immaculate inner-self. I believed what I saw to be his soul; although I am ignorant of such matters and unable to distinguish between a soul and light-forms such as we had become. Absolutely stunning to behold, the Guru emanated pure light white as milk. My husband had told me of seeing light within during meditation, brighter than a thousand yellow suns. But his description paled beside the True Guru's radiance.

Around the Guru's brilliance, revolved the living luminosity of millions beings who had chosen to serve the Guru. At a subtle level they circled the Guru twinkling in ecstasy and in awe. Outside the immediate radius of light orbited the glow of beings in human form. These seemed to be naami Sikhs, who after their physical deaths retained their Earthly shapes to stay and watch over the Guru. No worldly words could do justice to the luster of the light illuminating their Naam-imbued faces.

I silently bowed to the Guru and thanked him profusely for allowing me to view him in this way. Stunned, all of the Singhs bowed deeply to the Guru's luminous brilliance. I might have only imagined it but it seemed as though the Guru also gave a slight nod in our direction. I *wanted* a face like the naami sikhs surrounding the Guru. The importance of my previous existence diminished. I knew from that point on, everything would be different. My remaining life's goal would be to get immersed in the light of Naam.

Surveying the battlefield where his fallen ones lay, the Guru jumped down from his horse. He strode quickly to Mai Bhago jee and knelt by her side. Badly wounded but alive, we could hear her moaning "Dhan Guru, Dhan Guru" softly. He gave her water. She opened her eyes to look up at him with wonder. She, like most of us, had never seen him so close before. I could tell from her eyes that she found him breathtakingly beautiful.

His lips drew back in a gentle smile and he exclaimed, "Wah! Khalsa Jee! Wah! You have surpassed my expectations! Ask Guru Nanak for anything and you shall receive it!"

Mai Jee humbly joined her hands, "Sire, I wish to spend the remaining breaths that you have bestowed upon me to serve you and you only."

The Guru's put his hand on her head and blessed her, "Like the moon lights up the way for lost night-travelers, your name will guide and inspire generations to come in this dark age of Kalyug!" He instructed the Sevadaar accompanying him to tend to her wounds and needs.

He then walked to one of the Singh's body. He tenderly turned the bloodied lifeless Singh's face towards him and wiped it with his hand saying, "Wah Singh jee! Wah! You are my 5 hazari! – Honour, Tribulation, Exaltation, Accepted Servant and Dearest Companion." Immediately, the Singh's luminous floating body immensely brightened by maybe five thousand times.

One by one, the Guru took all the fallen Singh's faces in his blessed hands and graced them with gifts that our minds could not comprehend. My husband too received his blessing. Not only did he brighten up but the intensity of my luminous body also increased.

At last he walked over to a body and sat down. Gently he raised the Jathedaar's head and pillowed it on his lap. He turned the Jathedaar's face towards his and wiped it lovingly with his hand; clearing off the dried blood and debris. To all our surprise, the Jathedaar opened his eyes and looked at the Guru's face. He spoke in wonder, "My love! I have found you once more. How beautiful you look in Sach Khand!"

He lifted his hand and touched the Guru's face, stroking it gently with immense love. "Never will I leave you again; you just watch! There is no escape for you now!"

The Guru smiled and kissed the Jathedaar's hand. The Guru's kiss made the Jathedaar aware of his Earthly surroundings. He realized that he was touching the face of the One who is the Lord of this and the unseen world. Quickly he withdrew his hand, thinking he had been too forward with his brash behavior.

Looking at him with love, the Guru lifted the Jathedaar's hand back to his face and held it there pressed against him. The Guru spoke, "You have done well, my precious son! Guru Nanak is pleased with your Sikhi - ask for anything and you shall receive it!"

A tear formed in the Jathedaar's eyes. His voice quivered as he pleaded, "I ask for one thing only, my Sire. Please oh please, tear up the decree! And tell me that I am yours and that you are mine again."

The Guru removed the decree from his waist band. As I watched from above, a great lump arose in my throat. An ache crept over me, I wanted to weep profusely in sorrow and cry aloud with joy all at once. The Singhs moved beyond words, looked on in wonder. The Guru had held on to this dastardly piece of paper and kept it safe even in the battlefield where one keeps only what is most precious.

An immense longing took hold of me and then relief flooded my being as he tore it up into several pieces and threw it into the wind. The Gurus engaged the Jethadaar's eyes with his compassionate gaze as the pieces lazily floated away.

The Jathedaar smiled. He tried to join his two hands to say thank you, or perhaps to say Fateh, for at that very moment, his head fell backwards. We watched his immensely brilliant soul take leave of his body.

My husband turned to me. He smiled, and then disappeared. My heart told me that he had been finally accepted into the dimension that Guru Nanak calls the Realm of Truth.

Mai Bhago 2 - Reflection

I had nearly completed my preparations when my husband woke up murmuring, "Dhan Guru Gobind Singh Jee, Dhan Guru Gobind Singh Jee".

It took him a minute to get his bearings. He jumped up. Seeing me at the door in military regalia seemed to revive the spring in his step. The spark came back into his eyes. He looked like my lover again. He came up to me and took me by the shoulders. He gently pushed my shield to one side and the sword to the other, then took me into his arms. I melted into his embrace, snuggling into his raggedy, dusty, crusty, bony frame and murmured, "I missed you".

He stepped back, still holding onto me, "I love you, and I LOVE Guru Gobind Singh jee. And guess what, he still loves me!!"

He danced a little bit confiding, "I had a vision … or a wonderful dream. I lay on the floor in an extremely cold room next to a fireplace. Several other people with children huddled close to the fire warming themselves, while looking down upon me with pity in their eyes. One child cried out in pain when his hand got burnt by the fire. His father came running in from the outside. He first harshly scolded him, but then embraced him warmly. Then the father looked down at me and it was none other than Guru Gobind Singh jee! He recited

... his father teaches him,
and scolds him so many times,
but still, he hugs him close in his embrace.
(Guru Arjan Dev Ji, sggs 624)

"Yeah, it's true I have royally screwed up. But hey who doesn't once in a while?" This was more like my husband - he always took things in stride, nothing ever got him down for too long.

I asked him, "So what is your plan?"

"Well!" he replied quite importantly, "The first thing I have to do is retrieve my sword from a certain woman who stole it from me while I was sleeping in her bed!"

He took the sword from me and put it back on, "And then I am going to eat many delicious pranthas made by that same woman and then I am going to go kick some Moghul butt! Isn't that a great plan?"

I nodded with relief and happiness! Hearing this exchange Pita Jee knocked at the door and came into the room. My husband just flung himself at Pita Jee's feet. "Please forgive me, father. I am your most ignorant child!" Pita Jee, patted his head apologetically and replied, "I spoke harsh words out of despair, son! I hope you forgive a foolish, raving man!" They hugged each other for a long time.

We got moving quickly after that. While my husband bathed then stuffed himself with quite a few potato stuffed pranthas - a few too many perhaps, if you ask me, to load into a belly that had gone so long without food. The children woke and came sleepy-eyed into the room. Not at first recognizing their Father, they soon squealed delightedly climbing into his lap. They soon became quiet awestruck by tales about the great feats their father had accomplished in the company of the world's greatest warrior. As we rearranged his packs, stuffing in even more dry food in hopes he could slip back into the Fort, we heard a knock at the door.

The Jathedaar (group leader) who had presented the decree to the Guru stuck his head through and looked around. He was a charismatic man and I felt sure that he had played a big part in arranging the 40 men's "liberation". I cautiously greeted him, not wanting him to change my husband's mind.

He asked me, "Where is Bhai Sahib?"

Had his tone been less jovial, I would have sullenly kept quiet or given him a piece of my mind. Something in his demeanor imparted to me his change of heart. I could tell we all belonged to the same "side". I told him everything.

He smiled and announced, "All of the men are going back. I just wanted to let him know that we will be leaving in an hour!" He turned to go.

I called after him, "Wait! Jatehdaar jee, what changed their minds?"

"Oh," he replied, quite eager to talk, "One thing or the other. For me personally, Mai Bhago Jee came and inspired me. Well, actually …once I arrived I felt like the lowest and filthiest most-cowardly creature to ever walk on this Earth! Mai Bhago Jee scolded me reminding me that I am a Singh worth 125,000 ordinary men. I knew her to be a stalwart Sikh, but I never realized how deeply imbued with Naam she was - each of her words pierced straight like an arrow into my heart. And her punctuation, haha, my head barely missed her rolling pin," he laughed, "She told me,

"You sit here at home and take care of the children; and we women will go in your place. We will return with food for our brothers and weaponry to fight with and give our lives if necessary."

I realized that I could make a difference by returning. I couldn't talk her out of coming along too. I pity the Moghul who crosses her path!" he laughed again.

He turned a little serious, "To tell you the truth, even on the way "home", many of us already deeply regretted leaving. In fact, as soon as I handed over that… decree to the Great Guru, we all felt quite forlorn. The further we got away from the Guru, the emptier we felt. All our hopes for better days and lives just vanished. Once we lost it, we realized what the Guru has given us with Naam is life itself! After all this time with the Guru, we took Naam for granted. We only experienced the utter desolation of a life without Naam after we gave it up. Severing our connection with Guru severed our Naam and we became broken men depleted of Naam. I am sure you noticed your husband's empty state? … We felt miserable! Royally miserable! We realized halfway home that a desolate life starving for Naam is far worse than any death from hunger. To make things worse, we had hoped to be welcomed home by our womenfolk and families…"

He fell silent, and then added, "I am extremely sorry. I don't know what happened. I guess the lack of food, sleep and the relentless onslaught eroded our morale. I just don't know … we have gone without food and sleep for extended periods of time before, but nothing like this even cropped up in our minds before. I suppose we fell for the enemy's plan to divide and conquer by offering us a way out. However we will make this work to our advantage and go back fresh and renewed and much wiser to our Gurus Service. The first thing I'm going to do is the burn up that cursed paper that I wrote up!" he paused, "If the Guru has bothered to keep it. Perhaps he gave up on us?" he asked me as if I knew the answer.

This answer I did know, "No! He has not given up on you and never will!"

And so 40 Singhs, and several women who valued certain death beside their beloved Guru over an uncertain life without him mounted their horses. Led by Mai Bhago Jee and the Jathedaar, they rode out singing shabads about their love for their Guru and his inherent forgiving nature.

~~~~

At the back of my mind, I kept wondering (especially when the kids were acting up!) how it would have been if I had gone to battle. It would be such a great feeling to be doing something as noble as defending the Khalsa in it's hour of need.

I pictured myself first fighting bravely and then pleading to the Guru to remove my husband's name from that dreadful decree.

One day, after my chores were done, I sat down thinking how wonderful it would be if my husband could somehow make it back to describe what had happened after he rode away. Of course he had no chance of coming back, but the Guru is mysteriously great…

I felt my eyes drooping and I decided a nap would serve me well. I nodded off. After several minutes of dozing, I woke from my slumber, and discovered myself suspended a couple of feet above my body!

I thought this must be the dream that my husband often talked about finally happening to me. I looked at my floating self with wonder. My body seemed to have no physical substance. Instead a soft radiance gave it shape. I found my clothes most interesting. They seemed to be woven with threads of colored light. I wondered whether our village tailor could manage such a design!

I hovered idly musing for a few moments until a sudden chilling thought entered my mind. Could I be dead?!! I panicked! What about my children? They would be orphans. The instant I thought of them, I found myself looking down on them. I could see them sitting with other children for lessons. They listened drowsily, struggling to stay awake, as their teacher, while swatting absently at flies, droned on and on about some historically great, but boring, personage. I felt very confused. How had I gotten here? Had I truly died? Instantaneously my body appeared beneath me.

I looked closely and noticed it heaving up and down with each breath it took. Then I perceived a slender silver thread linking my transparent radiant body to my sleeping body. I relaxed - deciding that I still lived. I had no idea what to do though - I tried to remember if Pita Jee had ever mentioned anything like this before. Immediately I saw Pita Jee below taking his afternoon nap. He slept soundly as I watched.

Aha! Suddenly I dawned on me. I realized that I traveled by thought in this form. I remembered my husband had mentioned something like this happening to him but I had ignored him at the time. Some of the things he had told to me just had seemed too bizarre to believe. But perhaps in this place, where this form of myself existed, things were indeed peculiar!

Thoughts of my husband projected me over a field above some riders. Looking down I saw my husband riding along with others! I could not believe my luck - I had been wishing for just this.

~~~~~

The sun shone high. Not even a wisp of a cloud graced the sky. Though I couldn't feel it, by the looks of the horses panting tongues, it appeared to be scorching hot. It hadn't rained for weeks. With each step the ponies' hooves kicked up dust which stuck to sweat trickling down the faces of the riders. Sparse dry vegetation dotted the landscape. The Jathedaar signaled the riders to stop under a stand of scraggly parched looking trees. After they had rested for a little while, the Jathedaar and Mai Bhago Jee discussed something quietly and then I heard him say, "Khalsa jee! Time is against us! The Guru will soon be attacked by a large Moghul force. We are all veterans here and I will not lie to you about the dire situation we are in. By the time we get to the Guru, it will be too late. More than warriors, the Guru needs time. We must act now!"

He looked at Mai Bhago Jee. Her voice thundered as she spoke, "It is true that time is against us. It is true that there are 500 moghuls for each of us. But it is also true that the Guru has made each one of us capable of fighting 125,000 of them! Remember Khalsa jee, a single light destroys a roomful of darkness! Remember Khalsa jee, when we took amrit, we first laid down our heads! This head belongs to the Guru and it is time to present it to him!!"

So much Naam reverberated in her voice that the Singhs just stared at her with open-mouthed awe as though a Goddess had suddenly appeared before them! There was silence for a few moments and then a Singh came to his senses and let out a piercing Jaikara (Sikh war cry) that shook the tree leaves… "Jo Booooole Soooo Nihaaal!" The thunderous reply of "Saaaat Sri Akaaaaal" echoed through shivering tree branches across the plain leaving no doubt of the warrior's deadly intent!

Mai Bhago Jee continued, "We have come up with a plan to delay the enemy giving the Guru an opportunity to get into a position where he has a better chance to fight the enemy. Prepare yourselves for the other world!" Impressed with Mai Bhago Jee's Naam spirit, the Singhs would have done just about anything she would have asked and this sounded like a great plan!

After a short search, they found the perfect spot for an ambush, a large clear pass surrounded on either side by low hills dense with trees. They knew the enemy would have to come through this pass for the only other alternative, a route around the hills, would take at least half a day. So they hid themselves among the trees along the way and waited.

From my vintage point, I could see the enemy approaching. I could also see the Khalsa with the Guru up far ahead. They had spread white and blue sheets on the ground bordering a small lake bed. I guessed they did this to fool the enemy into thinking the Khalsa had camped there in yet another warfare trick to delay and confuse their adversaries. Driven by a prevailing thirst, the enemy rushed blindly towards the lake not realizing it had dried up in the summer heat. Not expecting that the Khalsa would camp around a dry lake, the enemy had thrown caution to the wind. They rode ferociously towards the water envisioning an easy victory, abundant water and much-needed rest.

Because of their confidence, the enemy didn't bother sending scouts out ahead to detect any possible ambushes. The summer heat seriously eroded their morale and ability to persevere. The ill-humored, battle weary men and their fatigued horses just wanted their ordeal to be at an end.

The hidden Singhs waited for a few men pass by before they made their move. At the Jathedaar's signal, a volley of arrows whistled through the trees hurtling into the oncoming forces. Stunned, the enemy froze gaping at their fallen comrades in surprise. As a second torrent came raining upon them, they turned to face it raising their shields against the onslaught, waiting for orders from the leaders. A volley of arrows whizzed in from the other side of the pass biting in to their unprotected backs, shoulders and bottoms.

The Moghuls troupes panicked scrambling chaotically trying to get out of range. Their leaders quickly converged to formulate a defense. From an entirely new direction, directly into their midst struck arrow after arrow in quick succession.

Rapidly taking the leaders down, gold-tipped arrows flew arcing from a high mound up ahead where the greatest Warrior ever to walk the Earth stood bow in hand.

The hidden Khalsa cheered enthusiastically, but silently, at this totally unexpected turn of events. The group's confident fighting spirit soared; overjoyed that the Great Guru had come back to help aid them. Only sharp orders against any jaikaras prevented any outbursts of elation. The enemy fell back rapidly fleeing in the only safe direction – behind them!

next part...

Mai Bhago 1 - Liberated One

Amongst great Sikh women warriors, Mai Bhago probably is the most well-known and well-respected. When forty Sikhs deserted Guru Gobind Singh jee during a Moghul siege, it was chiefly Mai Bhago who rallied them to re-seek the sanctuary of the Guru. This story is a first-hand account of the wife of one of those forty Sikhs (who Sikhs remember every day in their prayer as the "chalee mukte" or "the 40 liberated ones").

~~~~~

A sound from Pita Jee's room woke me up. I looked out of my bedroom window at the dark landscape and guessed it to be nearly midnight.

I listened carefully and heard Pita Jee trying to get out of his bed. I got up quickly and ran to his room. Approaching his 90th birthday, he had been getting increasingly weak, but continued to refuse help, doing things his own way.

Pita Jee was my father-in-law. Our love for each other had developed into father-daughter love; and then over time transcended into spiritual-love. When I had come to this house, I didn't know anything about gurbani (Guru's writings). He had patiently taught it to me; instilling the meanings of gurbani into my heart. He wouldn't ever let me read a line without first reflecting on its meaning.

One of his favorite lines was Naam is the cure for all ills (Guru Arjan Dev ji, sggs 274).

He not only evoked it frequently, but lived it too. He had never gone to the village doctor. Instead he relied on gurbani, insisting the true physician is the Guru. Whenever scolded by Mata Jee, my mother-in-law, he would sing My doctor is the Guru (Guru Arjan Dev ji, sggs 618)

If ever he did get sick (which happened more often as he aged), he would simply ask someone (usually me) to read gurbani at his bedside. It never failed to amaze me how gurbani affected him. I could actually see his face change color from pale to bright red after hearing just a few gurbani lines. In fact he used to declare that he only got sick when he didn't get enough gurbani into his blood!

I briefly knocked on his door before entering it – I was right, Pita Jee was trying, quite unsuccessfully, to get up from the bed. I ran up to him and whispered so as not to wake Mata Jee who was snoring away, "WHAT are you doing?"

He held on to my shoulder and said, "I need some gurbani!"

I whispered, "Do you realize its midnight?"

He nodded and after sitting up told me, "There is something very wrong, daughter, very wrong!"

He had been complaining about something being wrong for a few days now and I, for one, couldn't pinpoint anything wrong with him. He ate well, went for his daily walks, discussed gurbani enthusiastically and had slept soundly, up until a few moments earlier.

I sat close to him and asked, "What's bothering you, Pita Jee?"

He smiled weakly, "I don't know, dear one. Just something inside me has dried up. I feel as if my whole foundation has been shaken. I just don't know, I just don't know – I have never felt like this. Perhaps my time has come and this is what it is supposed to feel like??" He looked at me for re-assurance.

Inside, I knew he might be right, perhaps the time had come for him to go, but I smiled and said, "Hey! How will the world survive without you?"

His weak smile reached his eyes this time and he said, "Please read some gurbani."

After reciting Jap Ji Sahib, I asked Pita Jee if he felt any better. He looked sadly at me, "A little better but the … emptiness is still here," he answered clutching his heart - this really worried me.

After giving him a drink of water, I gently put him back to bed. On my way to my room, I heard someone trying to open the back door! My heart missed a beat. At this hour, only a thief would be prowling about! I coughed loudly to warn the thief of my presence. The door swung open creakily.

My hand went to my kripaan (sword), "Oh Guru Jee, please help me!" I prayed.

The intruder stumbled around in the dark; I stood there frozen, wishing the prowler would go away or I that would wake up from this nightmare. The burglar found a lantern and lit it! How daring! I had to do something. I mustered my courage and called out - lowering my voice as much as I could and trying to sound as brave as possible, I demanded, "Who is there?"

"It's me," replied the wavering voice of my husband!

I ran and hugged him. "Oh, my love; you have come back … alive and well!!" He hugged me back weakly. "Let me look at you!" I said pushing him back a little to get a good look at him.

I knew he would be lean and thin after so many months of war and hunger, but seeing the emptiness in his eyes shocked me into complete silence! For a moment, I thought there had been a mistake and that I embraced a stranger. I almost let go of him - I had never seen him like this. The man I held resembled a weak and broken shadow of my husband. Something was horrifically wrong!

He saw the shock in my eyes. I prodded him silently to tell me what had happened to him? He lowered his eyes and asked, "Is there any food?"

In a way, I was glad he didn't tell me right off. I wanted to prepare myself mentally first. As I warmed up food leftover from the night before, I went through all the possibilities of what could have gone wrong. Perhaps he had received some bad news from my village? Perhaps the battle had been lost and the Fort given up to the Moghuls? Perhaps… perhaps.. the Guru had fallen? No, it could not be possible. I would have felt it. Then my heart sank - perhaps this is what had made Pita Jee uneasy! I silently prayed, "O Guru, make me strong."

Pita Jee and Mata Jee had woken up, but quite surprisingly the children still slept. They came and welcomed their son - they hugged him asking lots of questions.

He gave short answers and kept his eyes on the floor. Mata Jee, like always, carried on and on, "Oh, it's so good to see you. You should sleep, my son, you look very tired. You're too thin. Eat something. Ahhh, good! Here's warm food, and your favorite too… perhaps the Guru knew that you would be coming? Eh?" She trailed off into an awkward silence...

My husband ate slowly and silently, looking at the food with apparent disgust. Eating seemed to become more and more unpleasant for him with each bite. He pushed away the plate, leaving most of the food untouched. He tried to get up, but he appeared confused. He sank back down, staring at the food with lost, bewildered eyes. Pita Jee and I looked at each other.

Had his parents not been there, I would have held my husband close and comforted him. I touched his arm and asked, "Sleep?" He slowly nodded and tried get up but just dropped down again. He bent over and put his face into his hands resting his head on his knees.

Mata Jee's face contorted in anguish as she insisted "My son, go to sleep. Whatever has happened, it will feel better after a good night's sleep…."

My husband replied slowly, "No mother, it will not."

Pita Jee finally spoke up, "OK, Son. We need to know what is going on!"

My husband sat in silence. Pita Jee asked the question we all had dreaded asking, "Is .. is the Guru … alright?" To our relief, my husband nodded.

Pita Jee decided that whatever had occurred, needed to be drilled out of his son. So he started his interrogation, "Is the Guru safe?"

"Yes, as far as I know. When we left, he was still in the Fort," my husband answered.

"So why did he ask you to leave?" Pita Jee asked.

No reply came from my husband. This visibly concerned his father. "Answer me!" he almost shouted raising his frail voice.

"He .. he .. did not say to go," my husband stammered.

"What do you mean, he didn't say to go?" asked our perplexed Pita Jee, "You mean you left without permission ... against his wishes?!"

My husband nodded his head. "You don't understand," he replied in a tortured voice, jumping up agitatedly. Suddenly quite animated and verbose, as if a flood gate had been opened, the words spilled out. "Our relentless attackers lay siege to our fort, cutting off our supply routes completely. We went without proper food for months. In desperate hunger we ate whatever we could find - even the trees within the Fortress. We stripped them bare of leaves which we boiled and ate; and fed their branches to our Ponies.

The Moghul forces sent messages offering save passage. They said that we, along with our… with the Guru could leave. The Guru refused. We pleaded with him to go, but without any success. He insisted we would be walking out into a trap. Finally a few of us, 40 to be exact, decided on our own to leave. We didn't want to face a meaningless death by starvation! Our presence only added to the burden of hunger the others faced." He walked over to the window and peered out into the dark night.

"Guru had us sign a bedava, a decree which declared that the Guru is no longer our Guru and we are no longer his Sikhs. We left the very same night …." He trailed off, turned around and sat down as if the last bit of energy in him had been spent justifying himself. He looked older and more worn than even Pita jee, who appeared even more stunned than the rest of us. I could not believe my ears. My mind could not take this in - my husband is no longer a Sikh of Guru Gobind Singh jee?! How could this have happened to a man whose very being revolved around the Guru? What madness drove him to this state?

After a long silence, Pita jee stood up with a fury usually only witnessed in much younger men. He flung the plate of uneaten food at my husband's face. Lentils splashed his face, smearing his beard and dripping to the floor. My husband didn't flinch from the impact nor attempted to clean his beard. He just sat there unmoving and shamed - his eyes still and cold, like 2 black lumps of coal.

Pita jees eyes flared, flaming like two red hot fiery burning pieces of coal. He lowered his voice. When he spoke he trembled with icy reserve. His words contained such impact they cause my husband to recoil.

Pita Jee pointed to the food on the floor. "You gave up Sikhi for this?!" He demanded, "Now eat it! EAT IT!! Eat this and fill yourself to your spineless content! I can't believe that you are my Son! Do you have any idea of the sacrifices my father made to get Sikhi?! You have thrown it away for food you won't even eat. You ungrateful … dog! Lick it from the floor. I am completely shamed by your actions! This family is forever disgraced!"

Then his fury turned to his wife, "I can't believe he came from your womb! Why did we bring such a son into this world? Why?!"

We sat in absolute silence for a few minutes. Even Mata Jee, who had never before let Pita jee go uninterrupted for long, sat unspeaking with a grave look on her face. Pita Jee hobbled over to a wall where his old sword hung. He turned around and said, "You slunk away when you were needed the most by the Khalsa. I," he straightened up "will have to bring honor back to this family!" His frail hands lifted the sword as he determinedly stated, "I will go and fight along the Guru!"

In his youth he had fought alongside Guru Hargobind Sahib Jee. He refused to let old age get in the way of his determination to continue fighting for the Guru! But alas, his aged body could not support his fighting spirit. He couldn't even unsheathe his sword despite many determined attempts. He let it slip from his hands disgusted with himself. He crumbled to the floor holding his head in his hands and wept.

Mata Jee slowly got up; turning to her son she said, "Rest, my son, the Guru will …" she stopped. Usually she would insist, "The Guru will take care of everything," but couldn't bring herself to say it. She went over to Pita jee and helped him walk to their bedroom.

Only I remained in the room with my husband. He looked at me pleadingly. He wanted reassurance from the person who he knew loved and supported him the most. I looked away, my confusion apparent. I couldn't meet his eyes. Wondering how this could have happened to him I took his hand. I cleaned his beard, drew his head on my shoulder and stroked his face. I knew, more than words, he needed my comforting touch. As though I could somehow redeem and relieve his anguish, he clung to me.

I knew from experience that he needed to let go of the grief and guilt clouding his heart before I could talk to him effectively. I felt his body heave as his tears came, flooding from him, shaking his fragile body. Between sobs he looked at me despairingly, "I am so sorry!" he insisted repeatedly. "I miss the Guru so much. I see His face continually. It never leaves me. I cannot sleep or eat. How could I have let him down … how?"

I held him close until all his tears had been released. I helped him up and took him to our bedroom and lay him on our bed.

I whispered softly "Sleep my love, sleep now, we will talk later."

He turned to me and asked me like a child would ask a mother, "What should I do?"

I whispered urgently, "You MUST go back and fight alongside the Guru!"

He shook his head, "No, there is no strength left in me. My Naam has gone! I am but a wasted walking skeleton now."

He wanted to say more but I softly interrupted him, "Sleep my love, sleep."

He slowly drifted off.

I thought about the situation. One thing seemed certain; my husband's wasted body, devoid of spirit could no longer fight. Neither could Pita jee's frail body, despite his devotion go to battle. So … so … I could think of only one alternative. I had to do it! I had the strength. I had vigor, vitality and valor. I would redeem my family's honor fighting alongside my Guru. It seemed so simple, why hadn't I thought of this before?! I felt a smile break across my face like the sun dispelling a dark cloud. In relief, I grinned giddily, gleefully ecstatic.

Carefully removing the sword from my sleeping husband, I put it on. Its weight steadied me. I felt a kind of calm and surety of purpose. Like all Khalsa, I had undergone martial training. My fighting spirit awoke rising within me. Although I had never seen any battles, there is always a first time, I thought to myself - I felt confident in my Guru's guidance. I hummed to myself excitedly. I felt ready to die fighting gloriously on the field of battle.

I heard a knock on the door and Pita Jee walked in. He looked so much older now, as if something holding him up had been taken away. He looked at me wearing the sword, "Yes, yes, that is precisely the right thing to do for you! As for me, I desperately need some gurbani. Please recite something with your angelic voice!"

Eager for the consolation of gurbani, we sang this shabad together:

Relying on your Mercy, Dear Lord,
I have indulged in sensual pleasures.
Like a foolish child, I have made mistakes.

O Lord, You are my Father and Mother.

It is easy to speak of and talk about it,
but to follow your will is the most difficult task
(Guru Arjan Dev Ji, sggs 51)

I couldn't remember the rest of that shabad and so I started another one:

A child who innocently makes thousands of mistakes
is first scolded and then is hugged close in a fatherly embrace;
the father forgives the child's past mistakes
and teaches him the True way for the future.
(Guru Arjan Dev Ji, sggs 624)

After our keertan, Pita Jee felt better; he wearily admitted, "Even this is in the Guru's will!" He stroked his soundly sleeping son's face saying, "Perhaps I spoke too harshly to him." He bade me goodbye and urged me not to see my children before I left, lest I get mired down in attachment.

To tell the truth; thinking of my children made me uneasy with my decision. Yes, I was attached to them, but more than that I worried that they would be raised by a man whose spirit had broken. I always believed that WaheGuru gave children to parents who could help them reach their spiritual potential. I knew my husband could no longer serve as their father in the spiritual sense. But, I rationalized; the children had come to this world with their own destiny. Perhaps they would reach their potential in precisely the situation they were going to be thrust into.

But despite my attempts to encourage and comfort my misgivings, I felt a tug in the deep recess of my heart while I readied myself for the journey. Remembering the starving condition of those besieged, I began packing as much foodstuff as I could carry.

...next part