Wednesday, March 15, 2017

The blessings of langar - A story from Paonta Sahib

Guru Nanak says, "As long as I sing, I live, As soon as I forget, I die. So how can I forget?"  Here is a story to prove Guru Nanak lives and sings among us ... 

'Huge blessing in small virtues'
- by Maj Gen SPS Narang (Retd) in The Tribune:

Huge blessing in small virtues

Last November, I was driving back to Dehradun from Chandigarh — a fascinating four-hour journey, with the added attraction of visiting Paonta Sahib Gurdwara. I had to break on the way to give myself and my car some rest. And what better than entering the abode of the Guru. Besides the soothing kirtan, it is the langar that one savours, seated on the floor among a multitude of people from all walks of life. Some partake of all meals as they have no means to satiate their hunger. Breaking bread with them gives an indescribable spiritual high, and to experience this, one doesn’t have to belong to any one religion.

I, too, enjoyed the langar and came out to get on with my journey. I stopped to buy some knick-knacks from a kiosk outside the gurdwara. Just then, I spotted a family of Gujjars in an intent discussion in front of a tea vendor. The family comprised an elderly couple, two middle-aged couples and four children. Three women were partially veiled. They seemed poor as the eldest gentleman (probably the father) counted coins and some crumpled notes. Undoubtedly, the issue was how much they could afford to buy.

They asked for three cups of tea and four samosas. Gathering courage, I asked him, “Kya aap sab khana khayenge?” They looked at one another with a mix of surprise, apprehension and a hurt self-respect. There was silence. Sometimes, silence can be loud. The innocent eyes of the kids were filled with hope. “Hum kha ke aaaye hain,” he responded. There was an instant retort, “Kahan khayaa hai subeh se kuch bhi, Abba?” Hearing that, a dull ache in my chest caught me by surprise. The stern look in the eyes of the three men and the pleading moist eyes of the women said it all. I insisted that they come with me. They agreed, reluctantly.

We entered the gurdwara. A good feeling descended over me as I deposited their shoes at the jora ghar. The elders were awed by the architectural marvel. However, there was fear in their eyes, which was understandable. They were entering a non-Islamic place of worship for the first time. But the children couldn’t care less, their innocent faces single-mindedly focused on food. Some onlookers flashed strange looks from the corner of their eyes. But then I followed the children, adopting their easy attitude as they excitedly chose head wraps of different colours.

Except for the eldest member, all accompanied me inside, and emulating me, bowed their heads and touched their forehead to the floor. Many others must have noticed, as I did, that these children went through this ritual with utmost reverence. They took parshad from the Bhaiji who asked them if they needed more. The children gladly nodded.

We entered the Langar Hall and I took the kids along to collect thaalis. They did it with joy, like only kids would. Seated opposite us was a newly-married couple. The bride, with red bangles accentuating her charm, asked the children to sit beside her, and two of them sat between them. The way she was looking after them, I could tell she would make a loving mother. Langar was served, and though I had already eaten, I ate a little to make my guests comfortable. One had to see to believe how they relished it. The initial apprehension had vanished and they ate to their fill. I have no words to describe the joy I experienced. The only thing I recall is that my heart was pounding against my rib cage.

We had nearly finished when an elderly Sikh and a youth with flowing beard (perhaps the head granthi and sewadar) sought me out. I was overcome by fear, and more than me, my guests were scared. I walked up to them with folded hands. He enquired, “Inhaan nu tusi le ke aaye ho? (Have you brought them in?).” I nodded. The next question had me baffled, “Tusi har din path karde ho? (Do you read scripture every day?).” I almost blurted “yes”, but it would have been a lie. So, with utmost humility I said “no”. Expecting an admonishment, he surprised me, “Tuhaanu tha koi lorh hi nahin. Aj tuhaanu sab kuch mil gaya hai ji (You don’t need to. Today you have got everything).” I was flabbergasted. Was it advice or sarcasm?

He added, “Inha nu Babbe de ghar lya ke te langar khva ke tusi sab kuch paa laya. Tuhaada dhanwad. Assi dhan ho gaye (By bringing them to the Guru’s abode for langar, you’ve got everything from God. Thank you. We are blessed).” Then, with folded hands, he walked up to the elderly couple and requested them, “Aap jad bhi idhar aao to langar kha ke jaaiye. Yeh to uparwale da diya hai ji (Whenever you happen to pass through here, please come and have food. It is God’s gift).”

I escorted my guests out of the Langar Hall. Just as we were about to pick our footwear, one of the children said, “Humme aur halwa do naa.” We five went in to get more parshad. Finally, as they were about to depart, the elderly lady whispered to her husband. I enquired, “Koi baat, Miyaji?” Almost pleadingly, he said, “Yeh keh rahin ki, kya aap ke sar par haath rakh sakti hain? I bowed as she blessed me with tears in her eyes. A wave of emotions swept over me.

Is it my imagination, or for real, that I often feel the beautiful hand of a Muslim lady, wrapped in purity and love, on my head?

Monday, March 13, 2017

O survivors of the fire of the womb ...

Image result for fire of the womb

Human birth is a wonder.  There are so many improbabilities that are to be overcome for everything to happen smoothly.  It is a miracle how smoothly things have gone for so many of us on earth. 

Father's seed and mother's blood came together in the fire of the womb to conceive a baby.  And while everything else gets digested in this abdominal firepit, this baby is nourished in the womb for several months. Can you imagine living in a slimy, dark firepit with your head turned upside down. The baby not only survives but thrives in this treacherous place. How?

The baby gets saved because it remembers Satnam, the essence of the truth.  The baby does not have an ego. The baby does not think that he is the doer. The baby acquiesces. The baby completely surrenders to the will of God. In that sense, the baby does not forget God for an instant.

Every birth is a victory among a terrible fire.  Every life has the same opportunity ... the opportunity to win in battle in this burning world.  Those who forget oneness, lose the battle of life. There is no peace for the forgetful.  Peace is found in the remembrance of oneness. Peace is found in the singing of oneness.

O survivors of the fire of the womb, remember that the human birth was a wonder to start with. This life can also become a wonder if you remember to sing the song of oneness.

(From Jaitsri ki vaar by Guru Arjan Dev)

pauVI ] (706-6)pa-orhee.Pauree:

rkqu ibMdu kir inMimAw Agin audr mJwir ] (706-6)rakat bind kar nimmi-aa agan udar majhaar.From egg and sperm, you were conceived, and placed in the fire of the womb.

(nimeya:  nee rakhna, laying a foundation, foundation of birth = conception, like in bhand jamiyeh bhand nimiyeh in Asa ki vaar)

aurD muKu kucIl ibklu nrik Goir gubwir ] (706-7)uraDh mukh kucheel bikal narak ghor gubaar.Head downwards, you abided restlessly in that dark, dismal, terrible hell.

(bikal -from vyakul, confused)

hir ismrq qU nw jlih min qin aur Dwir ] (706-7)har simrat too naa jaleh man tan ur Dhaar.Remembering the Lord in meditation, you were not burnt; enshrine Him in your heart, mind and body.

ibKm Qwnhu ijin riKAw iqsu iqlu n ivswir ] (706-8)bikham thaanahu jin rakhi-aa tis til na visaar.In that treacherous place, He protected and preserved you; do not forget Him, even for an instant.

pRB ibsrq suKu kdy nwih jwsih jnmu hwir ]2] (706-8)parabh bisrat sukh kaday naahi jaaseh janam haar. ||2||Forgetting God, you shall never find peace; you shall forfeit your life, and depart. ||2||