SUNDRI - by Bhai Vir Singh Ji

[shaheediyan]

Bhai Vir Singh

“Sundriâ€

Forword

Sundri is the first Punjabi novel which comes from the pen of Bhai Vir Singh. It was conceived during the time period when it was imperative to boost the morale of the Sikhs after the downfall and subsequent annexation of the kingdom of Punjab. The path of austerity was hard to pursue and people had fallen prey to mundane pleasures. Bhai Vir Singh, surcharged with the spirit to redeem the glory of the Sikhs and with abundance of knowledge wrote voluminous literature of didactic nature. He had a purpose in view and his entire efforts were to achieve the same by awakening the masses and the intellectuals to imbibe practical aspects of Sikh religion. In writing such books, the purpose kept in view can be best described in the author's own words:

"Increasing people in our ranks seem to be turning their back on our glorious past. The book stresses the need of recapturing the divine spirit of the Khalsa created by Guru Gobind Singh. The Khalsa represents spiritually elevated people who are blissfully cheerful, fearless, invincible but non-aggressive. The book highlights the glorious manner in which the Khalsa remained steadfast to its high principles even when faced with the greatest odds… Let us hope that it would help us to re-imbibe the spirit of courage, humanity, compassion and all the divine qualities with which our forefathers were gifted."

Base on a popular folk song and set in the historical period of Mir Manu that is notorious for large scale massacre of the Sikhs, Sundri is a symbolic representative of that milieu. Nawabs had courtiers were bent upon annihilating the Sikhs. The rulers were lustful and tyrannical. Hindus as a class failed to meet the challenge. At the best they could offer compensation to get back the captured girls. Men like Balwant Singh, brother of Sundri, and girls of her stock faced all kinds of persecution at the hands of the Moghul sepoys and humiliation at the hands of Nawabs. The story depicts incidents and events which inculcate universal brotherhood and love for humanity. A Sikh girl treats an injured Moghul sepoy but on learning that she is a Sikh woman he attacks with his dagger. Surasti, the earlier name of Sundri, was forcibly taken away by the Moghul official but when she is baptised and renamed Sundri, she earns respects of the members of the Sikh Jatha who treat her as their own sister.

Through his writings Bhai Vir Singh Succeeded not only in restoring the morals of the people of his time but also in providing the Punjabi - his mother tongue - the honour and glory long denied to it as a result of political and cultural slavery. A Colossus of modern Punjabi Literature, Bhai Vir Singh alone wrote more than all his contemporaries put together. The present attempt to render Bhai Sahib's works in English will go a long way in taking his message to the world at large.

Bhai Vir Singh Sahitya Sadan is glad to note that Sri Guru Nanak Satsang Sabha, Gurdwara Katong, Singapore, have taken up a programme to get Bhai Vir Singh's works translated into English and other languages, publish them and make the same available to the people in foreign lands. The Sadan wish the Sabha all success in their noble endeavours.

HARBANS SINGH New Delhi April, 1983

Honorary General Secretary, Bhai Vir Singh Sahitya Sadan

Introduction

There is no aspect of Punjabi culture which Bhai Vir Singh has not illumined and enlarged. By his dedicated and inspiring works, he put the Punjabi language on the same pedestal as other modern Indian languages. He is truly the doyen of the Punjabi Commonwealth of letters. He could rightly be called the father of modern Punjabi literature, for he began writing in this language when nobody was interested in it and when people's thoughts were influenced more by Urdu and Persian. All educated Punjabis who know something of the Punjabi language have acclaimed that Bhai Vir Singh occupies in Punjabi the same place as Iqbal in Urdu, Rabindra Nath Tagore in Bengali and Wordsworth in English. His name is a household word in Punjabi. He gave the language a new style, a new rhythm, a new flow and a new though-content.

As a writer of fiction, Bhai Vir Singh need not be judged critically from the point of view of style and treatment of subjects in his novels. He wrote all his fictional works with a purpose. The purpose was to awaken in the Sikhs the sense of chivalry and to instil in them a sense of pride in their cultural and rich heritage. Bhai Vir Singh emerged on the literary scene at a time when the Sikhs had started harbouring misgivings about the achievements of their ancestors. This is described piquantly by Khushwant Singh in his book 'The Sikhs' (p. 166). He says "English historians harped on the crude and corrupt rule which they had replaced by an enlightened one. Sanskrit scholars belittled the religion of Sikhs as a poor imitation of the Hindus and ridiculed its forms and symbols…" This was too much to endure for a person of Bhai Vir Singh's sensitivity and understanding. He took it as a challenge and proceeded to blow away the dust almost single-handedly. Through his novels, he emphasised the ethical excellence of the Sikh religion and reminded the Sikhs of heroism and chivalry practiced by their co-religionists. His novels SUNDRI, BIJAY SINGH, SATWANT KAUR, and BABA NAUDH SINGH carried an instant appeal for the Sikhs who read them with enthusiasm and pride. They are historical novels written with a religious background. It may be argued that the style and treatment of subjects dealt with does not conform to the standards of fiction. It has to be accepted, however, that these novels do succeed in bringing out the necessary change in the attitude of the Sikhs towards their heroic heritage. Novels like SUNDRI and SATWANT KAUR have gone into scores of editions and are still read by persons having interest in history and religion. By his novels, Bhai Vir Singh was able to put across his message and was thus able in warding off the challenge posed to the Sikh religion by the English historians and Sanskrit scholars, to which a reference has been made above.

Bhai Vir Singh's novel SUNDRI is based on the folksong which narrates the tale of a young, beautiful and recently married Hindu girl. She is carried away forcibly by a Moghul who happens to see her. All the male members of the family go to the officer and entreat him to release the girl. They offer a big ransom. All these appeals fall on dear ears. The Moghul does not agree to release the girl. To save her honour, the girl decides to burn herself alive. As soon as the Moghul goes out of his camp, she collects the wood, lights the fire and jumps in it. Providentially, her Sikh brother appears then and saves her life. Then the brother and Sister join the roving band of Sikhs. The Sikhs in the days of Zakaria Khan (1726-1745 AD), the last Moghul Governor of Punjab, were mostly hiding the thick forests and mountain recesses. They were not allowed to move freely in the plains. Sundri, the rescued girl, was respected by the Sikhs. The respect in which women were held by the Sikhs is testified by Qazi Nur Mohammed, the author of Jang Namah. He says, "Whether a woman is younger or old, they call her budhiya, an old lady, and ask her to get away. There is no adultery amongst these dogs."

The death of Zakaria Khan in July, 1745 led to a war of succession between his sons Yahya Khan and Shah Nawaz Khan. This gave some respite to the Sikhs who had been hiding in the mountains. On one side, the Raja of Jammu rose in revolt, and on the other , Sikhs began to cause tumult and trouble. In 1756, Jaspat Rai, brother or Lakhpat Rai, Dewan of Yahya Khan was killed in battle by

the Sikhs. The Sikhs were attacked from all sides near Gurdaspur and a large number of them were brutally massacred. The event has gone down in history as Ghalughara or Holocaust. SUNDRI gives details of this event. The first invasion of Ahmed Shah Durrani in 1748 and subsequent appointment of Mir Manu as the Governer of Punjab are significant events in the history of the Sikhs. During the rule of Mir Manu, the Sikhs were persecuted ruthlessly. Kaura Mal, the Dewan of Mir Manu, was an ancestor of Bhai Vir Singh. The latter therefore, has taken great pains to collect anecdotes relating to his administrative wisdom. SUNDRI ends with the events of 1752 A.D. The same year Kaura Mal passed away. The purpose of Bhai Vir Singh in writing SUNDRI was to present some of the ideal Sikh characters regarding their symbols, religion and their cult of sword, and in this, he succeeded fully. The characters portrayed in SUNDRI became household words in Punjab in later years.

Sundri is the heroin of the novel. She is portrayed as an embodiment of faith and purity. The novel carries an inspiration to the Sikhs who read it with enthusiasm and pride. It is a historical novel written with a didactic purpose. The purpose is to inspire the Sikhs by reminding them of their duty as preached by their Gurus. Through the novel, Bhai Vir Singh is able to put across his message. The fine points of Sikhism and Sikh character are vividly brought out. To mention a few of these, a Sikh makes use of his sword for defensive purposes only or to remove the tyrannical injustice of those in power. A Sikh cannot helplessly submit to the evil designs of his oppressors. He actively struggles for his self-respect, liberty and faith. Even in such efforts, a Sikh shows a high sense of charity to the relatives of his oppressors or even to oppressors themselves. This is his religious faith. This is his spirit. This is his character. He has an abiding faith in the teachings of his Gurus. He lives with his very being saturated by these teachings.

It is not always possible for one to have a proper estimate of the genius of Bhai Vir Singh by reading English renderings of his works. Every language has its peculiarities which cannot be rendered faithfully into another language. Punjabi is no exception to this universal rule. A translation, howsoever painstakingly done, cannot capture fully and successfully the totality or the sprit of the original work. There is, however, a requirement for attempting translation of great works are communicated to the general public not conversant with Punjabi language. By rending SUNDRI into English, Dr. G.S. Mansukhani has done service to the Punjabi language. The English version is a reasonably successful effort. It succeeds in conveying to the English knowing public the full meaning and the essence of the original work. This effort evokes our appreciation. By his sensitivity and understanding, Dr. Mansukhani has succeeded in placing in our hands a reasonably good version in English of this novel of the great Master. The English version does succeed in capturing the original atmosphere and times in which the novel was initially conceived and executed in Punjabi by Bhai Vir Singh. It must be conceded that the translation done by Dr. Mansukhani is not merely an effort for substituting words of English in place of Punjabi words. It keeps the spirit of the original work constantly in view and faithfully transmits this spirit in English. The English version captures the ethos and excitement of the original. It is readable and enjoyable. It is an excellent endeavour for which Dr. Mansukhani deserves our appreciation and thanks.

J.S GULERIA Lt. Col. (Retd.) New Delhi April, 1983

Hon. Joint Secretary, Bhair Vir Singh Sahitya Sadan, and Editor KHERA

Sundri

Amidst the blooming grassy farmlands in the plains of the Punjab lay a remote village inhabited by both Hindus and Muslims. A little distance was a dense forest and a lake where people used to go for game- hunting.

To the eastern side of the village was a road leading to the outskirts where a rich Hindu gentleman named Shama lived with his family. Today was the bridal farewell function (muklawa) of his daughter who was to leave for her husband's home. It was a happy evening when the soft breeze blew. The house of Shama buzzed with activity connected with the preparation and celebration of the farewell function. The house was overcrowded and it became so stuffy and congested that it was difficult to stay indoors. The bride named Surasti was pretty and exceedingly handsome. Upset by the smoke, she went over to her friends who were playing nearby on the road to the sear of the house. There was a spinning competition for youthful girls-some virgins, some wedded but waiting to join their husbands and some middle aged housewives. None of them could be called ugly by any standard, but compared to the charm of Surasti, they looked like stars around the full moon. Laughing and playing in their gay dresses they made a fascinating spectacle.

Just then two more young ladies who were sisters-in-law brought some rice and wild berries to clean, because closeby was a place with an arrangement for pounding and dehusking rice. At first, the ladies blew off the husks in fun and then turn by turn, they began separating the remaining husks off the grains. When it was time for Surasti to take her turn all the ladies sang in chorus the following line of the folk-song: "Sitting under the shade of trees, we mothers and daughters, our tasks we do............."

The wooden pestle in the hands of Surasti kept beat with the rhythm of the song as though the mortar was a drum. All were so much enraptured by this song that they lost all sense of time and space.

When the song ended, the unfortunate ladies were surprised to find a stout young ruffian Moghul soldier, riding a horse staring at them. His cynosure was the face of Surasti, who out of her maidenly coyness blushed, all of them were so frightened that they became nervous and pale.

Hindu parents, in this age of feudal lawlessness hardly allowed their daughters and daughters-in-law to go out of their home and used to keep them within the four walls like prisoners, because a beautiful wife, a fine house, riches and merchandise could hardly be retained by a Hindu. They were a risky liability against Muslim avarice. The reason for this risk to life and property was that the power of the Delhi Moghul emperor had declined; petty local governors became aggressive and daring; the country was subject to subversion and confusion, and arrogant rulers committed atrocities as they liked.

Dreading the evil intentions of the Moghul youth, the girls got scared. Their nervous uncertainty confirmed their fears when, advancing a few steps, the Moghul caught hold of Surasti's delicate wrist with his sturdy hand and with a jolt pulled her up to his horse and galloped away. The shrieks of Surasti and the sad plight of the v omen-folk brought all the villagers together and in this confusion they began to ask what had really happened. After hearing the account of the ladies regarding the abduction of Surasti and some of them having witnessed this misdeed happen before their eyes, they were flabbergasted and felt utterly demoralised. What evil times! O, the pity of it! Such degradation of conduct! In this entire group, not even one had the courage and the nerve to take risk and dare rescue the bride.

After the Moghul had disappeared, the elders of the village held a consultation and decided that the lady's father, brother and husband and two elderly representatives of the village should go to the Moghul and plead with him and perhaps out of compassion he might release the lady.

About a mile away from the village, a few tents had been pitched for the Moghul hunting party. These belonged to the ruler of this area and he had come here in search of game; he had very few servants with him. Today when he had gone hunting, he had left no guard in his camp; he had taken all with himself. While chasing a deer, the Moghul got separated from his servants. He rode far out but could not trace the deer; however he saw a village in the distance and rode to it for quenching his thirst and here he captured a lady as his game. When he got back to the camp, he did not find any servant. So leaving the lady on a carpet, he proceeded to tie his horse and began to look for water. Unfortunately, the supply of water had run short. As the Moghul returned to Surasti, he found that a delegation of villagers was approaching towards him. Surasti was sobbing on the carpet, while he took his seat on the bedstead. At that time five villagers prostrated in front of him and requested him to set the lady free. The Moghul remonstrated with them, declaring: "I am the ruler of this region. What does it matter if I take one girl out of the lot in the village? I am sure you will not feel her loss." Shamlal replied with folded hands: "This girl is my only daughter and, she got married recently. Today is the day of her send-off to her husband's home. Please be considerate, otherwise I will be disgraced. Have pity on me; the ruler is considered as the guardian of his subjects."

The Moghul: "Go away; I will not return this lady "

Shama: "Maharaj: you area great man: if you like I can compensate for her release by giving you silver equal to her weight. Kindly spare her."

The Nawab-grinned and shouted: "Go away."

Thereafter the girl's brother with folded hands and with great humility said: "Sir, you really do not need her. You have a thousand ladies at your disposal. Please take pity on this helpless girl; if you so desire I shall give you gold equal to her weight as recompense. I can buy you girls in her place. You are a generous man, and return this girl to me as a gift." The stony-hearted Nawab remained unaffected and looked in a different direction.

Then the girl's husband - who had come to the village to take his bride from her parental home - touched the Nawab's feet and said: "Sir, I am one of your subjects. It is the duty of the ruler to protect the honour of his subjects. I shall not be able to show my face in public to any one hereafter. Be kind to me and accept whatever money and goods I have as compensation and restore my wife to me. Please save me from disgrace."

Nawab: "Well, you all seem to be very rich. Go away. I shall not part with the golden sparrow. I do not need silver, gold or diamonds. Please go away, otherwise I shall arrest you."

Hearing this, the bridegroom felt frightened for he had unwittingly declared himself a rich man, He feared that the Nawab might attack his house and loot his wealth. It would be wise for him to slip away. Realising this, he went back to his father-in-law's house, where collecting his relatives, he proceeded to his home.

When the ruler did not heed even the entreaties of the village-representatives, the girl's brother fainted and collapsed on the spot. The girl's father sat nearby and sobbed. Seeing this, Surasti suddenly changed. Her tears dried away and she felt a resurgence of courage. She stood up, bared her face gleaming with religious conviction and came to the place where her brother had fainted and

whispered loudly into his ears: "Get up, my brother; go home. I shall not touch even the water of this Moghul I shall burn myself rather than surrender to him,"

The father and the brother (of Surasti) felt convinced that the Moghul would not give up Surasti and she would definitely preserve her honour. They all returned home broken-hearted.

Alas, that beautiful home of Shama which sometime back was full of joy and fun became a place of mourning. All the relatives gathered to offer consolation and the ladies raised a hue and cry and wailed loudly. Hindus and Muslims of the village were scared by what had happened. Alas, it was a catastrophe! It was an uncondonable disgrace of the village.

While such laments were being made, suddenly a Sikh rider (Singh Sardar) seated on a green horse (armed from head to foot) dressed in tight drawers-Kachhera-and jacket and his waist tied with a sash, a dark turban on his head, robust in appearance (Singh Sardar)-whose face would gladden any one's heart, appeared on the spot. All the people looked at him intently, but no one could guess -who he was. Surasti's mother-who was surrounded by other women-recognised the Sikh rider as her own son who had earlier joined the Sikh brotherhood as Balwant Singh. He had left his home and for years no one had heard anything about him. Seeing her son after a long time, the mother's natural affection leapt within her. She got up and held him in her arms after be had got down from his horse. Seeing this, the father and the brother too recognised this young man. Alas! After such a long period of separation, the surge of natural love was suppressed by the narration of the sad story of Surasti-s abduction.

As-soon as the Sikh youth heard this story, his blood boiled. His eyes and face glowed with rage and his limbs shook with religious fervour. He inquired the whereabouts of the Moghul's tent. Immediately, he jumped on his horse, as he was keen to rescue his sister. The parents, however, dissuaded him from going to the Moghul's place, for they feared his certain death in the ensuing encounter. In those days, no Sikh was left alive by the Muslim ruler. But Balwant Singh turned a deaf ear to these entreaties. Within minutes, he reached the row of tents. He saw a pile of fuel, which had just been lighted and from the top he heard the faint recitation of some lines of the Japji (Sikh prayer). In a trice, Balwant Singh dismounted h horse and pushed away the pile of sticks and pulled his sister lying underneath. When Surasti looked up, she recognised her brother and could not contain her sudden joy and said: 'My dear brother! At this time when I ha decided to burn myself, there was the last wish in n mind that I should see you before my death. The Guru has been kind to fulfil my desire and I am happy to meet you on the eve of my departure from this world. God be thanked! Now you must go back to the place from where you came, for the Moghul is likely to return at any moment and I would like to end my life by immolation before his return.

Brother: "Dear sister! Suicide is a grave sin; con with me."

Sister: "No, my brother! To die for one's religion is not a sin. If I go away with you, this evil man will destroy our family; he will not spare us either. I am not all afraid of death. I feel the security of Guru Tegh Bahadur's presence with me. Let me sacrifice myself that others may survive."

Balwant Singh heard a sound coming from some distance and grabbing his sister's arm threw her on the saddle and galloped away. When he reached home, his father and brother scolded him: "O you sinner! What have you done? Do you think that the Turk (Moghul) will spare us? When he comes to know that one of our sons is Sikh, he will crush us all. Moreover, you have saved the girl from his clutches. Like an enraged lion, he will pounce on us. Be sensible, go back and return Surasti to him."

Balwant Singh could not tolerate such insulting and degrading words from his parents. He rode back with his sister to the jungle and after an hour's ride reached a spacious opening, which showed gory marks of a recent battle. The place was fall of dead bodies and the ground was soaked with blood. He was bewildered to see so much loss of life in such a short time after he left it. Could anyone tell him about this carnage? Where had all his companions gone? He dismounted his horse and inspected the bodies. One of the bodies was still breathing He lifted it up and found that his wounds were not fatal He tore off a turban and both he and his sister dressed up the wounds. He brought some water from a neighbouring lake and sprinkled it on the face of the wounded man. The man opened his eyes gently after a while and whispered feebly: "Balwant Singh, thank God; you have met me before my death."

Balwant Singh: "How did it happen? How come, that in such a short time so much havoc has been wrought. Everything is topsy-turvy."

Sher Singh: "O brother! At the time you left us to visit your home, we were planning to stay at this spot, but the Turks suddenly appeared-as if from the blue- and there was a terrible battle. The main group of the Khalsa retreated to the dense jungle. At that moment I fell down, badly wounded. Many Turks lost their lives but they were in great number. I do not know what happened after I fell down."

Thereafter Balwant Singh placed Sher Singh under the shade of a tree and began to search other bodies. He found one, which was still breathing. This Sikh did not have serious injuries: he had been wounded and then become unconscious. Soon after drinking some water and gaining full consciousness, he began narrating his story. He was a strong man and a good rider. They searched for the horses and found two horses tied to a tree; both belonged to the Sikhs who lay dead. A decision was taken that one horse be given to Surasti for riding, and the other horse to the other Sikh. Balwant Singh was to take the wounded Sher Singh on his horse and during the night all were to ride in to the jungle to join their comrades.

Surasti had earlier heard the brave deeds of the Sikh warriors. Her faith in Sikhism was unshakeable. She used to recite regularly and secretly the Sikh prayers (Gurbani). Her devotion was deep.

Firm belief or staunch faith is a great power in itself and when it is nourished, it becomes unshakeable like a rock. This eighteen-year old virgin had become deeply pious with unbounded devotion for Sikhism. Earlier she had sent purposely the Muslim youth in search of water; she collected a pile of fuel - which was lying in front of the kitchen-and set fire to it with some dry foliage. Then she seated herself on the pile reciting the Japji. At this juncture, her brave brother had come and rescued her. Even so when her own family members rejected her, her faith in Sikhism was not shaken. She began to respect on the hardships faced by Guru Gobind Singh and later by the Sikh warriors. She decided to accompany her brother. When she had reached the plain which had been the arena of a battle between the Sikhs and the Turks and had seen the wounded Sikhs lying on the ground, she was fired by a religious zeal and felt that there was nothing better for her to do than serving the Sikh soldiers who had risked their lives for their faith. She felt convinced that her brother had acquired the courage of his conviction and noble demeanour because of his Sikh faith and living with the Sikhs. He had grown into a noble person. Why could not she be as brave as her brother? She thought that just as the sandal tree imparts fragrance to others, in the same way her heart felt inspired by her brother's example. She began to reflect on the role of women- why should not women participate in the struggle for the defence of morality and religion? If all women could not do so, at least she could set an example of courage by following her worthy brother.

Such thoughts enabled Surasti to keep her cool when she viewed the terrible carnage. She told her brother of her determination to follow his example, and grabbing a sword from the body of a dead soldier hung it round her neck.

While they were in the process of removing the wounded brethren from the field, they saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance. As they looked intently, they found a band of riders galloping towards them. They rightly guessed that these riders were coming in pursuit of the lady-Surasti, whom they had rescued.

The three Sikhs gave free reins to their horses, while a hundred Turks pursued them. The horses ran for three or four miles when Sher Singh's horse stumbled and fell. The result was that his companions had to halt and soon the Turks surrounded them. A fight ensued between the two groups. Sher Singh was killed, while on the other side eight or ten Turks fell unconscious on the ground and the Muslim leader also got wounded. Balwant Singh and Surasti too got injured and their horses were killed in the encounter. Both of them - brother and sister - were captured and put under guard and taken to the jail to face atrocities.

The Sikhs had chopped some trees and plants in the centre of a dense jungle so as to make a clearing for a camping ground. There were many such places in the Punjab where the Sikhs found shelter in those troubled times. They were familiar with the topography of the region, but it was an arduous task for their enemies to enter into those dense jungles to locate them. Now we shall describe a function held in the jungle.

A religious congregation was held in the jungle in the evening. Guru Granth Sahib was placed in a central spot and five Sikhs sang hymns. The leader of this group was Sham Singh, who with his godly and ruddy face of a young man addressed the gathering at the end of the prayers thus: "Brothers, does any one know the whereabouts of Balwant Singh?" All shook their heads to indicate a negative answer. He had been seen going to his village, but had not yet returned. Possibly, he had been lured by the comforts of his home. Sham Singh did not agree with this view and declared: "This is impossible. Balwant Singh and domestic comforts do not go together. Perhaps he has been the victim of some accident or catastrophe; he is not a man to stay away." Rathor Singh said: "Sir, let us send someone to his village to find out the facts." Then another Sikh intervened and said: "If you permit me, I shall proceed to his village for this purpose." The leader replied: "Go and find but about Balwant Singh, but return quickly. Disguise yourself as a Moghul. If you go dressed as a Sikh you may be captured. Also please gather information about the situation of the Khalsa. We have had recently a lot of bad news from Lahore."

Hearing this, the young Sikh whose name was Hari Singh bowed to Guru Granth Sahib. He dressed himself as a Moghul and galloped away on horseback. It was the time of the sunset and darkness soon covered the jungle. This young man was not afraid of riding at night through the jungle. He proceeded ahead like a fearless lion. After some distance, the jungle became dense and impassable. He dismounted and holding the reins of his horse proceeded cautiously and circuitously, sometimes disengaging himself from the curly branches. With great difficulty he passed through the jungle. It was very late in the night when he mounted his horse again and reached a small village. He entered an old inn (Serai) where there was a Muslim's restaurant and a Hindu's shop. Both the owners seeing the Moghul approaching them stood up and after greeting him offered him a cot for rest. Then they brought some grass for his horse. The rider declared that he did not want any food for himself. He tied his horse to the cot and spreading a mat on it, he lay asleep. His sleep was disturbed after a couple of hours when a rich Muslim Chief arrived with his retinue. After a great tumult, they retired to their beds. The Muslim Chief went to sleep, while some of his servants began talking in low tones. Hari Singh was disguised as a Muslim. He was resting on a cot nearby. He listened attentively to the conversation of the sepoys which was as follows:

The first sepoy: "Who is this Balwant?"

The second sepoy: "He is a Kafir (Non-Muslim) but a brave soldier who in his encounter with Nadir Shah's army killed Rustam Khan."

First sepoy: "It is our good luck that such a dangerous and brave man has been captured."

Second sepoy: "If you were to see his sister, you would be enamoured of her. Now she is sullen in captivity, but when she was captured I was lucky to see her. She is like the moon I wonder how these maidens of Hindus are so beautiful."

First Sepoy: "Well, this lady will now be converted to Islam.

Second Sepoy: "Yes, then the Nawab will marry her with great pomp and pageantry and we shall also be rewarded "

First Sepoy: "Have the brother and sister agreed to embrace Islam?"

Second Sepoy: "Have the Sikhs ever changed their religion willingly? We have to use force to make them realise the benefits of conversion. They will, if left to themselves, sacrifice their lives rather than change their religion."

First Sepoy: "You are right. They are very obstinate. Hindus are soft like butter, but the Sikhs are hard as stone. Heaven knows from where they have got the strength of their conviction. Well, tell me how much time is left for the event."

Second Sepoy: "Not much, Tomorrow is Tuesday, then will follow Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday, this auspicious event will take place."

First Sepoy: "You must be feeling really happy, your master is lucky to have caught a golden sparrow."

Second Sepoy: "You must also be equally delighted. Your master - the Mulla (Muslim priest) has been called from such a long distance. I am sure he will get a big reward. As such, you will get enough money. However, whether you get any remuneration or not is a separate issue - the very spectacle of watching the conversion of these Sikhs is in itself a holy act.''

First sepoy: "That is true, but why has so much time been allowed to lapse. It is more than a month since Balwant Singh was captured, and, why this leniency? Why did they not accomplish this task quickly?"

Second sepoy: "The reason was that both Balwant Singh and his sister were wounded in their fight against the Moghuls and were quite ill, now they have recovered and that explains the cause of delay."

After finishing their talk they fell to sleep, The brave Sikh (Hari Singh) quickly got; up, fixed his saddle on the horse and galloped away to his leader it was a dark night; the path-way could hardly be seen; the sky was overcast. The horse stumbled quite often, but the brave Sikh of Guru Gobind Singh never lost his nerve. A little before dawn he entered a jungle and at sunrise reached, his destination.

At this time, all the Sikh's, after taking bath had assembled for the morning congregation. They started the recitation of Asa-di-var (a morning prayer). Hari Singh also joined them and listened to the recitation. After the conclusion of prayers, Hari Singh narrated the substance of the talk of the Turkish soldiers to the gathering. Bhai Balwant Singh and his sister lay imprisoned in a jail in the Doaba region (between the river Beas and Sutlej) and were scheduled for forcible conversion to Islam on Friday; That day was Tuesday; if the, Khalsa mustered courage it would be possible to rescue them in time. This news; caused much excitement and; fervour among the Sikhs. Their faces were flushed with rage; their hearts were full of anger and fury. Their sentiments for religion and of courage for its protection were stirred as they loudly, exclaimed! "Guru, Guru."

Sardar, Sham Singh loved every member of his group as much as himself. Balwant Singh, however, was an outstanding warrior and moreover he was now imprisoned along with a Sikh girl; this could not be tolerated. Immediately calling his comrades Sham Singh ordered them to proceed and declared that food would be served on the way. They could not delay in an emergency like this. He announced that they would go through the jungles and save every second. They would depart without any delay on the rescue-mission. They had to be prompt and certain of victory with the Guru's grace. Hearing the order of departure from their leader the Sikhs jumped on their saddles and struggled for their way through the dense jungle.

The sun was covered with dense clouds. Like a disarrayed army, the layers of clouds roamed in the sky. The movement of the wind was also wayward. Sometimes it would be swift and dusty, sometimes quiet and slow. The Moghuls with their conventional loose under sheets were loitering leisurely and proudly; the traders in their modest shops were idling away their time. But in the main mosque of the town things were different. Group after group of Muslims assembled in the courtyard. Outside the gate and in front of the shops stood military guards fully armed.

Something was approaching towards the front gate. It was a palanquin, which rested on the shoulders of four forcibly recruited Brahmin coolies. Inside the palanquin sat a sturdy Mulla (Muslim priest) who had been specially invited for the function fixed for that day. As soon as the palanquin reached the main gate of the mosque, the Mulla came out from the palanquin. He was respectfully greeted by the assembly and seated in the centre of the mosque. Soon thereafter five or seven riders arrived at the spot. The Nawab (ruler) rode on a horse and behind him was a closed palanquin, followed by a man in handcuffs. He wore dirty underwear, a mud-soiled shirt, and a small turban on his head, but his eyes were blood-shot with rage.

At the door of the mosque, a veiled woman got down from the palanquin. She and the captive Sikh entered the mosque and were seated in front of the Mulla. The courtyard of the mosque was overcrowded but there was complete silence. At last the Mulla broke the ice and addressed the captive standing in front of him, thus:

Mulla: "Balwant Singh, do you accept Islam voluntarily and willingly?"

Balwant Singh: "No, rather I shall welcome death willingly."

Mulla (addressing the Nawab): "This man is obstinate. He will not yield willingly. Either he will have to be slain or forcibly...."

Nawab: "I like the latter course. I do not lavish to kill the brother of this moon-like maiden."

Mulla: "Is a barber present here?"

Barber: "Yes Sir, I am here."

Mulla: "Come here and cut this man's hair."

Barber: "Very well."

The barber began to open his bag. Though the captive Sikh's hands were tied with chains, he lunged forward causing a great fright to the frail-framed barber. Seeing this, four sepoys grabbed Balwant Singh while the barber approached his victim. At this moment, the veiled woman whose hands and feet were tied also, threw away her veil, pushed the barber with her shoulders, rolling him over the dusty ground. She then stood up like a ferocious lioness. Seeing her beauty and her rage, the bystanders were much amazed. The Nawab on the other hand who was enamoured of her beauty was shocked by her angry look, like a man affected by a fall of lightning. The Mulla beckoned two sepoys to seize the girl and they tied her arms behind her back.

The Nawab was irritated, but what could he do? He was afraid of the Mulla and the crowd. If he had shown any leniency towards the young maid, he would have been censured as weak and compassionate to an infidel. The Nawab cast his eyeful glance at the girl who he expected would become his Begum (wife) soon, but even so at this moment she was still an infidel.

In the meantime, the barber regained his composure and wanted to proceed with his task Surasti was watching the plight and desperation of her brother with love mixed with compassion, and on the other hand she was aware of her predicament and frustration. Alas! Why should a brave brother have to face such degradation on account of the helplessness of an unfortunate sister?

In the meantime, a cloud of dust could be seen over the bazaar; there was a great tumult. Some thought it was a dust storm, others fit that a house had collapsed, yet others thought that an earthquake had begun: some thought that another Muslim ruler was coming with his retinue to join the celebration. All began to look in that direction. In a moment, a group of soldiers appeared out of the dust-cloud and a struggle began between the sepoys and the group of Sikhs, and suddenly the raiders entered the premises of the mosque and uttered the Sikh Jaikara (Bolay So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal) and called out "Balwant Singh." As Balwant Singh stood up. one of the Sikh grabbed the captive and threw him on the saddle of his horse, while another Sikh soldier caught hold of Surasti and placed her on his horse-back and immediately, like a thunder-bolt turning back, galloped away. The rest of the Sikh platoon had surrounded the gathering and as soon as the commander's order for 'Dispersal' was given, the Sikh troopers in a trice, like lightning disappearing after hitting a farm, galloped away from the mosque to the main bazaar and then towards the eastern exit of the village. Suddenly the commander of the platoon ordered his sepoys to halt and immediately all reined back their horses to a standstill. The reason was that the Muslim guards who were guarding the gate had first thought that the group might be the army of a neighbouring Muslim ruler but they recognised the Khalsa. They hid themselves and remained unnoticed and in the meantime reinforced themselves.

Seeing this predicament, Sardar Sham Singh asked his sharp shooters to take the front line, but before the guards could do anything, the Sikhs shot down the two gunners. Immediately Sardar Sham Singh asked his ten sepoys to shoot their arrows at the sepoys standing over the top of the gate. These people were wounded and soon the Sikhs broke down the gate like the shell of an almond. Outside the gate was another group of sepoys. Sham Singh's strategy worked, as his cavalry striking right and left and pushing their horses forward pierced through the line of the enemy and galloped away.

After the Sikhs had covered ten to twelve miles, they came across an open ground full of blooming crops where they set up a camp. They tied their horses to the tree trunks and cut some fodder for them. Some proceeded to the neighbouring village to buy some foodstuffs. Sham Singh spread a

sheet on the grass and sat down. Others went over to Balwant Singh and Surasti, removed their fetters and brought them to Sardar Sham Singh. Then followed a scene of reunion, which would be remembered always. One by one the Sikhs came forward and embraced Balwant Singh with joy and welcomed Surasti with folded hands and the Khalsa greeting. Soon after the exchange of greetings and the shouts of Jaikaras (the calls of Sat Sri Akal) which echoed all over, Balwant Singh and Surasti moved near to Sardar Sham Singh. First Balwant Singh related his own story and described the atrocities he and Surasti had to suffer in jail: But soon he heaved a sigh and declared that his greatest anxiety was the Nawab's resolve to make Surasti his wife by force, and now he was happy and thankful to the Guru for the success of the rescue-mission and the achievement of the Khalsa.

After Balwant Singh had finished his narrative, Sardar Sham Singh explained how, though they hurried through the jungles quietly and stealthily, they lost their way and as such were delayed. That morning they had best hope of rescuing Balwant Singh and his sister in time, but with the Guru's blessing who wanted to preserve their Dharma (Faith), they reached by mid-morning a town which was only five or six miles away from the mosque. It was with God's grace again that they reached the place just in the nick of time and gained their objective after a short struggle. If there had been a full-scale battle with the Moguls, they would have been at a disadvantage on account of their small number. It would have been difficult to wrest a victory. These talks continued for quite some time.

After a short while, the Sikhs who had gone to the village returned and reported that the number of Hindus there was small and the Turks were in a majority. None was ready to give them any food; though they had paid for foodstuffs they got nothing because the Hindus were mortally afraid of the Muslims. Sham Singh shouted to them: -"Bring the Panchas (Village head-men) here."- The Sikhs presented two men who they said were the Panchas of the village, whom they had captured.

Sham Singh: "Tell me Chowdhury (chief) why do you not give us food?"

Panchas: "We are commanded by our rulers not to give any food to the Sikhs"

Sham Singh: "At the moment, the ruler is the Khalsa."

Panchas: "We know nothing of the Khalsa. The Khalsa is like the shade of the clouds-now there. Who knows where you will be tomorrow?"

Sham Singh: "Let some twenty people go to the village and bring food. Do not harass any child or woman and do not touch anything except food - stuffs, and pay for it in gold.

As soon as Sham Singh issued this order, three or four Muslim women in veils approached him and began to sob. They were accompanied by a fourteen-year old boy who was their spokesman. He requested that their men-folk should not be harassed or beaten up and that they would supply what the Sikhs wanted.

Sham Singh: "We want only food for our men and horses and nothing else."

Women: "We shall soon send you loaves prepared by Hindu women, but we hope you will not ill-treat our men."

Sham Singh: "No, we shall give you money for the food. The Khalsa will never loot or beat up its subjects. To befool the royal forces and to loot the King's treasure are our tasks. We are enemies of tyrants; we are not enemies of honest people. This is the assignment of the Khalsa. Go and be quick; take money and supply food. Let your men-folk be happy."

The Muslim women soon returned to the village. They collected the Hindu women at one place and gave them wheat flour and pulses for cooking. These women quickly made chapattis (loaves) and cooked Dal (pulse). The Khalsa pulled out some fresh carrots from the farms and; munched them all. They had a real good meal. Then they released the Panchas. After giving them some gold sovereigns as cost of foodstuffs and carrots, the Khalsa got marching orders. The alertness and promptness of the Sikh guerrillas was remarkable. They rode their horses and sang martial songs like the spring breeze; they steadily moved forward, till they disappeared out of sight.

It was sunset - time when a battalion of Turkish troops in pursuit reached the village. The commander of the troops called the Panchas to find out if any Sikh group had passed through the village.

The Panchas replied: "Yes Sir. They rested here, bad their meals and left a few hours back.''

Muslim commander: "Who gave them the food?"

Panchas: "The Hindus of the village."

Muslim commander: "Did any Muslim also supply the food?''

Panchas: "No Sir! Do the Muslims ever help the infidels willingly? These Hindus were even delighted when they saw the Sikhs".

Hearing this, the Muslim commander got angry and ordered the arrest of the Hindus. He did not make any inquiry nor called for their explanation. He further ordered that they he beaten up. How unfortunate that the Muslims who had actually supplied the food to the Sikhs were regarded as innocent and the Hindus who had only obeyed their Muslim neighbours m the village were caught in the net' As a result of reckless and severe beating. Some of the Hindus died on the spot. One newly married bride's husband lost his life through severe beating and the lady was asked to marry the Muslim commander. The pious lady requested that she should be killed like her husband. But who was there to listen to her woes? In sheer desperation, the lady moved forward and gave such a blow on the eyes of the commander that he lost his eye and became unconscious. A Pathan soldier promptly drew his sword and aimed a heavy blow on the lady's head, which was severed with a jerk, and the sharp point of his sword pierced the commander's body.

For the Khalsa, things moved smoothly for some days. There was joy and hectic activity in the jungle. Under the shade of trees, these spiritual warriors were quite busy, but on the alert. They followed the daily chores of camp life: some were reciting their prayers, some mending their clothes, some collecting fuel for the Langar (Free kitchen), while some went far and near in search of fruits. Altogether these lion-hearted Sikhs were enjoying themselves in this comfortable and self-supporting shelter. They had forgotten about their parents and their families. Their spirits were imbued with love for and devotion to Guru Gobind Singh. They regarded the preservation and protection of their faith as the goal of their lives. For this reason, they enjoyed their stay in this spot, feeling mentally free like fearless lions.

One evening when the whole group had taken their Langar (dinner) and were retiring to rest, Sardar Sham Singh talked to his companions thus:

Sham Singh: (addressing Surasti) "O respected lady! What is your plan about your own future?"

Surasti "Sir, I will follow your orders."

Sham Singh: "There is no such thing as an order. We shall do our best as you desire. If you like, we can bring your husband and then you both live together here. If you want to be taken to your husband's place, we can do that. But the Moghuls will not leave our pursuit and you will be again under the captivity of Moghuls. Whatever you desire will be done. Balwant Singh is our brother. All the Sikhs love him. He is an ideal Sikh and a great warrior. You are his sister and the entire group here regards you as their sister."

Surasti: "Sir and my brethren! Married life does not appeal to me and as you know my husband bas also renounced me. It was his duty to protect me, which he has refused to do. I do not wish to return to that domestic kind of life again, from which the Guru has pulled me away. My sole aim is that my entire life be dedicated to the service of the Khalsa. If you permit me, I shall live amidst my brothers here. In peacetime, I shall work in the Langar (Free Kitchen); in wartime I shall also stay with you and serve and look after my wounded and disabled brothers. I cannot brook the idea that while my brave brothers should offer their sacrifice for the protection of Sikh Dharma, I should refrain from devoting my life to my religion. I want this gift from you that I should read Gurbani, meditate on the Holy Word and serve the community. If my life is dedicated to my faith, there will be none more fortunate than me.

The eyes of a lion like Sham Singh were full of tears (of joy) and his body shook with emotion. He thought for a while and said:

"Our life is very hard; we have always to face calamity and ordeals. These days we can not move even in our own part of the country. How will you face the sufferings of the group?"

Surasti: "God will give me courage. I shall bear all the sufferings and utilise my time in your service."

Sardar Sham Singh reflected for a while and replied: "You are not an ordinary woman; you are a goddess. Blessed be your birth that you are full of love for religion. O respected sister! May God fulfil your wishes! From my side, there is no restriction or condition. You are free to serve the Khalsa community in any way you like. You make your life useful to others. But you must always have the courage of a man to face this kind of hard life."

Balwant Singh: "O sister! You have expressed your sentiments so truly. You have received the Guru-s blessings. Truly you are the Guru's daughter. Your courage is that of a lioness. God will help you! May the hand of Mai Bhago bless you!"

Surasti: "O my brother! This body is mortal and must perish. If it is used up in the service of the Panth (Sikh community) there is nothing more profitable for my soul than this. Remember how the children of Guru Gobind Singh sacrificed their lives to uphold the teachings of the Guru and how cheerfully Bhai Mani Singh had his body cut at every joint. O brother, if such great souls made such tremendous sacrifices, why should we crave to preserve our bodies. I have seen my parents, relatives and others and realised that all these worldly affections are false. You saved me from the burning pyre and put your life at risk and as such you have not acted like an ordinary brother. There is religious zeal and devotion in you; there is love for the Guru in your heart. Yon have a sense of self-respect. For this reason you have shown so much compassion to me. Now I fed that religion is a very valuable thing for it inspires one to true and noble action and, therefore, why should I turn my back to it. Perhaps you have a notion that a woman is physically weak and as such she must be mentally weak too. Please banish this idea from your mind. The heart of a woman is soft like wax and also hard like a stone; when the religious fervour inspires a woman, she becomes so firm that none can shake her resolve. I am not saying this out of brag or arrogance, but on account of a firm conviction in the Guru's grace. I know his blessings fill me with these sentiments."

Hearing this, Sham Singh and Balwant Singh blessed the lady. It was rather late in the night. All of them went to sleep after saying their prayers.

It was the season of spring and the early dawn was refreshing. The morning prayers made the environment blissful and it seemed that the jungle-camp was a heaven. Early in the morning, Guru Granth Sahib was ceremoniously installed and the congregation was held. First, Sham Singh informed the gathering that Surasti had decided to devote her life to the cause of Sikhism and that she - indoor and outside, in times of peace or war - desired to serve the Sikh community. For this reason, the lady should be baptised with Amrit and made the Khalsa and she should be considered as a spiritual sister. The entire congregation should regard her as a daughter of Guru Gobind Singh and Mata Sahib Devan. She should be treated like a sister. Then she was baptised according to the ceremony of Amrit and given the name of Sunder Kaur and she became popular as Sundri.

The joy of the Khalsa congregation knew no bounds. This was a lucky day when one of their own sisters who had been rescued from the jaws of a lion was ready to devote her life to the cause of Sikhism and would hereafter be sharing the hardships and sorrows of her brethren by dedication to their service for the remaining portion of her life. Every one in this group had been denied the sisterly affection and the tender love and intelligent guidance of women-folk. There was not one who had not severed his connection with his mother, sister and wife just for the preservation of his faith and had been leading the rough and adventurous life of a patriot guerrilla for quite some time.

Dear reader! This young lady's vow of dedication produced such a radical impact on this warrior-group, ever ready for sacrifice for preservation of moral and human values, that one and all began to look upon her as a sister or mother and offered thanks to the Guru. On such occasions the Guru's Word is understood in its true significance, when the human mind, free from sorrow, unconscious gets in tune with the Creator.

O friends of the Sikh religion! Remember this auspicious occasion with devotion and you will for once shed tears of joy! How blessed and blissful were those days! It was a period of Satyuga (The Age of Truth), when seeing a young maiden amidst them, the entire group looked upon her (Sundri) as a holy goddess, as their foster sister with the same brotherly feeling as for their real sister. All of them greeted her with joy and bowed to her with reverence. This was the purity and excellence of character, which the Guru had taught to the Sikhs. That is the reason why the community, overcome by the love of the Guru was ready to sacrifice itself. It was linked with the Guru through devotion and lived on the sustenance of the Holy Name.

When the religious service came to an end, Sundri got busy in cooking food in the free kitchen and later all shared home-made delicious food with joy. In this way, this pious lady spent some time in the service of the Khalsa.

Just as in between the thirty-two hard bony teeth lies the soft and tender tongue which performs vital services for the benefit of teeth, and even so the teeth do not hurt the tongue in any way but on the contrary protect it, in the same way, in the midst of the brave soldiers of Sardar Sham Singh's guerrilla-group, Sundri-the paragon of humility and sweetness-lived peacefully. Both morning and evening, she cooked food in the Free kitchen with helpers; even when all have had their food, she performed sundry tasks and simultaneously recited her prayers mildly. When no food was available or there was shortage of foodstuffs (ration), the Khalsa had to subsist on fruits and sweet herbs and roots available in the jungle. In this work of collecting herbs, Sundri became quite active. In her leisure she went into the jungle looking for the trees with edible fruit.

To the north of the jungle was a hill. One day Sundri climbed to the top and went over to the other side, and a little further lay a village abounding with luxuriant cereal plants. She went to the village

and saw some short and active men who happened to be Hindu peasants. Sundri visited this village often to buy a few things, but nobody in the village knew who she was and where she lived.

Once, the Free kitchen of the Khalsa had no rations. The wild fruits and herbs were no longer available and there was no money to buy food for the troops. All the Sikhs were worried about the future as they faced starvation. Sundri had a golden ring studded with a diamond. She thought of selling the ring to buy food and proceeded to the village for this purpose. However, none in the village knew the value of the diamond. One or two traders saw it. But they could not tell whether it was a real or fake diamond. While returning disappointed Sundri saw a boy clad in white dress, sitting as if in despair, at the end of the bazaar. On seeing the beauty of Sundri and her moon-like face he could not but notice her disappointment.

Khatri: "O lady, who are you and why do you look so sad?"

Sundri: "I am sad because I cannot find a buyer for my diamond ring."

Khatri: "Can I see the ring?"

Sundri showed him her ring.

Khatri: "The ring is beautiful. The diamond is also real and it is worth five to seven hundred rupees. But alas! I am like a wingless Koel bird fallen from the mango tree. Alas, I have no money or property, otherwise I would have given you its price." Drawing a deep breath and his eyes filled with tears he said: "O lady May Lord Shiva fulfil your desire. If you take this ring to a city, you will get good money there."

Sundri: "Well, let me leave it to the Guru. But tell, me first, why being a man, you are weeping? Tears are usual with women, but men do not shed tears."

Khatri: "O lady, you are a woman and I am a helpless man, Neither you can alleviate my grief nor I can meet your need. I can not suggest anything. Go your way and rest at home. I guess you are in some trouble, and therefore you want to sell this ring. I say you are lucky because you are hiding yourself from the atrocities of the Moghul rulers. Living in towns or villages is like living in hell.

Sundri: "O my friend; I am quite happy. You may call me a helpless woman, physically weak, but I am strong in mind. Men of my community are brave whose courage is admitted even by the Turks."

Khatri: "Who can face the challenge of the Turks? The Sikhs had risen in revolt and inflicted losses on the Moghuls, but our brothers, may they be damned, are destroying the very footprints of the Sikhs. I am amazed that though the Sikhs are decimated, they somehow keep growing in number to sacrifice themselves for the preservation of their faith. Now recall the latest event! Lakhpatrai, proceeding from Eminabad, is causing havoc among the Sikhs. O Mahadevi! What is happening these days!"

Hearing the words "havoc among the Sikhs," Sundri's face was flushed with indignation, but controlling her temper she said gently: "Please tell me something about yourself."

Khatri: "O respected lady, if you insist, I shall tell you my sad tale. About twenty to thirty miles away from this village and a little remote from the highway is a small Muslim village. There are quite a number of Hindu families living there. There is a fine Shiva temple. Our family has had an ancient lineage. During the reign of Akbar, one of our ancestors held a high office under Raja Todarmal. We had a lot of wealth, which was still, continue to hold. We belong to a high caste

among the Khatris. The petty ruler and his soldiers also live m the village. A few days back when I went to the temple to make my offerings, my wife went to the rooftop of our house to dry her hair. The mansion of the Moghul ruler is situated at a high elevation. From his house, he spotted my wife and enquired about her. He then summoned me from the temple and remarked that the Moghul emperor at Delhi had got information that I bad some royal jewellery from Akbar's treasury in my house and if I did not surrender it, I would be imprisoned. I replied, "It is ages since Akbar died: my ancestors have also passed away. There is no proof that I have any ancient jewellery with myself." He reprimanded me and called me an infidel and said: "How dare you tell lies before the Faithful (Muslim)? Get away from my sight." He signalled his sepoys who grabbed me and took me to jail. He also kept a guard over my house. Next day, he sent a message to the effect that if I surrendered my wife, I would be released. On hearing this, I was extremely distressed. Alas! How could I tolerate the idea of my wife being forcibly taken by another man!"

The Khatri continued: "When I regained my senses, I offered my golden bangle and rings to the jailer for my release. He accepted them and I was freed. I went to my house only to find that my wife had already been abducted by the ruler. He had also ordered the soldiers to keep my house under strict watch. I felt desolate and utterly helpless and I left the village and passed two days in grief and sobbing. Soon through a trick, I obtained information that my wife had not yet lost her chastity and was confined in jail. There was a strong rumour also that she had entered the ruler's harem (women's quarters). I passed one more day in disguise and came here to find out if some one could help me to rescue my wife. I would have welcomed death, but somehow I still like to live, and would not die."

Sundri: "O calamity-stricken friend! Suicide is a great sin. If you want to rescue your wife, come with me. My brothers will help you in recovering your wife. If you are sure that your wife has accepted the Muslim faith of her abductor and you do not wish to meet her, my brother will provide you some religious or charitable work so that your life may be useful to the community."

Khatri: "O lady; your words are so sweet and reassuring that they have brought comfort to my ailing heart. They are like straws which save a drowning person. I have no way of protecting myself or finding some means of regaining my wife. I find darkness of despair all around me. Calamities have crushed me. For what sin is our country suffering such atrocities? Why has such a misfortune overwhelmed us? Where have our gods and goddesses vanished? Why do not the saints and prophets come to our rescue? The gods themselves are in distress. O Shiva! O Vishnu! You all seem to be under a cloud! What havoc has been wrought to us! Why is it that the sinful are not destroyed? Why their misdeeds are not prevented? Woe, betide me! Why this injustice? What for?"

Such outbursts of inner agony and the deep frustration of the Khatri boy shook the very soul of Sundri. Gathering her composure, she replied "O noble soul! All misfortune is the result of neglecting the true worship of God and engaging oneself in useless ritual. With firm faith in God, all man's tasks are accomplished. The children of one God are like real brothers. When brothers join together, they become a power to reckon with. Disunity and selfishness are the flaws of our countrymen. Our factionalism is a great malady and we are all suffering for it."

The Khatri lost in his sorrow sat like a statue. Sundri grabbed his arm and shook him. As she accompanied him out of the village, she said: "These are difficult and evil times. The Sikhs live in isolation and keep hidden and as such we cannot tell others of their hideouts. I shall, therefore, tie a bandage over your eyes and when we reach a safe place, I shall remove the bandage." The boy agreed to it. Sundri bandaged his eyes and leading him through a difficult path-way in the jungle reached her habitation after some time.

As she reached the camp, her heart was gladdened to see her people so joyfully occupied. The cauldrons were brimming with hot food over the piles of burning fuel. She could feel the appetising smell of the cooking of delicious food. She asked a Sikh what was cooking in the pots. He replied that meat was being cooked. He further explained: &quot