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Short story: War horses of his Banda.


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Short story: War horses of his Banda .

The Guru had left his mortal body and placed his Light in the Guru Granth and Guru Panth. Before leaving in the land of the Marathas, riding off into the flames with faithful Blue, the weapons that adorned him like jewels and flowers, and the sight of his handsome Turban that all his disciples filled their eyes with each day, his words that lifted the righteous and scared the unholy, he made a final devotee, Madho Dass.

A renunciate, an ascetic, he was transformed into the Singh, the Bahadur, the Guru’s Banda, Gurbakhs Singh, Banda Singh Bahadur.

Hearing the tales of his new Guru, Banda Singh knew that the war horses of righteousness were destined to return to the five rivers.

With holy fire in his heart, the determination to flatten mountains and make rushing rivers turn their flows, Banda Singh was blessed with the Arrows of unmatched accuracy, the blessings of the Dust Daman, the one sent by God to bring balance to the forces of darkness that drown all in Kalyug, the Singh of all Singhs, Guru Gobind Singh, the general of forces so righteous that arrows from whom bring salvation, the taste of whose sword cuts the hunger for good. The sight of whom gives hope to the drowning. The hand of whom all desire on their backs. The smile of whom all await in their burning lives. The sight of whose sword pushes the fear of death into the abyss of hell fires. The one who let all be his children if they so desired. The one who made timid sparrows break apart hawks. Whose one long silky hair is worth more than the 3 worlds.

With the blessing of the King of Kings, Banda Singh Bahadur and his brothers said farewell to the Maratha land of the Guru to head back to the heart of the Panth. With men few in numbers, as always it was meant to be since kalyug was in full life, the war horses of righteousness set off into the burning land of the dried rivers. The land that was full of the most faithful in all India, the land that was also full of the most ruthless.

*They sat in comfort thinking the children of the snake had been finished, and now the cobra himself had passed away in the midsouth. Not knowing that the cobra was now the coiled khalsa which would never number less than 5.

The khalsa was the coiled cobra, the crocodile nihang, the lion Singh, the nirmal sant.*

The war horses of righteousness gathered speed and size as the land of the five rivers got closer by night. The horses heaved and rushed, the Singhs drenched in sweat, bare shins and chest. The setting sun kissed their foreheads.

The End.

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