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)