Amongst great Sikh women warriors, Mai Bhago probably is the most well-known and well-respected. When forty Sikhs deserted Guru Gobind Singh jee during a Moghul siege, it was chiefly Mai Bhago who rallied them to re-seek the sanctuary of the Guru. Come with us now, back in time to that fateful day. The story that follows is a fictional, first-hand account of the wife of one of those forty Sikhs (who Sikhs remember every day in their prayer as the "chalee mukte" or "the 40 liberated ones").
A sound from Pita Jee's room woke me up. I looked out of my bedroom window at the dark landscape and guessed it to be nearly midnight.
I listened carefully and heard Pita Jee trying to get out of his bed. I got up quickly and ran to his room. Approaching his 90th birthday, he had been getting increasingly weak, but continued to refuse help, doing things his own way.
Pita Jee was my father-in-law. Our love for each other had developed into father-daughter love; and then over time transcended into spiritual-love. When I had come to this house, I didn't know anything about gurbani (Guru's writings). He had patiently taught it to me; instilling the meanings of gurbani into my heart. He wouldn't ever let me read a line without first reflecting on its meaning.
One of his favorite lines was Naam is the cure for all ills (Guru Arjan Dev ji, sggs 274).
He not only evoked it frequently, but lived it too. He had never gone to the village doctor. Instead he relied on gurbani, insisting the true physician is the Guru. Whenever scolded by Mata Jee, my mother-in-law, he would sing My doctor is the Guru (Guru Arjan Dev ji, sggs 618)
If ever he did get sick (which happened more often as he aged), he would simply ask someone (usually me) to read gurbani at his bedside. It never failed to amaze me how gurbani affected him. I could actually see his face change color from pale to bright red after hearing just a few gurbani lines. In fact he used to declare that he only got sick when he didn't get enough gurbani into his blood!
I briefly knocked on his door before entering it – I was right, Pita Jee was trying, quite unsuccessfully, to get up from the bed. I ran up to him and whispered so as not to wake Mata Jee who was snoring away, "WHAT are you doing?"
He held on to my shoulder and said, "I need some gurbani!"
I whispered, "Do you realize its midnight?"
He nodded and after sitting up told me, "There is something very wrong, daughter, very wrong!"
He had been complaining about something being wrong for a few days now and I, for one, couldn't pinpoint anything wrong with him. He ate well, went for his daily walks, discussed gurbani enthusiastically and had slept soundly, up until a few moments earlier.
I sat close to him and asked, "What's bothering you, Pita Jee?"
He smiled weakly, "I don't know, dear one. Just something inside me has dried up. I feel as if my whole foundation has been shaken. I just don't know, I just don't know – I have never felt like this. Perhaps my time has come and this is what it is supposed to feel like??" He looked at me for re-assurance.
Inside, I knew he might be right, perhaps the time had come for him to go, but I smiled and said, "Hey! How will the world survive without you?"
His weak smile reached his eyes this time and he said, "Please read some gurbani."
After reciting Jap Ji Sahib, I asked Pita Jee if he felt any better. He looked sadly at me, "A little better but the … emptiness is still here," he answered clutching his heart - this really worried me.
After giving him a drink of water, I gently put him back to bed. On my way to my room, I heard someone trying to open the back door! My heart missed a beat. At this hour, only a thief would be prowling about! I coughed loudly to warn the thief of my presence. The door swung open creakily.
My hand went to my kripaan (sword), "Oh Guru Jee, please help me!" I prayed.
The intruder stumbled around in the dark; I stood there frozen, wishing the prowler would go away or I that would wake up from this nightmare. The burglar found a lantern and lit it! How daring! I had to do something. I mustered my courage and called out - lowering my voice as much as I could and trying to sound as brave as possible, I demanded, "Who is there?"
"It's me," replied the wavering voice of my husband!
I ran and hugged him. "Oh, my love; you have come back … alive and well!!" He hugged me back weakly. "Let me look at you!" I said pushing him back a little to get a good look at him.
I knew he would be lean and thin after so many months of war and hunger, but seeing the emptiness in his eyes shocked me into complete silence! For a moment, I thought there had been a mistake and that I embraced a stranger. I almost let go of him - I had never seen him like this. The man I held resembled a weak and broken shadow of my husband. Something was horrifically wrong!
He saw the shock in my eyes. I prodded him silently to tell me what had happened to him? He lowered his eyes and asked, "Is there any food?"
In a way, I was glad he didn't tell me right off. I wanted to prepare myself mentally first. As I warmed up food leftover from the night before, I went through all the possibilities of what could have gone wrong. Perhaps he had received some bad news from my village? Perhaps the battle had been lost and the Fort given up to the Moghuls? Perhaps… perhaps.. the Guru had fallen? No, it could not be possible. I would have felt it. Then my heart sank - perhaps this is what had made Pita Jee uneasy! I silently prayed, "O Guru, make me strong."
Pita Jee and Mata Jee had woken up, but quite surprisingly the children still slept. They came and welcomed their son - they hugged him asking lots of questions.
He gave short answers and kept his eyes on the floor. Mata Jee, like always, carried on and on, "Oh, it's so good to see you. You should sleep, my son, you look very tired. You're too thin. Eat something. Ahhh, good! Here's warm food, and your favorite too… perhaps the Guru knew that you would be coming? Eh?" She trailed off into an awkward silence...
My husband ate slowly and silently, looking at the food with apparent disgust. Eating seemed to become more and more unpleasant for him with each bite. He pushed away the plate, leaving most of the food untouched. He tried to get up, but he appeared confused. He sank back down, staring at the food with lost, bewildered eyes. Pita Jee and I looked at each other.
Had his parents not been there, I would have held my husband close and comforted him. I touched his arm and asked, "Sleep?" He slowly nodded and tried get up but just dropped down again. He bent over and put his face into his hands resting his head on his knees.
Mata Jee's face contorted in anguish as she insisted "My son, go to sleep. Whatever has happened, it will feel better after a good night's sleep…."
My husband replied slowly, "No mother, it will not."
Pita Jee finally spoke up, "OK, Son. We need to know what is going on!"
My husband sat in silence. Pita Jee asked the question we all had dreaded asking, "Is .. is the Guru … alright?" To our relief, my husband nodded.
Pita Jee decided that whatever had occurred, needed to be drilled out of his son. So he started his interrogation, "Is the Guru safe?"
"Yes, as far as I know. When we left, he was still in the Fort," my husband answered.
"So why did he ask you to leave?" Pita Jee asked.
No reply came from my husband. This visibly concerned his father. "Answer me!" he almost shouted raising his frail voice.
"He .. he .. did not say to go," my husband stammered.
"What do you mean, he didn't say to go?" asked our perplexed Pita Jee, "You mean you left without permission ... against his wishes?!"
My husband nodded his head. "You don't understand," he replied in a tortured voice, jumping up agitatedly. Suddenly quite animated and verbose, as if a flood gate had been opened, the words spilled out. "Our relentless attackers lay siege to our fort, cutting off our supply routes completely. We went without proper food for months. In desperate hunger we ate whatever we could find - even the trees within the Fortress. We stripped them bare of leaves which we boiled and ate; and fed their branches to our Ponies.
The Moghul forces sent messages offering save passage. They said that we, along with our… with the Guru could leave. The Guru refused. We pleaded with him to go, but without any success. He insisted we would be walking out into a trap. Finally a few of us, 40 to be exact, decided on our own to leave. We didn't want to face a meaningless death by starvation! Our presence only added to the burden of hunger the others faced." He walked over to the window and peered out into the dark night.
"Guru had us sign a bedava, a decree which declared that the Guru is no longer our Guru and we are no longer his Sikhs. We left the very same night …." He trailed off, turned around and sat down as if the last bit of energy in him had been spent justifying himself. He looked older and more worn than even Pita jee, who appeared even more stunned than the rest of us. I could not believe my ears. My mind could not take this in - my husband is no longer a Sikh of Guru Gobind Singh jee?! How could this have happened to a man whose very being revolved around the Guru? What madness drove him to this state?
After a long silence, Pita jee stood up with a fury usually only witnessed in much younger men. He flung the plate of uneaten food at my husband's face. Lentils splashed his face, smearing his beard and dripping to the floor. My husband didn't flinch from the impact nor attempted to clean his beard. He just sat there unmoving and shamed - his eyes still and cold, like 2 black lumps of coal.
Pita jees eyes flared, flaming like two red hot fiery burning pieces of coal. He lowered his voice. When he spoke he trembled with icy reserve. His words contained such impact they cause my husband to recoil.
Pita Jee pointed to the food on the floor. "You gave up Sikhi for this?!" He demanded, "Now eat it! EAT IT!! Eat this and fill yourself to your spineless content! I can't believe that you are my Son! Do you have any idea of the sacrifices my father made to get Sikhi?! You have thrown it away for food you won't even eat. You ungrateful … dog! Lick it from the floor. I am completely shamed by your actions! This family is forever disgraced!"
Then his fury turned to his wife, "I can't believe he came from your womb! Why did we bring such a son into this world? Why?!"
We sat in absolute silence for a few minutes. Even Mata Jee, who had never before let Pita jee go uninterrupted for long, sat unspeaking with a grave look on her face. Pita Jee hobbled over to a wall where his old sword hung. He turned around and said, "You slunk away when you were needed the most by the Khalsa. I," he straightened up "will have to bring honor back to this family!" His frail hands lifted the sword as he determinedly stated, "I will go and fight along the Guru!"
In his youth he had fought alongside Guru Hargobind Sahib Jee. He refused to let old age get in the way of his determination to continue fighting for the Guru! But alas, his aged body could not support his fighting spirit. He couldn't even unsheathe his sword despite many determined attempts. He let it slip from his hands disgusted with himself. He crumbled to the floor holding his head in his hands and wept.
Mata Jee slowly got up; turning to her son she said, "Rest, my son, the Guru will …" she stopped. Usually she would insist, "The Guru will take care of everything," but couldn't bring herself to say it. She went over to Pita jee and helped him walk to their bedroom.
Only I remained in the room with my husband. He looked at me pleadingly. He wanted reassurance from the person who he knew loved and supported him the most. I looked away, my confusion apparent. I couldn't meet his eyes. Wondering how this could have happened to him I took his hand. I cleaned his beard, drew his head on my shoulder and stroked his face. I knew, more than words, he needed my comforting touch. As though I could somehow redeem and relieve his anguish, he clung to me.
I knew from experience that he needed to let go of the grief and guilt clouding his heart before I could talk to him effectively. I felt his body heave as his tears came, flooding from him, shaking his fragile body. Between sobs he looked at me despairingly, "I am so sorry!" he insisted repeatedly. "I miss the Guru so much. I see His face continually. It never leaves me. I cannot sleep or eat. How could I have let him down … how?"
I held him close until all his tears had been released. I helped him up and took him to our bedroom and lay him on our bed.
I whispered softly "Sleep my love, sleep now, we will talk later."
He turned to me and asked me like a child would ask a mother, "What should I do?"
I whispered urgently, "You MUST go back and fight alongside the Guru!"
He shook his head, "No, there is no strength left in me. My Naam has gone! I am but a wasted walking skeleton now."
He wanted to say more but I softly interrupted him, "Sleep my love, sleep."
He slowly drifted off.
I thought about the situation. One thing seemed certain; my husband's wasted body, devoid of spirit could no longer fight. Neither could Pita jee's frail body, despite his devotion go to battle. So … so … I could think of only one alternative. I had to do it! I had the strength. I had vigor, vitality and valor. I would redeem my family's honor fighting alongside my Guru. It seemed so simple, why hadn't I thought of this before?! I felt a smile break across my face like the sun dispelling a dark cloud. In relief, I grinned giddily, gleefully ecstatic.
Carefully removing the sword from my sleeping husband, I put it on. Its weight steadied me. I felt a kind of calm and surety of purpose. Like all Khalsa, I had undergone martial training. My fighting spirit awoke rising within me. Although I had never seen any battles, there is always a first time, I thought to myself - I felt confident in my Guru's guidance. I hummed to myself excitedly. I felt ready to die fighting gloriously on the field of battle.
I heard a knock on the door and Pita Jee walked in. He looked so much older now, as if something holding him up had been taken away. He looked at me wearing the sword, "Yes, yes, that is precisely the right thing to do for you! As for me, I desperately need some gurbani. Please recite something with your angelic voice!"
Eager for the consolation of gurbani, we sang this shabad together:
Relying on your Mercy, Dear Lord,
I have indulged in sensual pleasures.
Like a foolish child, I have made mistakes.
O Lord, You are my Father and Mother.
It is easy to speak of and talk about it,
but to follow your will is the most difficult task
(Guru Arjan Dev Ji, sggs 51)
I couldn't remember the rest of that shabad and so I started another one:
A child who innocently makes thousands of mistakes
is first scolded and then is hugged close in a fatherly embrace;
the father forgives the child's past mistakes
and teaches him the True way for the future.
(Guru Arjan Dev Ji, sggs 624)
After our keertan, Pita Jee felt better; he wearily admitted, "Even this is in the Guru's will!" He stroked his soundly sleeping son's face saying, "Perhaps I spoke too harshly to him." He bade me goodbye and urged me not to see my children before I left, lest I get mired down in attachment.
To tell the truth; thinking of my children made me uneasy with my decision. Yes, I was attached to them, but more than that I worried that they would be raised by a man whose spirit had broken. I always believed that WaheGuru gave children to parents who could help them reach their spiritual potential. I knew my husband could no longer serve as their father in the spiritual sense. But, I rationalized; the children had come to this world with their own destiny. Perhaps they would reach their potential in precisely the situation they were going to be thrust into.
But despite my attempts to encourage and comfort my misgivings, I felt a tug in the deep recess of my heart while I readied myself for the journey. Remembering the starving condition of those besieged, I began packing as much foodstuff as I could carry.
I had nearly completed my preparations when my husband woke up murmuring, "Dhan Guru Gobind Singh Jee, Dhan Guru Gobind Singh Jee".
It took him a minute to get his bearings. He jumped up. Seeing me at the door in military regalia seemed to revive the spring in his step. The spark came back into his eyes. He looked like my lover again. He came up to me and took me by the shoulders. He gently pushed my shield to one side and the sword to the other, then took me into his arms. I melted into his embrace, snuggling into his raggedy, dusty, crusty, bony frame and murmured, "I missed you".
He stepped back, still holding onto me, "I love you, and I LOVE Guru Gobind Singh jee. And guess what, he still loves me!!"
He danced a little bit confiding, "I had a vision … or a wonderful dream. I lay on the floor in an extremely cold room next to a fireplace. Several other people with children huddled close to the fire warming themselves, while looking down upon me with pity in their eyes. One child cried out in pain when his hand got burnt by the fire. His father came running in from the outside. He first harshly scolded him, but then embraced him warmly. Then the father looked down at me and it was none other than Guru Gobind Singh jee! He recited
... his father teaches him,
and scolds him so many times,
but still, he hugs him close in his embrace.
(Guru Arjan Dev Ji, sggs 624)
"Yeah, it's true I have royally screwed up. But hey who doesn't once in a while?" This was more like my husband - he always took things in stride, nothing ever got him down for too long.
I asked him, "So what is your plan?"
"Well!" he replied quite importantly, "The first thing I have to do is retrieve my sword from a certain woman who stole it from me while I was sleeping in her bed!"
He took the sword from me and put it back on, "And then I am going to eat many delicious pranthas made by that same woman and then I am going to go kick some Moghul butt! Isn't that a great plan?"
I nodded with relief and happiness! Hearing this exchange Pita Jee knocked at the door and came into the room. My husband just flung himself at Pita Jee's feet. "Please forgive me, father. I am your most ignorant child!" Pita Jee, patted his head apologetically and replied, "I spoke harsh words out of despair, son! I hope you forgive a foolish, raving man!" They hugged each other for a long time.
We got moving quickly after that. While my husband bathed then stuffed himself with quite a few potato stuffed pranthas - a few too many perhaps, if you ask me, to load into a belly that had gone so long without food. The children woke and came sleepy-eyed into the room. Not at first recognizing their Father, they soon squealed delightedly climbing into his lap. They soon became quiet awestruck by tales about the great feats their father had accomplished in the company of the world's greatest warrior. As we rearranged his packs, stuffing in even more dry food in hopes he could slip back into the Fort, we heard a knock at the door.
The Jathedaar (group leader) who had presented the decree to the Guru stuck his head through and looked around. He was a charismatic man and I felt sure that he had played a big part in arranging the 40 men's "liberation". I cautiously greeted him, not wanting him to change my husband's mind.
He asked me, "Where is Bhai Sahib?"
Had his tone been less jovial, I would have sullenly kept quiet or given him a piece of my mind. Something in his demeanor imparted to me his change of heart. I could tell we all belonged to the same "side". I told him everything.
He smiled and announced, "All of the men are going back. I just wanted to let him know that we will be leaving in an hour!" He turned to go.
I called after him, "Wait! Jatehdaar jee, what changed their minds?"
"Oh," he replied, quite eager to talk, "One thing or the other. For me personally, Mai Bhago Jee came and inspired me. Well, actually …once I arrived I felt like the lowest and filthiest most-cowardly creature to ever walk on this Earth! Mai Bhago Jee scolded me reminding me that I am a Singh worth 125,000 ordinary men. I knew her to be a stalwart Sikh, but I never realized how deeply imbued with Naam she was - each of her words pierced straight like an arrow into my heart. And her punctuation, haha, my head barely missed her rolling pin," he laughed, "She told me,
"You sit here at home and take care of the children; and we women will go in your place. We will return with food for our brothers and weaponry to fight with and give our lives if necessary."
I realized that I could make a difference by returning. I couldn't talk her out of coming along too. I pity the Moghul who crosses her path!" he laughed again.
He turned a little serious, "To tell you the truth, even on the way "home", many of us already deeply regretted leaving. In fact, as soon as I handed over that… decree to the Great Guru, we all felt quite forlorn. The further we got away from the Guru, the emptier we felt. All our hopes for better days and lives just vanished. Once we lost it, we realized what the Guru has given us with Naam is life itself! After all this time with the Guru, we took Naam for granted. We only experienced the utter desolation of a life without Naam after we gave it up. Severing our connection with Guru severed our Naam and we became broken men depleted of Naam. I am sure you noticed your husband's empty state? … We felt miserable! Royally miserable! We realized halfway home that a desolate life starving for Naam is far worse than any death from hunger. To make things worse, we had hoped to be welcomed home by our womenfolk and families…"
He fell silent, and then added, "I am extremely sorry. I don't know what happened. I guess the lack of food, sleep and the relentless onslaught eroded our morale. I just don't know … we have gone without food and sleep for extended periods of time before, but nothing like this even cropped up in our minds before. I suppose we fell for the enemy's plan to divide and conquer by offering us a way out. However we will make this work to our advantage and go back fresh and renewed and much wiser to our Gurus Service. The first thing I'm going to do is the burn up that cursed paper that I wrote up!" he paused, "If the Guru has bothered to keep it. Perhaps he gave up on us?" he asked me as if I knew the answer.
This answer I did know, "No! He has not given up on you and never will!"
And so 40 Singhs, and several women who valued certain death beside their beloved Guru over an uncertain life without him mounted their horses. Led by Mai Bhago Jee and the Jathedaar, they rode out singing shabads about their love for their Guru and his inherent forgiving nature.
At the back of my mind, I kept wondering (especially when the kids were acting up!) how it would have been if I had gone to battle. It would be such a great feeling to be doing something as noble as defending the Khalsa in it's hour of need.
I pictured myself first fighting bravely and then pleading to the Guru to remove my husband's name from that dreadful decree.
One day, after my chores were done, I sat down thinking how wonderful it would be if my husband could somehow make it back to describe what had happened after he rode away. Of course he had no chance of coming back, but the Guru is mysteriously great…
I felt my eyes drooping and I decided a nap would serve me well. I nodded off. After several minutes of dozing, I woke from my slumber, and discovered myself suspended a couple of feet above my body!
I thought this must be the dream that my husband often talked about finally happening to me. I looked at my floating self with wonder. My body seemed to have no physical substance. Instead a soft radiance gave it shape. I found my clothes most interesting. They seemed to be woven with threads of colored light. I wondered whether our village tailor could manage such a design!
I hovered idly musing for a few moments until a sudden chilling thought entered my mind. Could I be dead?!! I panicked! What about my children? They would be orphans. The instant I thought of them, I found myself looking down on them. I could see them sitting with other children for lessons. They listened drowsily, struggling to stay awake, as their teacher, while swatting absently at flies, droned on and on about some historically great, but boring, personage. I felt very confused. How had I gotten here? Had I truly died? Instantaneously my body appeared beneath me.
I looked closely and noticed it heaving up and down with each breath it took. Then I perceived a slender silver thread linking my transparent radiant body to my sleeping body. I relaxed - deciding that I still lived. I had no idea what to do though - I tried to remember if Pita Jee had ever mentioned anything like this before. Immediately I saw Pita Jee below taking his afternoon nap. He slept soundly as I watched.
Aha! Suddenly I dawned on me. I realized that I traveled by thought in this form. I remembered my husband had mentioned something like this happening to him but I had ignored him at the time. Some of the things he had told to me just had seemed too bizarre to believe. But perhaps in this place, where this form of myself existed, things were indeed peculiar!
Thoughts of my husband projected me over a field above some riders. Looking down I saw my husband riding along with others! I could not believe my luck - I had been wishing for just this.
The sun shone high. Not even a wisp of a cloud graced the sky. Though I couldn't feel it, by the looks of the horses panting tongues, it appeared to be scorching hot. It hadn't rained for weeks. With each step the ponies' hooves kicked up dust which stuck to sweat trickling down the faces of the riders. Sparse dry vegetation dotted the landscape. The Jathedaar signaled the riders to stop under a stand of scraggly parched looking trees. After they had rested for a little while, the Jathedaar and Mai Bhago Jee discussed something quietly and then I heard him say, "Khalsa jee! Time is against us! The Guru will soon be attacked by a large Moghul force. We are all veterans here and I will not lie to you about the dire situation we are in. By the time we get to the Guru, it will be too late. More than warriors, the Guru needs time. We must act now!"
He looked at Mai Bhago Jee. Her voice thundered as she spoke, "It is true that time is against us. It is true that there are 500 moghuls for each of us. But it is also true that the Guru has made each one of us capable of fighting 125,000 of them! Remember Khalsa jee, a single light destroys a roomful of darkness! Remember Khalsa jee, when we took amrit, we first laid down our heads! This head belongs to the Guru and it is time to present it to him!!"
So much Naam reverberated in her voice that the Singhs just stared at her with open-mouthed awe as though a Goddess had suddenly appeared before them! There was silence for a few moments and then a Singh came to his senses and let out a piercing Jaikara (Sikh war cry) that shook the tree leaves… "Jo Booooole Soooo Nihaaal!" The thunderous reply of "Saaaat Sri Akaaaaal" echoed through shivering tree branches across the plain leaving no doubt of the warrior's deadly intent!
Mai Bhago Jee continued, "We have come up with a plan to delay the enemy giving the Guru an opportunity to get into a position where he has a better chance to fight the enemy. Prepare yourselves for the other world!" Impressed with Mai Bhago Jee's Naam spirit, the Singhs would have done just about anything she would have asked and this sounded like a great plan!
After a short search, they found the perfect spot for an ambush, a large clear pass surrounded on either side by low hills dense with trees. They knew the enemy would have to come through this pass for the only other alternative, a route around the hills, would take at least half a day. So they hid themselves among the trees along the way and waited.
From my vintage point, I could see the enemy approaching. I could also see the Khalsa with the Guru up far ahead. They had spread white and blue sheets on the ground bordering a small lake bed. I guessed they did this to fool the enemy into thinking the Khalsa had camped there in yet another warfare trick to delay and confuse their adversaries. Driven by a prevailing thirst, the enemy rushed blindly towards the lake not realizing it had dried up in the summer heat. Not expecting that the Khalsa would camp around a dry lake, the enemy had thrown caution to the wind. They rode ferociously towards the water envisioning an easy victory, abundant water and much-needed rest.
Because of their confidence, the enemy didn't bother sending scouts out ahead to detect any possible ambushes. The summer heat seriously eroded their morale and ability to persevere. The ill-humored, battle weary men and their fatigued horses just wanted their ordeal to be at an end.
The hidden Singhs waited for a few men pass by before they made their move. At the Jathedaar's signal, a volley of arrows whistled through the trees hurtling into the oncoming forces. Stunned, the enemy froze gaping at their fallen comrades in surprise. As a second torrent came raining upon them, they turned to face it raising their shields against the onslaught, waiting for orders from the leaders. A volley of arrows whizzed in from the other side of the pass biting in to their unprotected backs, shoulders and bottoms.
The Moghuls troupes panicked scrambling chaotically trying to get out of range. Their leaders quickly converged to formulate a defense. From an entirely new direction, directly into their midst struck arrow after arrow in quick succession.
Rapidly taking the leaders down, gold-tipped arrows flew arcing from a high mound up ahead where the greatest Warrior ever to walk the Earth stood bow in hand.
The hidden Khalsa cheered enthusiastically, but silently, at this totally unexpected turn of events. The group's confident fighting spirit soared; overjoyed that the Great Guru had come back to help aid them. Only sharp orders against any jaikaras prevented any outbursts of elation. The enemy fell back rapidly fleeing in the only safe direction – behind them!
Mulling over the situation as they retreated, the Moghuls quickly realized that the main force of the Khalsa lay beyond the pass. They understood that the barrage of arrows had come from just a few in an effort to tire them out and slow them down. They sent out two scouts to get an assessment of the Khalsa's size and positions with instructions to report back as quickly as possible. The Khalsa, expert in this type of war tactics, easily intercepted the scouts.
After about an hour or so, the Moghuls realized the scouts would only be reporting to their maker, and would not be coming back. Frustrated, they needed water quickly otherwise their mission would miserably fail. An extremely impatient young Moghul captain told the chief commanding officer of the assault, an old Moghul general, "Sir, we should charge them. By my estimate they are no more than 50 men strong."
The old Moghul General, who had done his share of fighting with the Khalsa, sighed stating, "That's too many!"
The captain stared at him in disbelief, "Sir, fifty men is too many?!"
The General replied insisting, "50 of them are too many!"
The captain sneered disrespectfully and moved away. The General looked after him with distaste. The General had become more and more disillusioned with his men and with his superiors, who broke promise after promise to the Khalsa. Indeed it had been only a few days ago that the Guru had been promised a safe passage from the besieged Fort. But soon after his departure, the General had been ordered to pursue the Guru. Disgusted with such dishonorable behavior, he wished that he was somewhere else, fighting for a just cause.
The Moghuls capitulated, figuring each minute they lost, the Khalsa up ahead gained to rest and plan their defense around the lake (although in truth each minute took the Khalsa further and further from the reach of Moghul forces). They decided that they couldn't afford to give ground and would overwhelm the Khalsa by sheer brute force of numbers. The eager young captain was given the task of eliminating the small rogue band of Singhs no matter how high the cost of lives to his men.
The captain set fire to the brush along the pass to provide a smoke screen, flush out any Khalsa Scouts and force the others higher into the hills. He decided that the Singhs had to run out of arrows sooner or later. Since he had to lose men until they did, he figured he might as well sacrifice the inexperienced soldiers. He ordered two hundred young recruits to charge through the pass. He assumed the Khalsa wouldn't dare come out in the open to fight this large a force since it would be suicide for them.
The Moghuls forces charged through the pass without a single loss; cheering as they reached the other side. Thinking the smoke had given them all the protection they needed, they broke rank, riding in circles kicking up dust, whooping and hollering in relief.
The Khalsa anticipating this behavior, had mounted their horses and waited just out of sight. Almost out of arrows, they used up their remaining arrows ones taking careful aim. After knocking some sense into the foolhardy Moghuls, they charged the somber soldiers. The captain feeling very foolish for not predicting such a possibility hotly commanded a few dozen more men to join the fight. But there was yet another thing he hadn't predicted - the smoke had cleared making it a lot easier for the Singhs to use their arrows.
Seething, the enraged Captain sent yet a few dozen more men to root out the remaining Singhs from the trees. He needn't have bothered - the Singhs, their arrows spent and the cover of tree no longer of any use, came charging out on horseback.
The Singhs fought courageously but within two hours, more than half the Singhs and most of their horses had fallen.
So, as previously planned by Mai Bhago Jee, they banded into groups of five fighting hand-to-hand. They hoped to engage the enemy long enough for the Guru to get completely out harm's way. For another ninety minutes of relentless combat, the enemy's swords, arrows and spears whittled away at the valiant Khalsa. At last there remained only a small brave band of three Singhs, my husband one of them.
An arrow had struck his right shoulder and his bleeding arm hung uselessly at his side. Obviously in pain, he held his shield with his left hand. He and the other two Singhs crouched back to back; their shields blocking arrows which flew fast and furious from the Moghul hoard surrounding them.
The Moghul captain held up his hand to signal the archers to stop shooting. Quite clearly there could be no escape for the badly injured Singhs. The greedy captain's eyes squinted in anticipation of the glory he should receive could he capture the Khalsa. A feat so exceedingly rare, that it would undoubtedly catapult his career and his monetary worth to unknown heights. He called out to the Singhs, "The game is over for you! Throw away your shields. You have fought honorably, do not resist and you shall live!"
When no response or movement came from the Khalsa, a nerve-wracking silence pervaded the scene. The young Moghuls nervously shuffled their feet. This was the first time that the majority of them had seen the Khalsa up close. Deep within themselves a lot of them questioned their role in this "holy" war. The Khalsa did not look at all like the demons they had been described as. On the contrary, the Khalsa appeared noble, honorable and wholesome. The strength and the endurance of the Khalsa greatly inspired yet terrified them!
The Captain tried another tactic, "Now, now, we are all reasonable men here. I personally give you my word that I will let no harm befall you if you give up the fight. You may live to see many a fine day yet!"
Still, the three huddled Khalsa made no move to surrender. The impatient young captain worried that his precious prize might be slipping through his fingers. Perhaps the Singhs had already perished. Wondering what to do to break the stalemate, he unsheathed his sword and moved a little closer to take a look - an extremely fatal move for his career and his men!
The three surrounded Khalsa sprang up like tornadoes and several logic-defying events occurred instantaneously.
My husband threw his shield at the Captain with all his might bellowing "gurrrrrWAH!" - the motion made him lose his balance and he began to fall. The shield meanwhile hurtled spinning towards the Captain. He ducked, but it cut into his forehead with a loud "thud" snapping his neck with a sound clearly audible (as was the gulping of several young Moghul throats!) As he fell, the sword slipped out of his hand and landed in my falling husband's outstretched left hand!
In the meantime, the second Singh swung his shield towards a nearby Moghul on horseback who held an arrow in his right hand and a long spear in his left. The second Singh tripped over a fallen body and undershot his mark. The spinning shield ripped into the horse's neck, breaking it instantly. The beast stumbled, falling head-first jerking the Moghul forwards. He grabbed the horse's mane with his right hand to steady himself. When it hit the ground, the horses head bounced upwards so that the Moghul leader fell heavily onto his own arrow. It pierced his throat so swiftly that he did not even scream but crumbled silently. The spear bounced on the ground flying towards the Singh who grabbed it in midair!
The third Singh, virtually blind from blood streaming into his eyes, hurled his shield aimlessly. A Moghul saw it spinning towards him and dived onto the ground. It flew over his head. He breathed a sigh of relief rolling over to see where it went. Just as he turned to look, it struck a horse just behind him. The velocity of spinning shield had subsided somewhat. It bruised the beast but spooked it causing it to rear up in surprise. It jumped forward, its flailing hooves striking the surrounding men. The horse came down heavily stamping the ribs of fallen Moghul smashing them to bits. The Moghul's horrifying screams filled the air. He thrashed about waving his sword wildly before passing out and further terrifying the animal. Nostrils flaring, it reared up again. Loosing its balance it stumbled and fell backwards crashing heavily on its rider crushing him. His blood curdling cries further unnerved the surrounding soldiers. The blinded Singh staggered about groping with outstretched hands. Finding his very own sword thrust into a fallen Moghul, he pulled it free, and whirled it menacingly.
Everything occurred simultaneously; so swiftly and with such perfection that it even surprised the Singhs. They stood stunned for a split second not believing what had befallen them. In acting to avoid being captured alive, preferring death, life had been granted them.
The astonished young Moghuls, looked on open-mouthed, bewildered beyond action! They too could not believe what they had witnessed. Their leader had fallen. The Singhs who had been weaponless and all but finished a moment before, now ominously faced them brandishing weapons.
Dread and wonder descended on the troops silencing them. The second in command raised his sword to rally them.
They heard the "whoosh" of a gold-tipped arrow from Guru Gobind Singh jee. They watched it fly past hitting their new leader squarely in the chest. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Completely unnerved, the Moghuls screamed in terror. "These are Gods, not men," they shouted. Running blindly in panic, they stumbled, clambering over each other rushing to get away from these immortal beings!
Revitalized, the three Singhs shouted energetically. "Dhan Guru! Dhan Guru!" Maybe, they hoped fervently, they had a chance to see the Guru after all and ask personally for his forgiveness. Perhaps they might even live to fight with him another day!
Wiping the blood from his eyes with his sleeve, the nearly blind Singh shouted at the other two to run for the cover of the trees. He chased after the fleeing Moghuls, stumbling and falling over dead humans and beasts. But the young Moghuls didn't look back to check on his progress. Hearts in their mouths, they wanted only to escape the baffling madness! They cursed the day they had joined the Moghul army and cursed their leaders for pitting them against such supernatural deathless creatures!
The Moghuls not directly engaged in the fight, had at first thought when the captain stopped the arrows that the ensuing quiet meant the Khalsa had been destroyed. They had turned their attention to other matters, such as counting their dead and planning their next move. When hearing the vocal outburst of jaikara, they assumed it to be the final battle cry of the defeated Khalsa. This proved to be only partially true. For there is no such thing as a "defeated Khalsa"! How could there be when? …
WaheGuru Ji Ka Khalsa, WaheGuru Ji Ki Fateh (The Khalsa belongs to WaheGuru, Victory belongs to WaheGuru)!
Observing a hundred or so of their comrades running away from a blinded Singh, they shook their heads wondering what went in the amrit that the Guru fed his Singhs!
I could see my husband and the other Singh nearing safety as they made their way to closer towards the cover of trees. I could not believe this change of fortune. I cheered them on, shouting with all my might, "Come on! Come on! Only a few feet more!" (I realized fully well that they couldn't hear me but I couldn't keep my excitement bottled up any longer!)
The old General quickly put together a team of expert archers and almost with regret gave them the orders to shoot down the Singhs. He thought to himself, "If only I had one of those Singhs on my side, I would have won all wars!" He wondered what the Guru of such lions would be like. He decided there and then that he was done with this barbaric war in which he had to shoot down such noble warriors. He resolved at the very least to go and meet the Guru as soon as he could. He'd heard of the Guru enemies who after going to see him out of curiosity ending up swearing their allegiance to him. Secretly, he hoped that he might be one of these.
Several arrows struck each Singh before they fell just inches from the shelter of the trees. Besides the arrows piercing my husband's body, he had received numerous cuts at every conceivable place which bled profusely. I felt sad and yet a kind of peace came over me that he had fought so valiantly. He had made the enemy pay dearly. He'd bought precious time for the Khalsa with his life. The thought that my Singh had gone down fighting with such valor lifted my spirits immensely. Mortal bodies must perish sometime - this is exactly how this one had always wanted to go! One against 125,000!
As I looked on, a light-form similar to mine, but much more brilliant, rose and departed from my husband's physical body. He checked out this new dimension of himself, grinning ecstatically! Then he noticed me and winked, "Woman, do you have to follow me everywhere?!" He came close to me, our lights merging.
After embracing me with his luminous form, he ascended, disappearing from my sight. Quite suddenly he returned, still in his brilliant form, but very definitely less ecstatic. He explained he had not been able go any higher because a Guru-less person cannot enter the finer realms! We looked around and we saw all of his party of Singhs in a similar state of dejection.
Down below, the Moghuls forces, after rejoicing in their "victory", moved on towards the lalake bedgathering up their dead as they went. They left the Singh's bodies behind lying in the field. This time they proceeded with more caution, sending scouts on ahead to check for ambushes. The scouts soon came galloping back, "It's a trick! The lake is dry!" they shouted.
The remaining Moghul leaders huddled together. They decided to pull out. The Khalsa would have to be eliminated and their Guru captured or killed, another day, and by another group of Moghuls. They had run out of water; and supplies had dwindled. They had suffered humiliating losses. The soldiers' morale already dangerously low, continued to erode with each passing moment. The late hour of day meant darkness would be upon them. No sensible Moghul wanted to face the Khalsa at night! Their legendary uncanny ability to attack and seriously damage Moghul forces had been proven beyond a doubt by the afternoon events! No Moghul leader in his rightful mind wanted the responsibility spending a night even remotely close to a Khalsa encampment. So the old general gave the order to retreat.
The Singhs spirit bodies glowed brightly as they rejoiced realizing what an amazing feat they had helped to accomplish. Against all odds, because of the Singhs selfless sacrifice, the main body of Khalsa, had survived to live another day and fight another battle.
Somewhat uncertain about what would happen next my husband commented, "All is in WaheGuru's will." He used to passionately describe to me how he imagined it would be like in Sach Khand (The Realm of Truth); freedom from worldly care, continual keertan being sung in the presence of naam-imbued souls. Not impatient the least little bit; he knew that only ones who had been fully graced by a perfect Guru could go there. I understood how much he had been hoping to be one of those sikhs. So we waited... I prayed silently for intervention. Somehow I knew something great would happen...
Miraculously we saw Guru Gobind Singh jee riding into the battlefield where our fallen warriors' bodies lay. I had seen the gloriously and incomparably beautiful Guru many times in my life. But in that moment he seemed perhaps a million times more beautiful.
In addition to viewing his earthly body, we also were blessed with a glimpse of his immaculate inner-self. I believed what I saw to be his soul; although I am ignorant of such matters and unable to distinguish between a soul and light-forms such as we had become. Absolutely stunning to behold, the Guru emanated pure light white as milk. My husband had told me of seeing light within during meditation, brighter than a thousand yellow suns. But his description paled beside the True Guru's radiance.
Around the Guru's brilliance, revolved the living luminosity of millions beings who had chosen to serve the Guru. At a subtle level they circled the Guru twinkling in ecstasy and in awe. Outside the immediate radius of light orbited the glow of beings in human form. These seemed to be naami Sikhs, who after their physical deaths retained their Earthly shapes to stay and watch over the Guru. No worldly words could do justice to the luster of the light illuminating their Naam-imbued faces.
I silently bowed to the Guru and thanked him profusely for allowing me to view him in this way. Stunned, all of the Singhs bowed deeply to the Guru's luminous brilliance. I might have only imagined it but it seemed as though the Guru also gave a slight nod in our direction. I *wanted* a face like the naami sikhs surrounding the Guru. The importance of my previous existence diminished. I knew from that point on, everything would be different. My remaining life's goal would be to get immersed in the light of Naam.
Surveying the battlefield where his fallen ones lay, the Guru jumped down from his horse. He strode quickly to Mai Bhago jee and knelt by her side. Badly wounded but alive, we could hear her moaning "Dhan Guru, Dhan Guru" softly. He gave her water. She opened her eyes to look up at him with wonder. She, like most of us, had never seen him so close before. I could tell from her eyes that she found him breathtakingly beautiful.
His lips drew back in a gentle smile and he exclaimed, "Wah! Khalsa Jee! Wah! You have surpassed my expectations! Ask Guru Nanak for anything and you shall receive it!"
Mai Jee humbly joined her hands, "Sire, I wish to spend the remaining breaths that you have bestowed upon me to serve you and you only."
The Guru's put his hand on her head and blessed her, "Like the moon lights up the way for lost night-travelers, your name will guide and inspire generations to come in this dark age of Kalyug!" He instructed the Sevadaar accompanying him to tend to her wounds and needs.
He then walked to one of the Singh's body. He tenderly turned the bloodied lifeless Singh's face towards him and wiped it with his hand saying, "Wah Singh jee! Wah! You are my 5 hazari! – Honour, Tribulation, Exaltation, Accepted Servant and Dearest Companion." Immediately, the Singh's luminous floating body immensely brightened by maybe five thousand times.
One by one, the Guru took all the fallen Singh's faces in his blessed hands and graced them with gifts that our minds could not comprehend. My husband too received his blessing. Not only did he brighten up but the intensity of my luminous body also increased.
At last he walked over to a body and sat down. Gently he raised the Jathedaar's head and pillowed it on his lap. He turned the Jathedaar's face towards his and wiped it lovingly with his hand; clearing off the dried blood and debris. To all our surprise, the Jathedaar opened his eyes and looked at the Guru's face. He spoke in wonder, "My love! I have found you once more. How beautiful you look in Sach Khand!"
He lifted his hand and touched the Guru's face, stroking it gently with immense love. "Never will I leave you again; you just watch! There is no escape for you now!"
The Guru smiled and kissed the Jathedaar's hand. The Guru's kiss made the Jathedaar aware of his Earthly surroundings. He realized that he was touching the face of the One who is the Lord of this and the unseen world. Quickly he withdrew his hand, thinking he had been too forward with his brash behavior.
Looking at him with love, the Guru lifted the Jathedaar's hand back to his face and held it there pressed against him. The Guru spoke, "You have done well, my precious son! Guru Nanak is pleased with your Sikhi - ask for anything and you shall receive it!"
A tear formed in the Jathedaar's eyes. His voice quivered as he pleaded, "I ask for one thing only, my Sire. Please oh please, tear up the decree! And tell me that I am yours and that you are mine again."
The Guru removed the decree from his waist band. As I watched from above, a great lump arose in my throat. An ache crept over me, I wanted to weep profusely in sorrow and cry aloud with joy all at once. The Singhs moved beyond words, looked on in wonder. The Guru had held on to this dastardly piece of paper and kept it safe even in the battlefield where one keeps only what is most precious.
An immense longing took hold of me and then relief flooded my being as he tore it up into several pieces and threw it into the wind. The Gurus engaged the Jethadaars eyes with his compassionate gaze as the pieces lazily floated away.
The Jathedaar smiled. He tried to join his two hands to say thank you, or perhaps to say Fateh, for at that very moment, his head fell backwards. We watched his immensely brilliant soul take leave of his body.
My husband turned to me. He smiled, and then disappeared. My heart told me that he had been finally accepted into the dimension that Guru Nanak calls the Realm of Truth.
Story by Daljit Singh