Embarked on a spiritual journey as a Sikh, there may come a time in one's life when hopelessness and even despair overcome your existence. You feel like you are doing all the routines and following all that's been instructed. Yet, it's just not enough. You haven't suddenly been transformed into a blissful soul whose mental state is that of a resident of 'Be-gam-pura'. Well, then it's probably time you go back to Guru Ji and see what you are missing. Being a Sikh is a learning process and this poem illustrates the state of one when lost.
A union is alI I seek
In every wail and thrash of my sleep.
A heavy heart and
a bleeding will.
My soul is scarred
From attempts failed.
My brain is scrawny
From let-downs by self.
I rise at dawn....
I pray as preached...
I serve in the community kitchen...
I donate a hefty sum...
I do all....
Cursed Me!
Still I ain't changed.
I tried every holy pool,
Yogic styles are also of no use,
Starving and inflicting pain too.
Where is Dhana's 'Har'?
And Nanak's 'Nirankar'?
I wear the long flowy gown,
I adorn the relevant look.
Still I walk around with an insistent frown.
I look in the mirror.
I see an angel
Dressed for a heavenly ball.
Then I glare a little harder
And O! The ugliness!
Jealousy and Lust have me chained.
The cloth of lies is gagging my mouth.
Anger sits atop like a sticky-black crown.
Pride is the evil princess
Aggravating my petty existence.
Revolted and ever-remorseful
I turn away.
I sing the heavenly tunes
With closed eyes.
And I think....
I am almost There.
But then, after I leave the Holy House,
It's gone! Nothing left!
A pulsing ache substitutes.
And every time, I die
a little more.
-----------------------
Dear delusional one!
The bejewelled riddle of life:
Accepting the prevalence
of Truth
Contentment in One's will
Coupled with Guru's merciful grace
No miracles nor a visible trace,
Some imaginary "god" will not grace.
Beautiful be the blessed time,
when this realization strikes.
Hunt inside of thine.
For that is where
Dhana's Har and Nanak's Nirankar resides.
