Like the reflections of the bridge
In the flood waters,
dance with great abandon.
Keep your feet firmly on the ground
and while forgetting yourself----
just dance and let go

The above lines are translations of a ghazal (a form of poetry) by 19th century Indian poet Mirza Ghalib. Mirza Ghalib was a Muslim and like many poets from his religion were fascinated by the image of dancing Shiva. According to scholars of his poetry, the allusions to dancing Shiva in this ghazal are unmistakable.

A few months back while in Shivaliks, these lines kept on reverberating in my head. The sweet fragrance of the footsteps of Shiva and his consort Parvati permeates through all of these low-lying mountains forming outer edge of Himalayas. You cannot escape thinking about the their stories and philosophy. We visited the 15th century temple of Naina Devi (another name for Parvati) situated at the height of 3434 feet. After the temple visit, we stayed at Kandaghat Resort, situated at a height of 4667 above the sea level. The resort is breathtakingly beautiful. The glaring blue of the sky tirelessly untames the nature burdened by human activity. Shiva and Parvati temples enchant the whole cosmos of the area to no end.

Visiting these ancient places brought back the memory and desire of elemental quest, buried under life’s trials and tribulations. Visiting Shiva and Parvati’s stories in my head while walking on these mountains, rekindled that fire. During the long walks, the image of Shiva and Parvati playing chausar (a form of chess) with dice kept on flashing in front of me.  The image implies that death is certain, but timing is not. I marvel at the thought process of Indian mystics. God of death himself is playing dice. The famous astrophysicist Stephen Hawking once said “Not only does God play dice, but... he sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen."  The image teaches that the life is governed by laws of intolerable, permanent uncertainty.  The image says leave your questions open and be prepared for unpredictability.

Every fortnight, I visit my oncologist and every couple of months I have brain and lung scans. During my visits, I notice that some faces have gone forever only to be replaced by new ones. I am part of the caravan of violated bodies seeing death not so quietly percolating, creating arid pain and morbid gloominess. I realize that to look at Sun (Shiva, the transcendent) one must stay under shade (completely aware of mortality). I hear Shiva, the dispeller of fear, saying that the struggle and end of life will happen whenever the time is ripe. So during your brief sojourn on this planet walk fearlessly and take whatever is given as prasad (blessing).  Again, Ghalib using the image of Shiva, says:
If you have the motivation, then why do you talk of ending your struggle,
Forget the speed and dance, listening to beat of ‘dra’,
and let go.
On the formless substrate of this music which produces thousands of moving emotions sits immovable Shankar, the abode of joy. The depiction tells us that life and death are joined like lovers journeying together. Shankar (the abode of joy) is another aspect of same reality known as Shiva (the one who is self-illuminated and pure consciousness).  This unmistakable symbol tells us that life soars to high skies on the wings of death.  Enjoy the flight and celebrate the dance with full abandon. That is the only way to get drenched in life’s nectar at every moment of your breath. Mikhail Bulgakov in The White Guard expresses same sentiment using different words:
"Everything passes away-suffering, pain, blood, hunger, pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will remain when the shadow of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the earth. There is no man who does not know that. Why, then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"
In Hindu mythology, Shiva is the only god who is a householder. He and his consort Parvati (daughter of mountains) have three sons, Ganesh, Kartikeya, and Ayappa. To keep the world in perfect balance, their marriage is a union between Wisdom (Shiva) and Compassion (Parvati). This combination is the most appropriate response to needs of life. Shiva is also known as Somnath (lord of mind), and Parvati is also known as Gauri (Intellect). Mind cannot function in an optimal manner without cultivated intellect. Indian literature is full of stories of Shiva’s compassionate actions upon the cajoling of Parvati. Under cathedral of mother goddess Parvati people were witnessed and heard thus calming their internal roar.

I get tremendous solace while looking at Shivalinga sitting in non-emotive silence with my inner turmoil.  Sitting In that silence, you hear Shiva saying in words which cannot be said in words. One understands that the journey of faith does not give you answers but gives you acceptance and peace with the bubbling questions.

Shiva Sutra ( teachings of Shiva) says “ Hriday Chittasanghatad”  meaning that once your heart and mind are in union every being appears to belong to you. Shiva’s teachings emphasize non-ritualistic spiritual journey. According to teachers of Shiva Sutra, the teachings of Shiva were given to everyone without consideration of color, cast, and creed. You see pictures of Shiva surrounded with animals and simple poor people of lower casts indicating that Shiva dwells in horizontal relationships. Shiva’s teachings tell us that supreme consciousness lives in every form and every form is perfect in itself. Man has no business of thinking himself as someone on top of the heap of evolution.

There is a story that consummate lover Shiva embraced and made love to Parvati and half of her body fused into him. For that reason he is also called Ardhnarishwara (half women and half man god). The symbol behind the allegory is unmistakable. A real man must cultivate and imbue himself with women’s sensibilities. That is only way to achieve good understanding and balanced life.

As mentioned before, Shiva is self- illuminated and beyond death. Contemplating on non- dualistic nature of Shiva, the primordial light, and acting according to virtuous instructions, one attains perfect bliss. These words of Rumi connect so beautifully with Shiva:
I am the real world, giving it endlessly away
Grow rich, flinging gold (to) all who ask
Live, empty heart of paradox
I will dance with you cheek to cheek.

While writing these lines, my thoughts went to a an uplifting and soothing lines from Shiva Sutra:
Namah Sri Sambhave, Svatmananda Prakase Vipuse
( I bow down to the wealth ( Shiva) that brings peace and joy )
While thinking these lines, I find myself uttering Shivoham, Shivoham ( I am Shiva, I am Shiva)
 

Gaze in wonder at ever circling stars, as if you were floating among them; and consider the alteration of elements, constantly changing one into another. Thinking such thoughts you wash away the dust of life on earth
 - Marcus Aurelius

My wife and I recently took a trip to India, during which we attended a Sikh Wedding (Anand Karaj) out in the open airs of Goa against the backdrop of Arabian Sea. The whole affair was organized elegantly with love and full respect to the holy Guru Granth Sahib (Sikh holy book). It was late morning and the waves of the sea were lazily playing with each other. On the far-right end of me, a rivulet was rejoicing its union with the sea. The birth and death of waves was reminding me of a quote I once heard likening us all to butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever. The salt-laden air was adding sugary sweetness to the sound of religious music being played. The combined effect of amniotic pull of the vast expanse of the sea and the soulful rendering of gurbani (spiritual hymns) had levitated me to a different plane of consciousness. It could have been a satori (instant enlightenment) moment, but regardless, I was awakened from my trance by the words, “let us take a walk”.

On the same evening, the wedding reception took place. For my antiquated ears, the music was loud and incomprehensible, so I left the hall earlier than others and went for a walk along the beach. The night was cool; stars in a communal honeymoon spirit were out in full force (something you do not get to see in Philadelphia). The words “let us take a walk” were still ringing through my head. I recalled that these words may be from a book which I have been reading titled “Walking with Nanak” by Pakistani author Haroon Khalid. In the book he has chronicled the places Guru Nanak visited in West Punjab (now in Pakistan) during his life time. The thoughts about Baba Nanak were pulling me into a spiritual discourse with myself like a moth being pulled to the flame.

For a moment, I thought that I am quite often drawn to fuzzy spirituality. A fearful thought sprang - what if my ego is playing a pious fraud with me? However, the thought that I must regardless heed such a calling won over my trepidation. I decided to walk into a world of thoughts illuminated; even if it turns out to be a mere bohemian meandering, it will still be soul lifting if I focused on Baba Nanak’s words.

While thinking all these thoughts, I was gazing at infinite patterns of shapes created by clusters of stars. I thought that the sky must be something like this for him as well. When standing on the shore of cosmic ocean and earth, he may have marveled at the beauty of the universe and asked where is the place from which you take care of all the celestial beings including fire, water, human beings and so on and so forth (so dar keha,so ghar keha - SGGS,P7). In this beautiful thought he sent countless salutations to the intelligence behind the universe. The musical cadence of his thought process was dancing in my head. The voice in my head was telling me that Baba Jee’s words of wisdom are like seeds of awe following of which ing would lead to wonder and experience of mystery.

Baba Jee recited that there are thousands and thousands of universes. The wisdom says that there is no end to the universe. Universes come and go as a matter of routine. His mystical vision had taken him to the other side of the infinity, and he could see this scientific truth hundreds of years ago without satellites with microscopes.

For next couple of days, I kept on thinking that Baba Nanak gave us a very simple panth (path) for liberated living. The tapestry of beautiful hymns gifted by him is interwoven with the concept of Naam, Daan, and Isnaan. It is the essential foundation of Sikhism and the code that dictates a Sikh’s moral and ethical life.

Naam stands for mindful awareness and whole-hearted acceptance of divine presence in every sentient and non-sentient being. The vision that we never separated from source and thus from each other runs through Sikh Philosophy. The central belief of Sikhs that all beings belong to same race and everybody is equal in creators eyes is rooted in the principle of Naam.

Daan stands for touching lives that are not ours in a benevolent and generous ways. A good Sikh is supposed to deliberately effort towards cultivation of generosity with gratitude for evolution of higher consciousness.

Isnaan stands for living by high ethical and moral principles of humanity leading to good deeds resulting in cleansing of body and mind from passion, anger, greed, attachment, and jealousy.

Naam, Daan, and Isnaan in their definition include practice of virtues such as kindness, forgiveness, contentment etc. The practice of this principle in life sculpts the human clay to its most exalted form:

Saach Varat Santokh Teerath, Gyan Dhyan Isnaan
Daya Devta Khima Japmali, Sey Manukh Pardhan
- SGGS P 1284, Raga Sarang, Guru Nanak
(Those who hold truth as their fast, contentment as pilgrimage, kindness as their deity and forgiveness as their rosary-they are the most exalted ones).

During the same visit to India, I went to several historical Gurdwaras. I saw Sikh worshippers taking a sip of water from the place where worshippers wash their feet before entering the shrine. It was at the Gurdwara Sisganj in Delhi (Guru Tegh Bahadur, 9th guru, was martyred here). I saw old men and women working selflessly in the kitchens making food for the worshippers. I saw handicapped men doing circumambulation of Golden Temple by being carried by their grandchildren. At the Golden Temple in Amritsar, I lost myself in the beauty and magnetism of hymns being sung by hymns singers.

I was sitting on the second floor in the Golden Temple for some time. I was about to get up when the singing of the following hymn from the fifth Guru, Guru Arjan Dev Jee started 
Haun Aya Dooron Chal Key, Main Takee to Sharnaye Jiyo
Main Asa Rakhee Chit Meh, Mera Sabo Dukh Gavae Jiyo
-  SGGS, P 763, Raga Suhi 
(I have come so far seeking the protection of your sanctuary, My mind has put hopes in you that you will take away all my sufferings)

A vulnerable looking middle aged lady who was sitting across me started crying at the onset of this hymn. I do not know whether the tears were expression of melancholic joy or outpouring of all the pain and sufferings. For me, I saw my Baba Nanak in her tears. While leaving the complex of Golden Temple, I turned back to have a last look at the glittering temple and thought of devotees of all kind praying and giving meaning to Naam, Daan, Isnaan in their own unique way. Each one of them, as Baba Nanak said,  effable representation of ineffable. I thought of Baba Naank as someone beyond comparison and my eyes could not hold the pride in my heart. The following couplet came on my lips:
Aaina kyon na duun k tamaasha kahein jise
Aisa kahaan se laauun k tum sa kahein jise
(Maybe I should give you a mirror, so that you can watch your own spectacle
 Where can I find another, whom people will consider magnificent)
-Mirza Ghalib
 
 

In the deep glens where they lived, all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.                                                                                                                                                       Cormac McCarthy, “ The Road”

The morning of December 11th, my wife and I, along with our four and half month old granddaughter, were walking along the shore of Pacific Ocean in San Diego. My wife was ecstatic, enjoying the weather and scenery while holding our granddaughter in a baby carrier. As if by alchemy, my granddaughter had transformed my wife into a child. She had a permanent smile etched on her face, beaming with joy while the waves washed her feet, and asking everyone who passed to take pictures (and they obliged generously). I was enjoying these beautiful playful moments.

The waves were cheerfully playing and rolling over each other. In their play, the waves were magnifying the mysterious humming sound of everything in the cosmos thousands of time. It occurred to me that this beautiful tapestry of sounds has been playing since the creation of this universe. In Indian philosophical texts, the humming of the universe is called Anahat Nad (unstruck sound), and this bell is ringing in every living and non-living object. Our earth is perpetually expanding and contracting with the vibrations caused by this hum, The vast expanse of wonder laying in front of me was creating a labyrinth of joy from which escaping at that moment was unfathomable. The ocean oblivious to the presence of people at the shore was working effortlessly to please everyone and anyone.

This reminded me of the following lines from the movie Color Purple:
“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.”

Last week an observatory in Chile got a fingerprint of a massive black hole 800 million times more massive than our sun. Its humming signal took 13 billion light years to traverse the realm of space and time. The signal was generated when the universe was only 690 million years old (current estimated age of the universe is 14 billion years, and age of planet earth 4.6 billion years). One cannot help but marvel at the intricacy and beauty of our inter-connectedness. This humming is like a continuous song of praise and gratitude for the mysterious energy and spirit which is behind this magnificent order.
The existence and experience of the rhythm of the unstuck sound as life giving force made Indian Sages say Aham Brahamasmi (I am the force of the Universe). The songs of praise sung by us quench our thirst for the mysterious and wonderful and connect us with this sound (energy). Every religion realized this aspect of our yearning and incorporated hymns of praise and wonder. In fact many religious thinkers of all faiths believe that the purpose of life is to sing praise(s).

We sing praises for providing reset to our mind and resynch it with that mysterious bell which is ringing in all of the cosmos. In Sikh Holy Book, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, there is a hymn which says that the praise of the lord is my prayer:
​
Gurmat Naam Meraa Praan Sakhaaee, Hari Keerat Hamree Rahraas
May the divine enlightenment obtained through Guru’s teaching be my support of life and the Divine Praises my way of life.
Guru Ram Das, p. 10

The evening of July 14th is permanently etched in our memory. A strange combination of excitement and nervousness had filled the air of the waiting room at the hospital. Then the news broke that a little bundle of joy has arrived, and you and your husband have named her Vaani. We were thrilled with the name, as it exudes a sense of spirituality, literally meaning song of the soul or spiritual voice, also conjuring images of Sarasvati (Goddess of wisdom and music).
​
The news hit us like millions of light photons joyously torpedoing our bones. My little girl, you, had become a mother. My chest got filled with emotions beyond the bounds of expression. That unexpressed joy is now like an unfinished symphony trying to find right notes for the melody. With Vaani’s arrival, the lingering thought that my sojourn on this planet is nearing its end vanished like dew under sunshine. I saw my continuation in her. Pooja and Ashim, we cannot thank you enough for making us feel immortal.

Vaani is one change in our life which changes everything for better. I hope that I get to see the days when this bundle of concentrated sunshine cheerfully does innocuous mischiefs. I can feel in my heart that when she grows up as a young woman, her smiles would cause earthquakes in California.

Pooja, I am very proud of the way and ease with which you and Ashim have embarked on the journey of motherhood. I see nothing about you which does not make me proud. You never disappointed us and I have no doubt that you will be a very good nurturing mother. My piece of advice to you is not to ignore your needs in the process. Invest time in yourself. Engage yourself in fulfilling activities. Take dance or cooking classes. Take piano lessons, or my favorite, take walks in nature. Most importantly, take adequate rest. The time invested in yourself will make you perform the joyful activity of motherhood more efficiently and effectively.

This will be a rewarding, but at times overwhelming, journey. Based on my 35 years of parenthood, here are some thoughts I want to pass on.

• Practice solitude. The poet Rilke said “in solitude your judgements have their quite undisturbed development”. You develop an eye for seeing the things in their depth, a place where wisdom and love flow uninterrupted. The grain of light you carry within you would shine with cool light of thousand suns.  Your everyday life would look richer to you.
• Work hard on creating an environment in your home that fosters education and instills a sense of wonder, awe, and curiosity. Provide an education that supports an experience of wonder, while providing knowledge that does not hinder the art of imagination. When you read a bedtime story, engage in conversation and encourage her to ask questions.
• Always remember to celebrate life, be grateful and invest in prayer. Mornings are a perfect time for celebration. A perfect time to converse with the higher all-knowing spirit with prayer of gratitude. A word of thanks from deep wells of heart is better than thousand mantras. The fragrance created by the prayer of gratitude will fill memory chambers of growing Vaani. This memory will put her on the path of resilience and humility. Remember, prayer is not done for asking but to converse with all pervading spirit. It is song of the soul; whose words start with thank you.
• Before going to sleep, as a regular discipline invite silence into your heart. Recall and restore the beauty that  gets dirt on its mirror during hectic activities of the day. Have her join you when she is a couple of years old. Girls in true sense are their mother’s daughters and they love to imitate.
• Encourage dance and music. Dance with her for no obvious reason. Dance is poetry of motion. Nietzsche once said that the day that does not have dance in it is a lost day. Engage her in music very early. I have tremendous bias in favor of piano. This is the only instrument that establishes neural connections between left and right hemispheres of the brain like no other.
• Let her play in mud. We in the race of modernization have forgotten that moderate play in mud increases immunity. When she grows up to understand her body, tell her that walking bare foot on freshly rain water soaked earth is sensuous and earth at that time is loaded with all kind of antibiotics and such exposure boosts immunity.
• Enjoy nature. This is difficult given our increased obsession with technology, but it’s important to expose her to the beauty of the world. As mother I think it is important that you and Ashim take frequent nature trips and expose her to the mystery hidden behind the beauty of nature. In the presence of nature’s luxuriance sublime feelings and poetic imaginations join to create amplified epiphany. Bejeweled riverbanks, rainbows shimmering through mists of rapids, lightening bugs shining upon clues from stars would create rich tapestry of beautiful words that will permanently get etched on her heart.

 
You must think of your role in Vaani’s early life as that of a gardener. The gardener makes sure that the plant gets adequate sunshine, water, fertilizer, and keeps it free from bugs. In short he/she do everything what is best for the plant. Similarly for Vaani, you are to provide a learning environment where she will flourish, grow and come into her own. Pay attention to her interests and guide accordingly. But do not overload her, which will be counterproductive. Teach her to be kind and respectful to all people, even those who get left behind. You have always been a humble and polite individual, and I urge you to continue to hone these traits and pass them on to Vaani. Remember you are not a sculptor, therefore you cannot sculpt her, but it is the direction and example you provide that will be of importance.

As a young mother a lot of questions would rise in your mind. These are life’s questions. Cherish them with patience and live the questions. One day at appropriate juncture the answers will appear. The answers provided will come from depths where irony does not exist.

We do not get to choose, life is what is in front of us. I hope that she lives with this thought and also knows that her worth is not going to come from what she would do but by becoming a better person and her soul would show in noble action.

I have tried to live by most of what I have said. Some of it is observation. I have lived a very blessed life and these blessings have been secured by wisdom of my ancestors and age-old traditions. I have tried to pass on these in words in this letter to you.

When I die and go to the world to come, they will not ask me: Zusya, why were you not Moses? They will ask me: Zusya, why were you not Zusya?
- Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol
 
The Sikh Holy Book, Sri Guru Granth Sahib (SGGS), starts with the letter Ek Onkar, which means that there is only one ultimate reality that governs the universe. The second word Satnam, means true as well as truth is that reality’s name. With this word, we are given direction showing that in order to experience the beauty of cosmic consciousness and enjoy the countless boons emanating from the experience, one must live a truthful life in accordance with his/her true nature. Rabbi Zusya’s internal tussle stems from knowing that there is no liberation without living a life according to one’s true self.

Often, we live our lives not according to our true nature, but instead by rules and expectations imposed by tradition, culture and religion. We see ourselves through the eyes of others. We are swayed by societal norms like good looks, money, respect from others, raising good children, etc. I saw life from the same angle. Living according to needs of one's true nature was always a project for tomorrow, if at all it was in thoughts. The following lines from SGGS beautifully describe the grasping nature of human beings, which is relentlessly encouraged by society:
Ras Soyena Ras Roopa Kaman, Ras Parmal Kee Vas
Ras Ghore, Ras Seja Mandar, Ras Meetha Ras Maas
Aete Ras Sarir Key, Key Ghat Naam Nivas.
- Srirag Mahala 1 ( SGGS, Page 15)   
                                                                  
(You are submerged in pleasures of owning gold, beautiful women, fragrances, horses, beautiful beds, and palaces. You are busy relishing all kind of sweets and meats. With so much involvement in so many physical pleasures. How can the word of lord enter your heart)

I had in my own way mastered the art of living according to outer modern norms. A time comes in our lives one the rules mastered and lived by do not get you peace and satisfaction. This happens mostly during the second half of life. It is said that in the second half of life, the journey should have different priorities and it should take a turn towards finding oneself.

One cannot live the afternoon of life according the program of life’s morning. For what was great at the morning will be of little importance in the evening and what in the morning was true will at evening have become a lie.
- Carl Jung, The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche

Assuming an average man’s life in USA is 80 years, the afternoon technically would start at the age of 40. I am 65 plus years old and around three years ago I was diagnosed with advanced stage of lung cancer; therefore, I potentially have far less time available. The fear of not having lived as per my true nature started haunting me. 14.7 billion years ago the world was created and the symphony that was created plays outside as well as inside us. I was not in a place to recognize and listen to this inner symphony, and the desire to listen and experience was growing and making me restless.

I began to think about how to go about living this phase of my life. Sikh Gurus did not believe in rituals and dress codes as a path to find the truth, thus I did not prioritize these modes. I thought of going to a spiritual retreat, but then remembered the story of Mulla Naseerudeen; he went to such a retreat. Upon his return, a friend asked him how was it, to which he replied, there were a lot of beautiful women mingling with the crowd and in the end they tried to sell us clothes. I dropped the idea. Then, I thought of reading self-help or spiritual books. Buddhists say reading and not practicing is like having a chicken farm and instead of gathering eggs, collecting chicken droppings. So, while I could gain insight from these ideas, none of them were going to push me into my true realization phase.

The frustration would sometimes generate a deafening cacophony of emotions and sometimes a taunting eerie silence. Anne Lamont once said, “My mind is like a bad neighborhood, I am afraid to go there alone.” I was in similar situation. The mind was still running on old obsolete software.  I prayed for the thoughts to become silent so that I could hear the guiding voice. I prayed to see perforations created by loving arrows of wisdom in those dark heavy clouds of disillusionment. I prayed for new software. I knew that home was somewhere beyond those dark horizons, but I had no map. Herman Hess in Penwolf said that “We have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our home sickness,” and I was homesick indeed.

I read the following lines of SGGS almost every day, but never stopped to ponder at them:
Kiv sachyara hoviye, kiv koorey tutey pahl
Hukum rajaee chalana, Nanak likhiya naal.
(How can one live a truthful life so that all the illusions are broken? Nanak says that it is possible by accepting the universal law and living accordingly)

David Whyte, an American poet, says that poetry is a language against which one has no defense. One has to wrestle with it. As I contemplate on these words again and again, I came to the conclusion that Guru Sahib is telling us that in order to live a truthful life, we must surrender to the will of higher power. Surrendering makes one open to receiving guiding instructions. Hafiz said it beautifully in his following composition:
What is the difference between your existence and that of a saint
The saint knows that I take the spiritual path is sublime, a chess game of God
That the beloved has made such a fantastic move
The saint is continually tripping over joy and bursting with laughter
Saying I surrender
Whereas my dear I am afraid thou still think
That you have thousand serious moves.

I come to the conclusion that surrender is the path. I am beginning to reimagine a new universe, ready to get on new adventure, a new odyssey. When I close my eyes to imagine this path, I see a young boy who enjoyed bicycling, singing melancholic songs, playing lord Shiva in plays, taking walks in wilderness, and going to Sikh Temple every evening at the time of singing praises (Aarti) of the timeless. The boy used to spend hours sitting next to a pond full of lotus flowers. That gave him joy comparable to Nirvana. I have started rediscovering that boy. The process is giving me tremendous joy and the journey continues and as per the words of poet David Whyte, I feel everything is waiting for me.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you

We, unaccustomed to courage, exiles from delight,
Live coiled in shells of loneliness, until love leaves its high holy temple
And comes to liberate us into life
- Maya Angelou

A few days ago, I was alone at home alone, and decided it was the perfect time for an evening date - with myself.

This exercise is not new to me. During my early teen years, I used to walk aimlessly miles and miles lost in fantasies and stories of Gurus, Krishna, Rama, and countless other mythological figures. Even at the peak of my business activities, I rarely worked on Saturdays and instead chose to walk miles and miles lost in another world. With age this exercise has become more difficult as my “mind sink” has accumulated more clutter and noise (that it calls knowledge and experience), making the process of getting lost in imaginative thoughts and fantasies more challenging.

I decided to sit in the backyard with a chilled bottle of Pellegrino (my doctors are drinking my share of wine). The late afternoon rain had helped settle the airborne dust. Consequently, multiple skyways for the light of the stars opened in the northern sky quenching the thirst of novice stargazers like me. The half-moon from the southern sky with a shower of silvery rays was whispering songs of silence to young baby’s feet like leaves of maple tree. The rays were eagerly landing on needles of arborvitae pines to continue the timeless conversation with the trees. I wished to cocoon myself in the realm of this prodigious beauty emanating from the elusive conversation between these forces of the nature. The very thought deepened the experience of solitude.

Upon reflecting on our life’s stories, we learn to honor our journey regardless of our pains, failures, and regrets. The past successes and failures become just a window dressing. We acknowledge that the path to enlightenment is strewn with scar tissues, and the most important thing is that we realize that life is not made for us but we are made for life.

While reflecting on these thoughts, I closed my eyes and saw myself as a young man infected by infantile omnipotence, his boat grappled with life’s waves with impatience and sense of impunity seeking instant gratification. Suddenly, that youth was much older and his boat drifted slowly towards an unknown distant shore. Earlier, his younger mind did not care for guiding light. Now, his mind was less malleable and open, therefore the true light could not penetrate. His mind spent more time judging and analyzing as opposed to true listening. It seemed that the more his mind knew, the less he knew about himself. He saw himself looking for the enlightening source of eternal love to come down from high temple and unshackle him from bonds of ignorance. Then he remembered Rumi’s words:

The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was
Lovers do not finally meet somewhere
They are in each other all along.

That thought made me open my eyes and I saw lady “Awe” had carpeted the whole area with bliss. The moon had moved slightly in the westerly direction. The embrace of its rays and the pines was deliriously romantic. The moon and pines were creating beautiful story by connecting with each other. I realized that all stories require connection. Our stories, mine as well as yours, relate to the eternal spirit by a cloth of love and beauty weaved by the great weaver in deep time.  A sense of joy and happiness overtook my emotions and tears as warm as mother’s milk started coming down:

Since there is no such place to contain so much happiness,
You shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you,
Into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit,
For the moon, but continues to hold it, share it,
And in that way, be known.
- Naomi Shihab Nye

Gaviyee Suniye Man Rakhiye Bhao
Sing from your heart, listen attentively with love

      The founder of the Sikh Way of Life, Guru Nanak, was great believer in the power of singing and utilizing breath (prana) to sing from the soul and connect to the universal spirit’s beauty and virtues. The line quoted above is from the composition called Japji Sahib. Japji Sahib shares the foundation of Sikh Spirituality. In Sikhism, there is an emphasis on working through one’s inner journey and abide by certain key tenets: embrace your individuality, live life virtuously and in service, and understand the purpose of all your actions. The spirit behind all creation is eternal and ephemeral. Singing and listening with love opens the connecting gates for us to this promising truth.
The redemptive effect of soul lifting music was beautifully depicted in the movie Shawshank Redemption. In a depressingly grey atmosphere, the protagonist decides to play opera music. A deeply depressing scene becomes alive as hope dances on the faces of all the inmates.
     Guru Nanak knew that singing was present around nature, and was not just a human creation. He was enamored by songs of birds and their affect on human emotions. In the holy book of Sikhs, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, the following quote beautifully expresses the love for song birds:
                       Babiha Amrit Vele Boliya Ta Dar Suni Pukar
                       Meghe Nuun Furman Hoa Varso Kirpa Dhar
                                        SGGS Page Number 1285,Salok Mahala Teeja, Raga Malaar
                     (Babiha, the song bird, sang in the nectar hours of early morning and then the universal spirit heard his call, The timeless heard the prayer and ordered the rain ( mercy and compassion)  to fall )
      Raga Malaar ( Malhar in Hindi) is mainly sung  during Monsoon Season.In his book Your Brain on Music, the author Daniel Levitin, shares how the human ear loves bird song, insect chirping, and sound of water falling.  During research for this blog, I have pleasantly discovered that the bird Brown Thrasher can sing 2000 songs, and a Horney Chaffinch can sing half a million different tunes with perfect melody in one season. A Hermite Thrush is very special – one could say an Einstein of the world of birds. It sings on  a perfect mathematical substrate that follows harmonic intervals in recognizable pitches. We love bird song due to the fact that the receptors for music in the bird and human brains are similar. Bird song has a profound effect on our parasympathetic nerves, creating the relaxing hormone oxytocin. Realizing this phenomena, the BBC network plays Bird Songs for 90 seconds every morning.
     In some parts of Africa, a woman before conceiving creates spiritual song and for inspiration by  taking daily refuge in the wilderness. Putting faith in the thought that it will provide guidance to the child under all circumstances, she shares the song with all the woman close to her so the song can be sung after the child is born. On every important turn in the child’s life, the song is sung (including the unfortunate case of a child’s death). Research shows that this tradition of song can have a profound positive affect on a child’s journey.
     Guru Nanak strongly believed that the best song is the one that extolls the beauty and virtues of the enigmatic mystery. Listening to the song with inner silence and following the instructions received with loving heart primes the soul to discover its true nature. The Guru Granth Sahib is the only religious body of work that is completely organized by musical substrate of ragas. The technical mastery is important but not necessary; it is the loving emotion which counts. Music divorced from emotions is akin to meaningless noise. The included ragas have been purposefully chosen as they do not elicit extreme emotions or excitement or sadness, but rather provide balance. go away.  Guru Nank in the next line says:
             Dukh Parhar Sukh Ghar Ley Jaaye
            (All the sufferings go away and Joy steps in its place)

     In the silent space during the active listening, a unique path ideally suited to persons true nature appears. Following the path with loving action makes all the sufferings go away.
     Grief and pain are eternally fresh and ever present in our lives. We tend to hopelessly attach to our sufferings, which are born out of attachment to vanity and false pride. Singing, listening and actively following the inspiration ignites million candles of inner prayers spreading a light of contentment, and helps us to come into our true being and becoming. An experience of radiating joy replaces suffering and angst. The wound of the soul heals.
     Further he states that in this state of eternal joy, the words of Guru make us experience a cosmic sound of unstruck sound. A sound which originated at the time of creation and like radio signals from galaxies generated by big bang are still reverberating throughout all the creation. In the same line he further states that the word of Guru are wisdom, a guiding light shinning our path.
     Connecting with eternal virtues and wisdom by experiencing the unstruck sound and living those virtues with wisdom by Guru’s grace makes our hearts still. The lost soul rediscovers itself and we get freedom from tyranny of judgmental thought. The walls of judgment that separate us from others fall apart. We realize that the entire universe is connected as seamlessly as time. Through the new eyes of our reengineered soul we begin to appreciate that all souls are born from the same creator and all are uniquely gifted. A sense of universal brotherhood dawns. William Yates expressed this transformation in the following poem:

We can make our mind so still like water, that beings gather around us
That they may see their own images,
And so live for a moment with a cleaner perhaps even a fiercer life
Because of our quite when we become still. We become a mirror to our own heart
And mirror to others, we are not caught in judgment.
 
     Guru Nanak was totally enamored by the mystery of universe and was always in a state of wonder. While gazing at the celestial bodies he would get into melodic trance and sing praises of the creative force behind the universe.   
     During gatherings of spiritual seekers at his place, the congregation would join him in singing while his companion, Mardana, played the rabab (a string instrument). The rise of collective compassion and communion would levitate the earth. All the fear from their hearts  from fear of being exhumed would sprint to center core of the earth. Power healing. All sorrows eloped with their underpinnings and loving light rushed in. The ensuing joy radiated a sense of beauty and a feeling that they were an integral part of the beauty, not separate from it.
     In the modern era, there is ample proof of the healing power of song. For example, war veterans who attend the singing ceremonies at American Indian Reservations and follow the inspirations are able to handle PTSD a lot better than others. Studies show that the healing effect is powerful and a high percentage stop substance abuse and have far less bouts of violence, as compared to those who undergo conventional treatments.
     While thinking about the effect of spiritual singing with active listening and following the inspiration with love, I remembered a hymn which was popularized by a blind hymn singer around 60 years ago. His name was Bhai Gopal Singh and he with his group use to sing at Golden Temple, the holiest Sikh Temple.
                      Jhim Jhim Verse Amrit Dhara, Man Peevey Sun Shabad Beechara
                      Anad Binod Kare Din Ratee, Sada Sada Har Kela Jeeo.
                                                                                                             Guru Arjan Dev Jee (Fifth Guru)
(As a result of engaged singing with listening) Slowly and gently drop by drop, the stream of nectar of immortality trickles down within. The mind drinks it in by reflecting on the meaning of the wisdom being conveyed) 

One moment of anger can wipe out a lifetime of merit.
 - Shantideva
A Guide to Bodhisattva’s Way of Life
 
Looking in the rearview mirror, the events of past 6 months look surreal. We have become a civilization wounded by our own anger and actions. Our collective actions are infused with a naked dance of hatred, bigotry, and anger as never seen before, bleaching the moral standing of the whole country meticulously earned over centuries of dogged pursuit of virtues by our forefathers.

I was not an innocent bystander, but a loyal member of a self-righteous echo-chamber, loudly labeling the other side with choicest, negatively optimized, words. My world, like many others’, was completely trapped in consensual hallucination with likeminded persons.  Our anger was generated by the feeling that the country was heading in the wrong direction and we were powerless.           

Now, at least for me, the vision clogging dust is settling down, although it looks that the journey of acceptance is going to be arduous and will have some hiccups. I try take time and look underneath the burning amber of anger to find pearls of wisdom buried in my unconscious. These pearls tell me how to understand nature and embark on a path of peace, and hydrate the anger so it does not become an uncontrollable fire. The starting quote of Shantideva is an important reminder that the antidote of anger is the practice of patience.

Old wisdom accepted the fact that anger is part of our nature to varying degrees, never going away. We are beckoned to transform its energy into something positive. A twelfth century Sufi Saint, Baba Sheikh Fareed, talked about this idea in the following couplet:
Fareeda bure da bhala kar, gusa man na handaaye
Dehee rog na lagayee, pale sab kuch paayey
(Do not hold and process the anger within your mind and body but process it by doing good to the ones who have done bad deeds to you.
The benefit in it will accrue to you. Your body will remain healthy and you will have boon of peace and equanimity)

The unearthing of this pearl gives me some solace and peace. Then another incomprehensible tweet hits the airwaves and I again get shaken out of my wits. 
 
I try to understand the mindset of people who voted for him. I remember that during the peak of my restaurant business, I had 8 running units in Wilkes-Barre and Scranton area of Pennsylvania. I employed over a couple of hundred men and women and came in close contact with them. Most of them were hard working people, and they were not racists or bigots. This is an area that overwhelmingly voted for Trump. We from the opposing side do a great disservice by painting them with a broad negative brush. We who are intoxicated with libation of mutual superiority forget that our necks are joined with those  “Red Necks” we apparently despise so passionately. It is said that collective anger is born of hopelessness, homelessness, and isolation. All these factors were present in the lives of our ignored brethren.
​
Suppressed and ignored anger is like volcano. At its core, where the dragon of hot destructive lava rests, is the quietest place. The anger of masses is akin to lava, silently burning in their hearts.  We do not possess the powers to stop volcano from erupting but we have the wisdom to recognize the anger, understand it, and transform its energy for good deeds. The necessary pearl of wisdom to do so here is networking and community involvement.

Lord Buddha said that Sangha (community) is a powerful tool for transformation of negative impulses to positive. Reintegrating the alienated back into circle of networks is like tying a knot on two ends of a broken thread. The knot becomes the strongest part of the thread.

Such pearls of wisdom, while helpful, are not putting lid on my restlessness. I see a pandemic of anger and there seems to be no inoculation. Everybody is jubilantly participating in Pandemonium Orchestra singing Angry Euphoria. I wonder, why most of the people are wearing anger on their noses. That brings me to Thomas Merton. In my opinion, he understood the main cause of anger. He said, “the rush and pressure of modern life were a form, perhaps the most common form, of contemporary violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone and everything is to succumb to violence.” Our modern life is stretching the fabric of life so much so that it is ripping apart creating loneliness, fear, loss of direction, loss of company of friends and family, and loss of self-worth. This in my opinion is the main cause behind creation of angry civilization and loss of direction.

Pondering on Thomas Merton’s insight on the source of anger tells me that part of the solution lies in dialing down and saying hello to life. Thinking about this reminds me of a beautiful song from a Indian movie, Guide, which goes like this:
What is the rush O fellow traveler, in this transient world nobody is waiting for you, so where are you heading? Sit down under the shade of this tree and rest (your soul). You may never again find comfort of this cool shade.

According to Zen Buddhists, we all have the potential to experience appreciation of the beauty of time. It requires cultivating Bodhi Chitta, a state of Awakened Heart. In this state, there is no anger, attachment or judgment, only acceptance and a state of joy. Attaining a state of joy is a goal-less goal, a pursuit with patience, whose beginning and end is within us. An awakened heart is a happy heart, happily spreading joy around. Like an alchemist an awakened heart’s touch transforms other hearts into Gold. I have Chitta which still gets angry but no bodhi to guide me out of this delusional darkness.

I need healing hands of an Awakened Heart, but I realize that I do not have the luxury of physical time to wait and even if that person came in front of me how would I recognize him? I cannot see through the fog of ignorance which is obstructing my vision. Therefore, I push myself to sit silently in meditation and reflect on the nature of anger. In silently gazing at my inner self, I see brokenness scattered everywhere and from it a saying of Persian Poet Hafiz floats up lifting my spirits:
I am
A hole in a flute  
That the Christ’s breath moves through
Listen to this
Music.

Charan Vai Madhu Vindati
(Wandering one gathers honey)
 - Aiterya Brahmana, 7:15.5

These past few November weeks have been exceptionally warm for this time of year; sometimes it touches the 60s in and around the Philadelphia area, resulting in pleasant afternoons ideal for spending some time in nature. On one such afternoon, I decided to go for a long walk on a trail close to where I live. The trail leads into Fort Washington State Park, and much of the trail runs close to Wissahickon Creek.

I set out for my walk around two in the afternoon. A cool breeze was flowing, making the crisp sunlight very aromatic. The rays of sun were hugging the brown grasses like newly married couples. It appeared as if the Greek Sun God and Earth God decided to come out of their graves on this very day and, in the ecstasy of their dance, were leaving tracks of light and shade on the hallowed grounds. The leafless trees, totally oblivious to their glorious nudity, were shamelessly bathing in the sunlight.  I sat down for a moment on a bench by the side of the creek. Before sitting I had not realized that on the other side of the creek a doe and her fawn were standing; they both looked at me and with majestic rejection of my intrusion in their space, turned around and walked back into their paradise. I thought in one respect they are superior to us. We humans do not know how to live fully in the present - we constantly drag the garbage from past, convert it into a monster called future and as a result the present gets totally obliterated. These animals live in timeless eternity called the present moment without baggage of past or worries for future.

I felt this timelessness in the flow of the creek and in the sound made by a bird flying overhead. There was an unquenchable thirst in me to stretch this moment before it was broken by another thought. The thought of clinging to this experience was itself what propelled me away from my trance. Though, for at least that tiny moment, I felt like I had experienced a sense of timelessness. I remembered the following piece of wisdom from Rumi: The past is an interpretation. The future is an illusion. The world does not move through time as if it were a straight line, proceeding from the past to the future. Instead the time moves through and within us, in endless spirals. Eternity does not mean infinite time, but timelessness.

We all experience the taste of this timelessness in different moments of extreme feeling – maybe looking at your child smiling for the first time or perhaps listening to music that transforms you into a state of peaceful trance. Unfortunately, afterwards, we are only left with an altered memory. Our mind incessantly churns out thoughts and in the resulting cacophony, the call of our heart gets drowned. The experience of timelessness relies on the journey of mind to heart to hear the song of silence in between its beats.

Buried in my thoughts I had started walking again. My thoughts returned to the park by observing a nearby man and woman. They were totally oblivious to their surroundings and each other, like two disembodied beings, and were occupied likely talking to two disembodied beings elsewhere. They had intruded my space much the same way I had in the space inhabited by the deer. My thoughts went on to the dead leaves yearning to give their essence back to earth by completing the circle. Tickled by the light wind, they were giggling and flying from place to place. Just a few weeks ago, these leaves were a riot of colors rejoicing in their eminent death. In India, it is said that mystics radiate colors of spirituality before their death, which only enlightened kindred spirits can see and appreciate. The dying leaves do not discriminate; they enchant and enlighten everyone who is willing to look and hear.

After walking a little more than two miles, I reached the bird watching station within the park. I was going to take a seat at a bench. A senior couple reached at the same time, so I gave the seats to them (my vanity was very pleased with me for this act of generosity). For some inexplicable reason I sat down under a tree on a bed of leaves. I started thinking about my walk in the park: my encounter with the deer, my study of Rumi’s quote, and my easy ability to get lost in a thought when I’m in nature. I intuitively know that the time is within us and how we relate to it gives meaning to eternal life. I think that each person can find such meaning in their work, in their connectedness with nature, with friends and family, and most of all in by spending a few minutes a day in contemplative solitude.
It was a matter of time before a few of those giggling leaves fell on my lap. Looking at the “dead” leaves, a thought entered my mind: I am not going to die of cancer but instead, die of being lived. My mind and heart were in unison, agreeing in chorus that this was indeed an enlightening, not morbid, thought.

When I started working on my next blog, I was planning on writing about the virtues of kindness. As I sat down to write, I was suddenly gripped by pain in the lower part of my legs and soles of my feet. The intensity of that pain was like somebody pushing nails in my legs with a force only a devil could muster. My current cancer treatment causes edema (the collection of fluid) and neuropathy (pain and irritation of nerves). While I have adopted some practices to mitigate the swelling and pain, there are still points of unbearable pain. These episodes usually do not last for more than a couple of minutes. After discharging all its power, the pain goes into a recovery zone to recharge, leaving me with a residual, but manageable pain. While I often try and successfully manage to escape it, like a few times before, I fell into a curse of self-pity. Somehow, I began to think of how others throughout history have tolerated unbearable pain and dire circumstances, and my thoughts went to Guru Gobind Singh Jee, the 10th Guru of the Sikhs.

Our tenth Guru was a remarkable man. For this blog, the unacquainted reader should know that he was very young when his father was executed by then Mughal king of India. From the childhood, he faced uprooting, adversity, war, and in the process he lost his mother, all four sons, and his wife. The vast empire used all its resources to kill him and his disciples. However, he remained optimistic and encouraged everyone to live life like a lion. I have always been drawn to learning about the life of Guru Gobind Singh Jee, and a story about he and his disciples traveling the Macchiwara forest is particularly interesting to me. Stories like these remind me of the incredible journeys and lessons of our ancestors, and the light they shine on my dark and depressing nights tell me that with acceptance, peace and bliss is around the corner.

There was a battle between Mughal forces and a few Sikhs at a place now called Chamkaur Sahib. The Sikhs lost the battle against overwhelmingly vast forces of Mughals was lost. Among the martyred were Guru Jee’s two sons (known as Sahibzadas), one 16 and the other 14. It was the heart wrenching night of December 5, 1705; the night was as dark as a tiger’s stripe with an unusually low hanging half- moon. The defeat of Guru Jee's armies at the hands of treacherous Mughal armies made the moon cry out so much with its silvery tears that it had turned pale. Guru Jee, taking advantage of dark night at the insistence of his disciples along with three Sikhs, Bhai Maan Singh, Bhai Daya Singh, and Bhai Dharam Singh escaped from the strangled fort. All of them separated to meet again at a designated spot in Macchiwara forest that was situated at around 15 miles from the besieged fort. Guru Sahib being blessed with higher agility entered the forest first and his entry blissfully woke up the soul of the forest. With some creative license, I would like to share rest of this powerful, inspiring story with you through the eyes of an observant parrot. Destiny had chosen her as witness of the journey of Guru Jee and his companions during the night .The next morning she narrated the story to her male companion…

It was very strange - a kind of magical night, I should say. A blanket of silence got spread over the entire jungle. The silence wearing a thin and shinning white cloth came to me and asked me to get up because I have to narrate for future generations what I was about to witness. The crickets had stopped their noisy warfare, and the lighting bugs instead of flickering were giving constant light. All the small creatures had lined up on both sides of the new pathway lit by the lighting bugs. I remembered that our ancient mothers had told us that these miraculous happenings are very signs that a great soul is present among us, and I knew that was happening. Then a heavenly fragrance started wafting through the forest and I saw someone entering the forest. He, for a second, looked up at our, tree and then started walking on the path lit by the bugs while transporting every creature to land of rapture and bliss.

After some time, three men arrived one by one and gathered under our tree. This was amazing, considering this place has so many rosewood trees, that they chose this very tree. I am sure that the great being wanted these men to stop here. As they talked, I learned about them – their names, background and where they were coming from. It seemed that they had come from a big battle. They were using words such as Sacha Padshah (True King) or Guru Sahib for the great being, and referring to his sons as sahibzadas. It did not look like they only a few hours ago they had fought a great battle and lost so many of their friends, including two sahibzadas. Their long flowing beards were shinning an aura of kindness on their silhouettes. Bhai Daya Singh looked at stars and said to others, “Do you brothers know that the timeless created the stars to give us company on nights. Gazing at them opens up a spring of quite rapture within our hearts beckoning us to know ourselves. We after all are made of stars.” Bhai Dharam Singh was a bit emotional and asked how he could be thinking of stars. “My heart and mind cannot keep away from thinking of the sahibzadas. I remember their singing. One could hear celestial harmonies within the harmonies of their voices. Their singing of hymns would open a spring of graceful peace in our hearts which will keep filling the vessel of our hearts until it started overflowing with joy and all of us would start singing with them as one universal consciousness. I remember the moonless nights when sahibzadas and we would trek 20 miles or so to swim in Sirsa River. The slow moving Sirsa would come to life the moment the sahibzadas touched its water. The small eddies would become alive and rhythmically start slapping the rocks to give company to sahibzadas’ voices. I know that it was God’s will and we have been taught over and over to accept what has happened, but sometimes heart and mind both drift and wish the things were different.”

The male parrot was completely mesmerized by his companion’s memory and in his listening trance, he imagined the encounter as if he was there among the Sikhs. He asked her not to pause and carry on. She continued with what was said by Bhai Maan Singh - “Brothers, do not forget the depth of Guru Sahib’s lesson to us on acceptance. Right now rather than complaining about the loss of his sons, he is probably yearning for the company of the timeless one. He would be saying that nothing is more important to him than loving God’s presence he would be praying that almighty’s grace to be ever-present with him.” He continued to say that Guru Jee taught us that ascending and descending are part of life. When life goes into a descending pattern, getting walled in does not solve the problem but makes it worse. Those who are brave get up and confront the realty with rigor and spirit. It is because of his teachings and examples set by him that death is perplexed at our audacity of being alive after what we have gone through.

Very soon after that they all got up and started moving and in hushed voices started singing:
Re Man Aiso Kar Sanaysa.
Ban Se Sadhan Sabhai Kar SamJhau, Man Hi Mahe Udasa

(Practice non attachment as follows
Consider all the dwellings to be forest. Remain detach at heart)

Sometimes they would sing together, and sometimes one would take the lead. I followed them. After an hour or so, we reached the well on the other end. Guru Jee was sitting there and he was in deep trance. From the deep well of meditative trance a voice was coming out. Looking at him, you would not believe that this was someone who in the last few days has lost everything including whole family. There was no sign of sorrow or pain. He was like grace personified. You know this forest is notorious for its thorns, but his unearthy voice was changing the texture of thorns around the well into silk. The melancholy in the voice was a soulful heart wrenching prayer for the beloved - the beloved who created us all. I cried; all beings around cried. To hear the prayer more closely, the stars were moving downwards. It has been millions of years since they had heard a prayer of such intensity that their core started melting with compassion and they along with listening wanted to have a look at him, their own brother, a star radiating like thousand suns. The hymn went something like,
Mitr Pyare Noon, Haal Muridan da kahna
Tudh Bin Rog Rajaian Da Odhan, Nag Nivasan De Rehna
Sul Suarahee, Khanjar Pyala, Bing Kasayian Da Sahna
Yaarare Da Sanu Sathar Changa, Bhath Kherean Da Rehna

(Tell the beloved friend (Almighty), the plight of his seekers that without you wearing blankets for comfort is like wearing disease. Comfort of house is like living with snakes. Water pitchers are like thorns, tumbler is like a dagger. Without you, we suffer like animals suffer at the hands of butchers. With you, the bed of straw is more pleasing than the costly mansions, which (mansions) , without you are like furnaces)

We were all under the magical spell of Guru Jee’s voice. The moment he stopped singing and opened his eyes a white falcon appeared and sat on his shoulder. Guru Jee smiled, looked at the falcon and his Sikhs all got up. All of them with folded hands performed what they called Ardaas (prayer). Then they left. The whole Macchiwara seemed to be awestruck. It never thought that someday a great being would visit the forest. At that time I thought that Macchiwara would become immortal in the history of Sikhism and Hindustan, but nobody would remember this parrot for telling the story on what happened the previous night.

The last thought brought tears to parrot’s eyes. A soft wind carried the tears back to the well and dropped them in the well merging them with the sound of the hymn, mitr piyare noon, the music and sound of which still reverberates through the well.