tin mangaa ji tujhai dhiyaa-idey
I beg for the company of those who contemplate on YOU.
There is so much Love in that tukk from Asa Ki Vaar. I not only yearn for you, my Love, but I also only want to be surrounded by people that Love you as well, so that, through my interaction with them, I never stop Loving you and may Love you even more.
The last three years have been the absolutely most blessed years of my life while simultaneously being some of the most difficult. I’ve felt lost and at the end of the road, have failed in school, struggled to form and maintain relationships while dealing with depression, and have fought with myself to try and reclaim who I used to be—whoever that was. Amidst all of these difficulties, however, was the magic, the spark, the MIRACLE of meeting, courting, and falling in Love with my Guru.
I can’t describe what changed. My mom was religious but my dad wasn’t. I kept my hair because my dad would be furious if I didn’t. I wasn’t allowed to shave or do my eyebrows but I did anyways, trying to remain discreet about it. How was I supposed to go to P.E. with hair on my legs? We went to the gurdwara often enough, but I didn’t grow up learning Keertan or Baani.
When I started college, I cut my hair, got a new wardrobe, learned how to do my make-up, and got thin. I don’t know why I changed my appearance—I can’t explain the logic. It was so long ago, even if I could explain, I wouldn’t remember. Maybe I just wanted to be attractive. I had been going out with someone for a year by the time I started college—maybe I just did it for him, but most likely not. I remember, though, that throughout that year, I would catch glimpses of my reflection and not feel like myself. I didn’t recognize that person anymore. That first year was a nightmare for various reasons. Looking back, I can see that I was depressed, but I didn’t realize the mental cloud I had just passed through until I saw that I had just come out of one.
Toward the end of the year, I met students at my school from the local Sangat. I hadn’t had any friends like them before. My experience with them was so shocking and new to me. I saw that people my age were involved in Sikhi and in the gurdwara and it wasn’t just for older people.
At the beginning of that summer I attended my first Sikh conference. That summer I learned Keertan. That summer I learned Gurmukhi. I attended one more camp and closed my summer with a retreat. I had never been a part of discussions about Sikhi, about Vaheguru, or about the Divine. I had never been around Sangat like that—and they were PEERS. By the end of that summer, I was absolutely imbued with Love for my Guru, whom I had taken for granted all my life.
I have been asked so many times what did it for me. And I can’t explain. All I know is that I fell in Love. It was the first time, I think, that I felt like I was myself. Because who are we really? Guru Saahib tells us:
man too(n) jot saroop hai apNaa mool pachhaaN
We are jot-saroop. When that jot is yearning for Gurbaani and Love for Vaheguru, of course one would feel complete when that thirst is satiated. My problem was that I didn’t even know what I had been missing. It’s also possible that the circumstances that caused that emptiness—that dukh—were the very things that caused the realization of that void, which I could then fill with Gurbaani. By the end of the summer, I was so in Love I thought that that momentum could take me all the way to Amrit.
Then I came back to school. This meant I could see my boyfriend again. Oh yea, that’s right…I forgot I had one of those. I came out of that summer with a new Love. I was a new person. It was undeniable. He noticed. We had been going out for two years. The first year I was a dork, and the second year I was an updated version of myself—in his eyes—and there was no going back for him.
For the next couple years, I struggled with the balance of pleasing this guy I thought I loved and with maintaining my growth in Sikhi. Even though I had found Sikhi and my Guru, my relationship with this guy diseased my life and I was still depressed. The emotional pressure to which I was subjected was too much. It was too much because I KNEW I Loved my Guru. I KNEW what my Guru wanted from me. I KNEW how it was that I could show that I Loved my Guru. And KNOWING was the worst part. I felt like a BEMUKH—I knew exactly what was expected of me and I wasn’t being able to commit myself fully. I was acting like I didn’t know any better, but I did. I still went to conferences and camps and I saw people who I had met there a couple years earlier and noticed how different they were. I was different too! But how could anyone tell without speaking to me? I wanted my exterior to match the changes of my interior.
My closest friend noticed that I was living this double life. She saw the love I had for Sikhi and for my community and saw how that passion was put on mute for the time I spent with my boyfriend, who did not enjoy hearing anything Sikhi-related. She talked to me about it and I came to the same realization. Before it ended officially, my relationship had been dead for a while, but neither of us acknowledged it. It was so difficult ending my first relationship, one that had gone for four years. Meanwhile, I was noticing Singhs and wondering how beautiful it would be to be with someone who understood me and felt the same way about Sikhi. There was one such Singh that I ended up having a spontaneous conversation with. I opened up to him about my dilemma and about how I wanted to end this relationship but didn’t know how. At the end of the conversation he said,
“For me, Sikhi is the number one priority.”
My heart did flips and turns and somersaults and jumps and dances! There were Singhs out there who thought this way! Singhs who felt like I did! Who could love Sikhi as much as I do! I had to overcome the moh—attachment—that I had for that lengthy relationship. No more compromising on my Guru! No more compromising myself! When I met people and they told me they saw so much potential in me, I always felt guilty knowing that I wasn’t everything they thought I could be. NOW I COULD BE. Everything I wanted and everything my Guru wanted was possible.
After ending that relationship, I was afraid for a while that maybe even Singhs out there weren’t down with kesh. After a couple months of soul-searching, however, I realized I needed to do what was right for me. I decided to keep my kesh and have never been happier, but I know that whether I kept my kesh or not, I would find someone who loved me for me and the Guru within me. Who’s to say that sardaars can’t have the same love for Sikhi as I do and wouldn’t want the same kind of devotion from their partner as I would want in mine?
Back to the Gurbaani line with which I began. Doing Asa Kee Vaar every Sunday morning for the last year and a half has left me with a handful of favorite tukks from that straight-up-in-your-face-I-ain’t-playin’ Baani. That one is definitely one of my favorites. The importance of our Sangat and the people we keep around us is absolute. We should be able to feel our Love for our Guru through the people around us as much as we do in ourselves. Our Sangat should help us grow and not hold us back. When my relationship was making me feel incomplete, this line really stood out to me. I felt that a prayer like that—to want to be so engrossed in Love for the Guru that you want everyone around you to be a part of that same Love—was so exceptionally special. It was a prayer that my heart had been singing and I had been ignoring—one that I don’t have to ignore any longer.
Guru Fateh,
Sulakhani