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My wife, The beautiful one!


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My wife, the beautiful one

I came in from the fields and found my wife sleeping, her head was down on the table, and there was some papers in her hand. Without disturbing her I gently removed them and read what she had written.

She wrote:

"Everything has been changing so suddenly, I don't know who to tell, there is no one to tell, but I must tell someone, so I am just writing this to myself to try to organize my thoughts, to try to find some sense, to all the changes, recently, in my life.

My husband had been acting so strangely, weeping and talking about sleep and death. Then he met this unusual man, Sat Kartar Singh. This man is a Sikh. He wears a beard, and has uncut hair which he keeps bound in a turban. After this meeting my husband was much calmer, less disturbed, happy even, but still nothing has ever been normal again in the usual sense.

We went for keertan, to this Singhs home. The music was very beautiful, it wrenched my heart, and made me want to weep, I didn't say anything, because I felt so strange, and the children's father seemed so happy I didn't want to break the spell.

Then a few mornings later he went running from the house. When he returned he seemed calmer, he told me we were going to a sikh gathering.

The smagham had the most unusual effect on me. It is hard to describe, but I must try. It has changed my whole life...

I met a very unusual woman there. She was a Singhni. I think she was the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life. Her face was radiant and glowed with sach light. Her eyes had sach depth, when I looked into them it was as though the universe opened up its mysteries to me. This woman Bibi ji, was unlike other woman, her face was covered with hair like a young man, soft black and curly. She sat quietly and greeted me quietly and softly. From the very first I was drawn to her. So many were staying at that gathering, she asked me to come and sleep with her and the other ladies. My husband joined the men, and children went off with others their own age.

Bibi ji slept completely covered with a black lo-ee. Or I was never sure that she was sleeping, she was so still. I found myself yearning to be like her. Like the Singhs she also kept her hair bound in a turban. I thought of all the women in my village, with their jewelry, make up lipstick, and nail polish, silk dresses, and artificial finery, none were so beautiful as Bibi ji. She had only 2 changes of clothes, very simple, one blue, and one white, and the ever present black lo-ee.

In the morning everyone began getting up very early, I heard strange sounds, as though there were many lovers, I was frightened and covered my face with my blanket. I slept very late. No one disturbed me. Later Bibi ji came to take me to the langer. I saw my husband there. He greeted me "Waheguru ji ka khalsa Waheguru ji ki fateh" I had never heard these words spoken before. I smiled and nodded.

I asked Bibi ji what the words meant. She said this is how Singhs greet each other.She told me when Guru gobind Singh the father of the Khalsa gave Amrit, he told Singhs to greet each other in this manner. I was even more curious. She explained about Guru Gobind Singh and Guru Nanak. I asked her "How does one become a Singh?" She said they must be given Guru jis Amrit, that is baptized.

Just then a very fierce looking Singh, carrying weapons, entered the langer. I must have looked alarmed, She said not to be afraid. He was our protector. Then she explained about the Siri Guru Granth Sahib. There was so much to learn. But I was so thirsty to hear everything. I can't explain even now, to my self what was happening to me. It was so bewildering. I just knew I did not want to leave Bibi jis side.

She said "Lets go to the keertan." She did keertan for one hour, the same 4 lines over and over,

Gurmukh pi-aaray aa-e mil, main chireen vichhunnay raam raajay. Mayraa man tan bahut bairaage-aa, har nain ras bhinnay. Main har prabh pi-aaraa das gur, mil har man mannay Haon moorakh kaarai laa-ee-aa, naanak har kammay

"I am unworthy. I am unworthy of your love."

She was weeping. I was weeping. A beautiful young girl wiped the tears from her face as she sang. I wondered where her children and husband were. It was obvious to me that she was in some sort of deep mourning. I thought she must have lost a child. I learned later that this was mourning was called "vairaag" by the sikhs. It meant deep and urgent longing for the guru. I felt so much love for her.

That evening when we went for sleep. I asked her if she would wake me too, in the morning. She agreed, then, disappeared beneath her lo-ee.

I was sleeping face down, I heard "waheguru waheguru" just as I turned, she touched me, I gasped. An electrical current shot though my body shocking me. "Are you ok ?" she asked. I replied only that I had been startled. How could I explain?

She led me to the showers, "isnaan", she said. During her bath she kept on some of her clothing. I was surprised, she said these are kachara, and kirpan, they are a part of me given to me at baptism I can never be separated from them... She explained more about the baptism, how one never removes hair and must keep a comb, and kara also, with one at all times. Her hair, kesh, fell to her knees gleaming as she washed, oiled, and combed it.

Beside her I felt utterly filthy, to my soul. I started weeping, I couldn't stop my self, "No amount of water can ever clean me," I sobbed. She put her arms around me, lovingly and said, "Guru can wash you clean in an instant, when you receive His Amrit."

We went to join the others. "Waheguru Waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru" Every one together, in once voice was calling "waheguru"; it was very comforting.

When I met my husband again , I said," I want to take the Amrit." He looked deeply into my eyes and smiled. It felt as though he touched my soul.

The thing is since baptism I have undergoing so many changes. Nothing has been easy, everything has been very difficult, and sometimes a real struggle. Those three hairs, I had plucked from my chin before, have turned to fifty. All my facial hair has gotten darker and much heavier. I don't know what to do. I feel so hideous, and yet there is my Masters face looking back at me when ever I look in the mirror.

Some of my closest former friends are shunning me. I know it is not because they do not love me., They are uncomfortable, and so am I. But my farmer comes in from the fields happy now. He looks at me and says, "I feel so alive." He tells me I am beautiful and the daughter of Guru Gobind singh, but it doesn't stop the shame. The singhs give me so much love and treat me as their sister. But inside I see the beautiful smooth faces of other women, and I feel disfigured. Bibi ji was special, she had courage, I am not like her. I want to cover my face in shame. I weep into the ramalas and plead with Guru ji, for what? To make me like other women rather than like Him. I can't ask for that, and so I just weep and feel ashamed. I feel like I am being punished for all my past misdeeds. Sometimes, I don't know how I can bear it.

We went to another smagham. A young girl was washing feet. I heard her say, "Who is she she? She is so beautiful." Later she met me and said, "They say you practice a different kind of Sikhism." I replied, "There is only one Waheguru, What is different? We both love Him. Sikhism is Sikhism." I wanted to tell her , "Yes, do AMrit vela, do waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru. Do Naam simran." But I couldn't say anything.

I felt beautiful, but I know that I am not. It's just vanity , this body is corruption, and it is rotting away. Nothing matters to me any more but Naam, and my Kakars and Paath. I can't be separated from them, it would kill me. Literally I would die. Slip back into a partial person, not fit to be called human, consumed in pain, always trying to anesthetize myself with fruitless activities.

It is a struggle to wake up and do Paath. Sometimes we are so sleepy, we want to go for the bed, but we look at each other and remember how it was before, that is enough to wake us up again. I envy those born to this path, so pure and innocent, they don't feel the traces of dirt..."

I put the papers down, and woke my wife, I pulled her into my arms, and looked in to her eyes, *HE* looked back at me.

"I didn't know, you should have told me. I have been so selfish, thinking everything was me all this time. I thought you just did this for me. Forgive me."

We both started weeping in to each others arms. "It will be ok, we'll get through this with waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru." Then we were weeping and laughing together.

The children came in and found us. They just looked at us like we were crazy,

"What's for langer?" the little one asked.

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the whole story's from Naamnet. here's the whole thing. (i hope i dun get in trouble for puttin this up. :S)

satgur jaag jagaindaa

Part I - The Sleeping Queen

Startled, I woke up. I was sweating and breathing heavily. Then I remembered where I was. With relief I said out aloud, "It was just a dream."

Immediately my maid came and asked me if I needed something. I looked lovingly at her. She was more than just a maid; she really was my best friend. She had known me for over twenty years now. Quite alarmed at the sweat on my face, she said, "What is wrong, my queen?"

I murmured, "Just a bad dream."

She started, "You shouldn't have eaten that spicy food. That cook needs some sense..."

Best friend or not, I was in no mood for her gossip. I interrupted, "That will be all."

She gave a short bow and with a feigned hurt look, left. I calmed myself. The dream had been so real! I silently tiptoed into my little prince's chamber. He was sleeping quite peacefully. I went close and softly kissed his cheek. He stirred and dreamily looked at me and mumbled, "Ma."

I kissed him again. He looked a lot older than seven years. He looked up and asked, "When is papa coming home?"

Trying to sound confident, I said, "Soon, my child, soon."

"But Vazeer had promised he would be here by last month." Vazeer was the chief minister and it was no secret that he was the one who was really running the kingdom.

"Go to sleep, my son. Your father will be here soon." He smiled at me and went back to sleep.

I returned to my bed and silently prayed for my king's well being. He was a gentle man and had brought peace to the land after decades of bloodshed. But a few months ago, a small rebellion had broken out in the southern province and it was decided to send soldiers there to break it. The king too wanted to go. I had begged him to not to go, but Vazeer had advised that the king's place was with his soldiers. I had given up. After all, it was only a small battle. To re-assure me, Vazeer had sent all but a third of our soldiers with the king.

But now I was quite worried. The king hadn't written for weeks and just this morning in the court, a messenger had come and asked me to send the remaining soldiers to the battlefront. I asked him why the king had not written; he replied that the king was busy. But he re-assured me that the battle was almost over. I didn't want to send all the soldiers but Vazeer had said that it was absolutely needed. Once again, I trusted him and did what he said. Only fifty soldiers remained behind.

I was about to go back to sleep when I heard a knock on my door. I was surprised and asked who it was. Vazeer answered. He opened the door. He had never been to my chambers before. I knew there must be something urgent.

"What is it?" I asked. He was a man in his fifties. His beard was grey but his mind was the sharpest in the kingdom.

He replied, "Nothing, my woman." I was shocked to hear his reply; all my subjects referred to me as "queen".

I raised my voice, "What do you want?" Without replying, he came and sat on the king's favorite chair.

"You," he said. "WHAT?"

He laughed. "You are now my queen."

I had enough of him. He probably had too much wine in his blood.

I called out, "Guards." The guards didn't come. I shouted out again, "Guards!" Still no one came.

Vazeer softly said, "Guards." Immediately, two of my guards came and bowed to him. A cold chill went up my back.

Vazeer said, "My dear, I am afraid, there has been a little change. The king is dead and has been dead for a month now."

I screamed out, "You are lying!" I ran to the window and shouted to the sentry. "Come here at once!" They looked at me without moving.

Vazeer laughed again. "Please understand your position now. You no longer can command."

I looked at him. I clearly understood why he had insisted that the king go to war. It had been his plan to have the king killed. He softly said, "Guards, behead the prince now."

My body shook with fear. "NO," I screamed, "Please no!"

The guards started going to the prince's chamber. I ran up to them and tried to hold them back. One of them roughly pushed me away. I fell down and with a loud thud, the back of my head hit the wall...

Part II - The Sleeping Thief

Screaming, I woke up. Instinctively, my hand went to the back of my head. Surprisingly, there was no blood there.

The gang member sleeping next to me angrily slapped me for disturbing him. The slap brought me back to reality. A sigh partly of regret and partly of relief escaped my mouth. I wasn't a royal queen, rather just a street thief. I lay down again and thinking how real the dream had been, dozed off.

That night our gang busted open a jewelry shop. Unluckily for us, the police was in the area. Before we realized it, they were upon us.

I ran as fast I could. I was at an advantage because it was night time and I knew the streets. After all, I was born and raised on them.....

My mother had died at my birth. Of course, nobody knew who my father was; it is hard to keep track at a brothel. Why my mother had chosen to give me birth is a mystery which I still haven't solved.

My mother's friends had more or less brought me up; my real friends, though, had been the streets and the gang I had joined when I was nine years old.

I was now twenty two and was a wanted man in many places. It was a matter of pride for me to see my picture at police stations. It always gave me an unexplainable exhilaration to walk by a police station and look at my picture.

To date, I had never seen the inside of a jail. My friends told me I was lucky, but I told them that it wasn't luck, but skills that kept me free.

But today I wasn't feeling so sure about my skills. I had had too much to smoke the previous night and I was feeling quite disoriented.

My foot slipped on the pavement. I fell down and hit my arm heavily against the gutter.

I was still recovering when a police officer came and grabbed me by my neck. There was no hope now. I would be badly beaten and would see the inside of a jail for months or even years.

I cursed him.

The police officer was breathing heavily. After a few minutes, he made me stand up and strip off my clothes; right there on the street! I protested; he gave me a slap and said, "Do as you are told, sewer rat."

I spat at him.

I felt his baton hit the right side of my skull...

Part III - The Sleeping Farmer

I woke up with a cold sweat. Instinctively, my hand went to the right side of my head. Surprisingly, there was no scar there. Then I remembered who I was.

I jolted up in my bed. That too had been a dream! I looked around. My wife lay by my side, snoring softly.

I touched my face. It was covered with sweat. I tried to calm down. I got out of the bed and drank a glass of water. I then looked at my children's peaceful faces. But my heart kept on beating wildly.

I was walking back to my bed when a paralyzing thought arose within me: "Am I dreaming?"

This thought shocked me so much that I sat down right there on the ground. I touched my arms and legs. They felt real enough. But so had the police officer's baton and the prince's face.

Dizzily, I walked back to my bed and tried to sleep. But I was too frightened to sleep.

In the morning, my wife and children were alarmed by my state. I no longer cared to say anything to them. Just the thought, "Am I dreaming?" kept eating away at my heart.

I didn't go to the farm that day. What was the use? It was not real, why did I need to do anything when I knew it would soon end.

That day, I spent many hours in front of the mirror looking closely at my face. I tried to see if it had any similarities with queen's and the thief's face. But none existed.

Everyone and everything told me I was not dreaming. But my eyes told a different story. I looked deeply into them and saw only sleep in them.

My wife and children were greatly troubled by my low spirits and tried to cheer me up by talking about the expansion of the farm which I had been passionately pursuing, but I couldn't help but laugh at them.

I looked closely into their eyes and even in them, I saw nothing but sleep invasion.

That day went slowly. I sat on the bed waiting for the dream to end. I no longer knew who I was. Was I the thief? Was I the queen? Was I the farmer?

That night, my wife held me closely and tried all her charms to bring back her farmer. But I was too frightened of the world and no matter how hard I tried, I could not open up my fears to her. That night too, I could not sleep at all. Next morning, my wife suggested we go to the temple and visit the pundit.

I beamed at the thought. My family and I used to visit the temple on the full moon's night and I vaguely recalled the pundit saying that we were all living in a dream.

I could not wait to get to the temple. The pundit must know about my problem and would surely have a solution.

Next morning, my wife and I walked to the temple. She was pleased to see me happy again.

But my happiness was short lived: as soon as I saw the pundit, I knew something was wrong. One look into his eyes told me what it was. He was sleeping too! In fact, he seemed to be sleeping even more deeply than I!

Greatly depressed, both of us returned home.

This depression only got deeper by the day. My wife and children were visibly frightened of me and there was a heavy silence in the whole house. They talked in hushed voices and avoided me as much as possible.

I wanted to open up to them and tell that they needn't be frightened - this was a dream after all, but the truth was I too was deeply frightened. In fact, the lack of sleep and cleanliness had left such marks on my face that it frightened everybody!

I spent my days in bed or in front of the mirror. Even though my wife forced food into my mouth, I become weak and quite yellow. After five days, I was so weak that I had difficulty getting up from my bed.

Depression hung over me like never before. That night at sunset, I did something I had never done before - I prayed.

The pundit had said that all prayers are answered. Of course, I hadn't believed him then and I believed him even less now, but there was no other hope. So I knelt on the side of the bed and prayed,

" Creator, please wake me up."

I was quite surprised to hear these words come out of my mouth. I surely hadn't planned to say them; they had just come quite spontaneously. I felt a little better and a little lighter.

My prayer was answered the next morning.

Part IV - Sat Kartar Singh, the awake one

I was laying in my bed and I heard a man singing. He sang,

gurmukh jaag rahe din raati

sache kee liv gurmat jaati ||

manmukh sooea rahe se loote

gurmurkh sabat bhai hey || (panna 1024)

The Gurmukhs remain awake and aware, day and night.

Following the Guru's Teachings, they know the Love of the True Lord.

The self-willed manmukhs remain asleep, and are plundered.

The Gurmukhs remain safe and sound, O Siblings of Destiny."

This song struck an arrow into my heart. I felt truth in these words. I knew the creator of this song knew about my state. It seemed that the singer was singing directly to me.

I jumped out my bed and barefoot, ran to the man singing this song.

The man was a middle aged man. He looked like a farmer. I ran up to him. He stopped singing and looked at me. The first thing I did was look deeply into his eyes.

Yes! He was awake!

I hugged him and he hugged me back. His hug broke the depression within me and I started sobbing. Without a word, he stroked my back. Finally, my tears dried up and I looked into his eyes again. It would be wrong to say they were beautiful. They seemed so unnatural. I had never seen such eyes. They appeared not to blink.

I asked, "Am I dreaming?"

He replied, "Yes."

With my breath held short, I again asked, "Is there a way to wake up?"

Again he replied, "Yes."

"Please show me the way."

An indescribable light I had never seen before flooded his eyes. He sang,

soea rahe maya madh mate

jaagat bhagat simrat har rate || (panna 388)

"The mortals are asleep, intoxicated with the wine of Maya.

The devotees remain awake, imbued with the Lord's meditation."

I hadn't heard so much beauty before. His song was monsoon for me. I felt nourished and green again.

After that song, there was a short silence.

Then I humbly asked about him. His name was Sat Kartar Singh. He as a sikh of Guru Nanak.

I briefly told him about my state of affairs. And asked him how I could become a sikh too. He told me that he was a having a keertan at his house in a week's time and he would answer all my questions then.

He also told me start working again since working was a part of being a sikh.

I thanked him and went home and took a long nap. My wife and children thankfully hugged me and with laughter, my life started again.

I eagerly awaited the day of meeting with Sat Kartar Singh again....

Part V - Keertan, the awaker

As I went about my duties on the farm my soul was soaring, over and over I heard the words:

soea rahe maya madh mate

jaagat bhagat simrat har rate ||

"The mortals are asleep, intoxicated with the wine of Maya.

The devotees remain awake, imbued with the Lord's meditation."

running through my mind. It was hard to be patient.

At last, the day for the keertan came, the day when I would again meet with Sat Kartar Singh. Carefully we prepared, bathing and dressing in our finest clothes, we approached the home of the farmer Sat Kartar Singh. He greeted us and motioned us to sit close to the people performing the keertan. Looking around I noticed right away, that the others who came for the keertan were dressed very simply.

Sat Kartar Singh sat in front of the vaja, he closed his eyes and began to sing. It was the same hymn a first heard him singing, the answer to my prayer:

gurmukh jaag rahe din raati

sache kee liv gurmat jaati ||

manmukh sooea rahe se loote

gurmurkh sabat bhai hey ||

"The Gurmukhs remain awake and aware, day and night.

Following the Guru's Teachings, they know the Love of the True Lord.

The self-willed manmukhs remain asleep, and are plundered.

The Gurmukhs remain safe and sound, O Siblings of Destiny."

I felt as if he was singing just to me, just for me. I couldn't take my eyes from his face, It was incredibly beautiful, bathed in light, it made me want to weep inside, that there could exist sach beauty, all over again my longing started.

As he sang, the light around him increased its glow, until it shone so brightly that all the others in the room seemed pale and transparent, almost unreal and unmoving. It was as if only the two of us existed, and were real, the others were merely a back ground on which we were painted, in golden bright light.

After an undetermined amount of time, his song finally came to an end. I was filled up inside with his beauty. I longed to ask him many questions. He just looked at me with his deeply aware, awake, eyes and nodded.

Part VI - Maya, the enticer

She wears a red dress, a strapless gown,

golden hair cascading down

her back

She smiles, holding you in her gaze

you find yourself slipping in a daze

and smile back

She holds a crystal goblet full of wine

invitingly, she suggest you dine

together

knowingly she offers you her fare

partake, and you won't be going anywhere

She's Maya the enticer

The Witch, she's got you in her grasp

She inflames your desire until you long to clasp

and serve her, receive her kiss

Seductively she draws you close, and closer into her embrace

don't look too closely at her face

her eyes reflect her master, She's Jyams mistress

He walks into the room, Bearded, Turbaned, a quiet man and small

Yet His very presence fills the hall

with One word he breaks the spell

*Waheguru* the party's over

Slowly you rise from her bed

a bit confused, you shake your head

to clear it, you disengage the Lady in Red

un-disguised, disfigured now, she looks a monster

wearing as ornaments deaths necklaces

of charred bones and rotting corpses

her smile the grimace of deaths many faces

The Scavenger

You pull away and scream

"This is a Nightmare, a disturbing dream.

Rotting filth, I want to be clean, I want to be clean of the

Corruption."

I woke up trembling, this dream had been the worst of all. I looked over at my wife where she lay next to me sleeping, and saw a shimmering of red sequins glimmering, and sparkling, I sat up shaking,. I stumbled from my bed and ran through the dark streets to the house of Sat Kartar Singh. The sun was just beginning to rise, as I reached there. He was standing in His doorway waiting for me. I cried out, "How can I be free from her, How can i be cleansed of the corruption and filth?"

He answered calmly, "You must do Isnaan with Guru Sahibs Amrit. Then only can you be cleaned and free from the clutches of death."

He told me to start getting up early in the morning before the dream time, and gave me a small bound volume to read. He said this book contains the medicine you need to keep the dreams away, if you read it every day as the sun is rising, the dreams will stop.

When i returned home, i told my wife to get ready we were going to a Smagham, a gathering of Sikhs. She looked at me puzzled, her eyes were full of death. Her coral earrings, looked like tiny dancing skulls, I looked away, What was that word I had heard in my dream? Waheguru. I repeated it mentally, waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru. I would have to ask Sat Kartar Singh what it meant.

Part VII - My wife, the beautiful one

I came in from the fields and found my wife sleeping, her head was down on the table,

and there was some papers in her hand. Without disturbing her, I gently removed them and

read what she had written.

She wrote:

"Everything has been changing so suddenly, I don't know who to tell, there is no one to tell, but I must tell someone, so I am just writing this to myself, to try to organize my thoughts, to try to find some sense, to all the changes, recently, in my life.

My husband had been acting so strangely, weeping and talking about sleep and death.

Then he met this unusual man, Sat Kartar Singh. This man is a Sikh. He wears a beard,

and has uncut hair which he keeps bound in a turban. After this meeting, my husband was

much calmer, less disturbed, happy even, but still nothing has ever been normal again

in the usual sense.

We went for keertan, to this Singhs home. The music was very beautiful, it wrenched my

heart, and made me want to weep, I didn't say anything, because I felt so strange, and the children's father seemed so happy I didn't want to break the spell.

Then a few mornings later he went running from the house. When he returned he seemed calmer, he told me we were going to a Sikh gathering.

The smagham had the most unusual effect on me. It is hard to describe, but I must try. It has changed my whole life...

I met a very unusual woman there. She was a Singhni. I think she was the most beautiful

woman I have ever met in my life. Her face was radiant and glowed with sach light. Her eyes had sach depth, when I looked into them it was as though the universe opened up its mysteries to me. This woman Bibi ji, was unlike other woman, her face was covered with hair like a young man, soft black and curly. She sat quietly, and greeted me quietly and softly. From the very first I was drawn to her. So many were staying at that gathering, she asked me to come and sleep with her and the other ladies. My husband

joined the men, and children went off with others their own age.

Bibi ji slept completely covered with a black lo-ee. Or I was never sure that she was sleeping, she was so still. I found myself yearning to be like her. Like the Singhs she also kept her hair bound in a turban. I thought of all the women in my village, with their jewelry, make up, lipstick, and nail polish, silk dresses, and artificial finery, none were so beautiful as Bibi ji. She had only 2 changes of clothes, very simple, one blue, and one white, and the ever present black lo-ee.

In the morning everyone began getting up very early, I heard strange sounds, as though there

were many lovers, I was frightened and covered my face with my blanket. I slept very late. No one disturbed me. Later Bibi ji came to take me to the langer. I saw my husband there. He greeted me

"Waheguru ji ka Khalsa

Waheguru ji ki Fateh"

I had never heard these words spoken before. I smiled and nodded.

I asked Bibi ji what the words meant. She said this is how Singhs greet each other.

She told me when Guru gobind Singh, the father of the Khalsa gave Amrit, he told Singhs to greet each other in this manner. I was even more curious. She explained about Guru Gobind Singh and Guru Nanak. I asked her "How does one become a Singh?" She said they must be given Guru jis Amrit, that is

baptized.

Just then a very fierce looking Singh, carrying weapons, entered the langer. I must have looked alarmed, She said not to be afraid. He was our protector. Then she explained about the Siri Guru Granth Sahib. There was so much to learn. But I was so thirsty to hear everything. I can't explain even now, to my self what was happening to me. It was so bewildering. I just knew I did not want to leave Bibi jis side.

She said "Lets go to the keertan." She did keertan for one hour, the same 4 lines over and over,

Gurmukh pi-aaray aa-e mil, main chireen vichhunnay raam raajay.

Mayraa man tan bahut bairaage-aa, har nain ras bhinnay.

Main har prabh pi-aaraa das gur, mil har man mannay

Haon moorakh kaarai laa-ee-aa, naanak har kammay

"I am unworthy. I am unworthy of your love."

She was weeping. I was weeping. A beautiful young girl wiped the tears from her face as she sang. I wondered where her children and husband were. It was obvious to me that she was in some sort of deep mourning. I thought she must have lost a child. I learned later that this was mourning was called "vairaag" by the Sikhs. It meant deep and urgent longing for the Guru. I felt so much love for her.

That evening when we went for sleep. I asked her if she would wake me too, in the morning. She agreed, then, disappeared beneath her lo-ee.

I was sleeping face down, I heard "waheguru waheguru" just as I turned, she touched me, I gasped. An electrical current shot though my body shocking me. "Are you OK ?" she asked. I replied only that I had been startled. How could I explain?

She led me to the showers, "isnaan", she said. During her bath she kept on some of her clothing. I was surprised, she said these are kachara, and kirpan, they are a part of me, given to me at baptism, I can never be separated from them... She explained more about the baptism, how one never removes hair, and must keep a comb, and kara also, with one at all times. Her hair, kesh, fell to her knees gleaming as she washed, oiled, and combed it. Beside her I felt utterly filthy, to my soul. I started weeping, I

couldn't stop my self, "No amount of water can ever clean me," I sobbed. She put her arms around

me, lovingly and said, "Guru can wash you clean in an instant, when you receive His Amrit."

We went to join the others. "Waheguru Waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru" Every one together, in once voice was calling "waheguru"; it was very comforting.

When I met my husband again , I said," I want to take the Amrit." He looked deeply into my eyes and smiled. It felt as though he touched my soul.

The thing is since baptism, I have undergoing so many changes. Nothing has been easy, everything has been very difficult, and sometimes a real struggle. Those three hairs, I had plucked from my chin before, have turned to fifty. All my facial hair has gotten darker and much heavier. I don't know what to do. I feel so hideous, and yet there is my Masters face looking back at me, when ever I look in the mirror.

Some of my closest former friends are shunning me. I know it is not because they do not love me., They are uncomfortable, and so am I. But my farmer comes in from the fields happy now. He looks at me and says, "I feel so alive." He tells me I am beautiful, and the daughter of Guru Gobind singh, but it doesn't stop the shame. The singhs give me so much love and treat me as their sister. But inside I see the beautiful smooth faces of other women, and I feel disfigured. Bibi ji was special, she had courage, I am not like her. I want to cover my face in shame. I weep into the ramalas, and plead with Guru ji, for what? To make me like other women, rather than like Him. I can't ask for that, and so I just weep and feel ashamed. I feel like I am being punished for all my past misdeeds. Sometimes, I don't know how I can

bear it.

We went to another smagham. A young girl was washing feet. I heard her say, "Who is she she? She is so beautiful." Later she met me and said, "They say you practice a different kind of Sikhism." I said, "There is only one Waheguru, What is different? We both love Him. Sikhism is Sikhism." I wanted to tell her , "Yes, do AMrit vela, do waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru. Do Naam simran." But I couldn't say anything.

I felt beautiful, but I know that I am not. It's just vanity , this body is corruption,

and it is rotting away. Nothing matters to me any more but Naam, and my Kakars and Paath.

I can't be separated from them, it would kill me. Literally I would die. Slip back into a partial person, not fit to be called human, consumed in pain, always trying to anesthetize myself with fruitless activities.

It is a struggle to wake up and do Paath. Sometimes we are so sleepy, we want to go for the bed, but we look at each other and remember how it was before, that is enough to wake us up again. I envy those born to this path, so pure and innocent, they don't feel the traces of dirt..."

I put the papers down, and woke my wife, I pulled her into my arms, and looked in to her eyes, *HE* looked back at me.

"I didn't know, you should have told me. I have been so selfish, thinking everything was me all this time. I thought you just did this for me. Forgive me."

We both started weeping in to each others arms. "It will be ok, we'll get through this with

waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru." Then we were weeping and laughing together.

The children came in and found us. They just looked at us like we were crazy,

"What's for langer?" the little one asked.

Part VIII - Bibi ji, the gurmukh one

Just when it seemed that my suffering was at and end, when I found what it was that was missing from my life, when I was to be fulfilled, it was then that my true suffering began.

Early in the morning as I had been instructed by Sat Kartar Singh, I would wake, take bath and begin my prayers. It was difficult at first because everything was so strange.

My wife I and discussed the matter and thought it would be a good idea if we could get some one to help us learn at first. Some one to teach us and guide us, we were so ignorant.

We went to a Rainsubhai keertan. The melodious sounds had us entranced. When my eyes were closed it was as if fairies were dancing in gold dust, just beyond the field of my vision. When I opened them, and glanced across the room, I saw that Bibi ji was sitting with my wife.

Later during the langer we had a chance to speak. We discussed our situation earnestly, My wife was all for inviting Bibi ji to be our guest for some time, so we could have the opportunity to learn from her. Bibi ji agreed that there were some small things she could help us with. Like the proper pronunciations of the scriptures, as well as the proper protocol to observe if we were to bring Baba ji into our home.

Sat Kartar Singh was to have a keertan in his home and she agreed to come at that time.

My wife became very excited, it was obvious she had a deep regard for Bibi ji. When the appointed time came, we went to the keertan. Sat Kartar Singh motioned us to sit close to him, even my wife was invited to sit with him, although very few women ever sat with the ragis. I felt very honored and insisted that she do so, even though she was shy to. Bibi ji sat with her. We really didn't know the words, but when they sang "waheguru waheguru waheguru", we joined in whole heartedly. We were given small rhythm instruments to keep time with. And I closed my eyes to enjoy.

A pain began to start in my heart. It rose into my throat, and I felt as though I would suffocate from the weight of it. It could not even be released into tears, and I felt as though it would overwhelm me.

I do not know Gurubani. I have no idea of the words being sung or their meaning. In my life time, how can I ever hope to understand. How could Bibi ji or Sat Kartar Singh or any mortal being ever make a difference. How could I ever hope to grasp an inkling of what Gurubani means.

Images started floating through my mind, I saw immensely large stone feet with brilliantly red colored flowers, sprinkled in offerings, scattered on them, and smelled the scent of incense burning. I could see worshipers bowing, and prostrating themselves before them. I felt a breeze blowing gently soothingly, fanning away the heat of my distress. I heard the words, " Kar Kirpa Har Charnan Dhi-aa-ee." In an instant my distress returned, What did it mean? What were these words.?

Afterwards, on the way home I whispered to my wife what I had seen, and the words, Bibi ji looked into my eyes, hers glittered like diamonds in the darkness, she spoke softly, and said "Bless me that I may dwell upon Thy Feet." My heart exploded, and I turned my face away into the night as the tears finally began to come. Waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru, i heard her repeating slowly, softly with her breath, waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru, we joined her. waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru....

Part IX - Sant ji, the knowing one

It is curious, the closer I get to God, the further away I feel. In the beginning I felt so close, but now I feel like I am completely worthless of His love.

We have decided to bring Baba Ji to our home, we are not sure of how, or when, or even where we will will put Him, when He comes, so I guess it would be more accurate to say we want to. One problem is we can't decide whether to bring the old fashioned, or modern scripture.

I was plowing my field, rehearsing going over and over in my mind, what to say, who to tell how, to say it. Actually I hadn't really discussed this with any one, not my wife or Bibi Ji, or even Sat Kartar Singh.

But every morning in my prayers, I begged Baba ji to come. It was He, more than anyone, I was talking to now. Baba Ji, please help us to find the proper respectful place for you. I don't know how we will even read your Holy Gurbani, with your help only. I just know that I am longing for you, I feel so far away. I know you are in every part of your creation, but having Your Word in our home, surely that will bring us

closer.

When I reached home in the evening, there was excitement in the air. "Sat Kartar Singh has sent word that a Sant will be visiting his home and we are to come right away." my wife said excitedly.

"Right away then", I answered tiredly, and went for the bath.

I wondered to my self, "What is it that makes One a Sant. Can He perform miracles?" I supposed I was soon to find out.

By the time we reached the house, Keertan was in full swing. It could be heard even before we came in sight of the house. It looked as though there would be no where to sit inside, shoes were scattered every where.

Bibi ji, without saying anything, bent over and started arranging them in neat pairs, and neat rows. I noticed that she wiped each one with the end of her chuni. I was a little surprised, but didn't say anything. I wondered wahe though. Inside just as I suspected, there was no place at all to sit, we were just able to get through to bow before Guru Sahib, the women disappeared into the langer. I found a place near the back of the room, with a view of the Sant and sat down to study Him. He didn't look unusual. That was in his favor I decided, better than the flashy Sants. Still he was so very ordinary in appearance... I really wondered what it was about him that was special. Then he looked my way. He looked deeply into my eyes. I felt as if he was reading my soul.

Still, that sort of thing had happened with Sat Kartar Singh, I wasn't giving this so called Sant any breaks.

After the program, we were preparing to return home. Just as we were leaving, Sat Kartar Singh touched my shoulder. Sant ji wants you to remain the night with him. We will sleep now, do Amrit vela in the morning, then he wishes to interview you. My heart skipped a beat. "Calm down I told my self, Nothing special has happened."

I was one of the first up, I didn't like waiting for the bath, so I figured best to be there first. The door opened, Sant ji nodded to me on his way out, as he walked past.

When I had reached for simran, It was very black, and I could see nothing at all. I groped along the wall, until I bumped someone with my foot, then sat down. Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru, all my fatigue, from the day before, hit me. wahe guru waheguru waheguru. I felt my self slipping, I propped my back against the wall. waheguru waheguru waheguru.

I saw a figure standing in front of me. There was a light glowing round his head. I looked closer, It was the Sant, he was carrying something on his head. He turned and looked into my eyes, and motioned me to follow him. We walked through the dark streets, then I saw my house ahead. Suddenly the Sant disappeared, my head felt very heavy, I reached up and felt something, a package of some sort, wrapped in cloth and heavy, I began to feel light headed from the weight, I felt as if I was floating, As though the weight was an anchor being drawn up, and I was attached to it. Then I burst into the light, it was blindingly bright. I put my hands to my eyes, to shut out the light, Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru. I opened my eyes, everyone was standing for prakash, I must have dozed off and had been dreaming.

Sat Kartar Singh told me "Sant ji wants to come to your home." I wondered how they communicated, Sant ji seemed like a silent Sant to me, I never saw him speak. It crossed my mind that I wouldn't be going out to the fields today. Since it was early, the Sant procession was small, only a few, 5 or so, Singhs followed him as we went towards my home. Still I hadn't heard him say a word, The others were singhing "Dhan Dhan Siri Guru Granth Sahib Ji", When we reached the house a man was standing in front. He was dressed in a blue robe, with a yellow sash and he had a package on his head like the One in my dream.

The strangest feeling came over me, I began to tingle and a shiver traveled up my back. There was a trunk beside him. Inside, one room had been cleared out. Some how my wife had reached home ahead of me and was scurrying about. Bibi ji was looking a bit mysterious I thought, calmly giving directions. The trunk was opened, A canopy was hung, a small platform assembled, pillows and draperies, assembled. I smelled prashad cooking, I got that feeling again of tears welling up, choking me. Then Sant ji

entered the room, he began to recite Ardaas, "So, he does speak," I thought irreverently. The Singh, in blue, came in and knelt down. He removed the package from his head, set it gently on the platform, and unwrapped it. Then he motioned me to come and sit beside him. After he took the Hukam Nama, he spoke to me, "These words mean-

"Every moment thou nuresth me as thy little child".

There was just ONE line.

Part X - Waheguru, the only one

Today Bibi ji left for her home.

It's strange how empty everything's feels. She just came to us and said, I have been called home. My wife nearly broke down, She clung to her for the longest time. They clung to each other. Bibi ji said, "I've been happy here," looking around. "Many changes have happened, I have to return, I have my duty to serve, we are all bound by our karma's," and smiled. It was an ironic, sort of sideways, half smile, but a smile none the less.

We even managed to learn do small keertan while she was here, a start, like a tiny seed, that if watered, will grow. Not that I expect we will ever be able to do much more than satisfy the longing of our own soul to taste Gurbani.

Still inspite of everything, all the progress we have made, there is a gap, a big hole, I didn't realize until she was gone how much a part of everything she was. Well to be sure we'll see her at the next smagham.

I spent the afternoon with Sat Kartar Singh, he too is leaving. He has duties to serve Singhs in other parts of the country. I never really realized how important he was. He was so humble and treated us just like

his own, always kept us close. It turns out that he is one of the most highly respected Singhs alive at this time. I didn't find that out from him, rather some very self important fellows who came to collect him. He cleaned their shoes, when they were busy with arrangements.

Something inside has changed, even though I feel like a river that is running dry. There is a feeling inside. Some other members of the sangat asked to come by later this week. We made some plans for keertan. I'm not sure wahe they asked us, but it seemed to comfort them to do so. It comforted me too. And my wife is already busy with the ladies, making plans for the langer.

I'm not sure wahe i feel like weeping so much. Everything is here. Baba ji is here. We get up everyday, do paath, keertan. Life is full. My heart is full, so full it is spilling over again and I can't stop the tears from flowing. Maybe I need to get a dog. Maybe I just need a hug. Maybe,... I just need Waheguru.

Waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru

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