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"Wake up dummy,
its almost time to go the Gurdwara,” I woke up to find my sister shaking me. (aahh man, will this nightmare never end?) I woke to a beautiful Sunday spring morning. We had planned to go to the Gurdwara that day – it would be my first outing since I had beaten up the Godfather
and his goons. I knew my arrival would be greeted with a hero’s fanfare,
but even I could not have foreseen the disastrous consequences of name and fame! “Ouch! Ouch!
That hurts! <Smooch! Smooch!> <crack!>
<crack!> Oieee!! Help!” “So Cute!!! <CRACK!> Smmmoooch!!!” (“YUCKO!”) “So brave! (“Ouch!”)
Slobber! Slobber!” (“Ouch!” ICKY!”) “So manly” (“Yes! Ouch <CRACK> OUCH!”) No, the goons didn’t attack me on the way. This, dear (and by now caring) readers, is the sound of aunties “welcoming” me to the Gurudwara. Now that I look back at it,
it had been a (nearly fatal) mistake to come to the Gurudwara on a Sunday when the aunties are out in full force. When I say full-force, I mean full-force. All the aunties
showed up: stuffed-with-samosas-auntie; packed-with-prashad-auntie; bloated-with-burfi-auntie. All of them surrounded me, kissing my face, smearing me with their lipstick and remains of their
breakfast, hugging, and otherwise mauling me until my ribs mushed together. Thank WaheGuru my nectar-filled-naami Aunty Jee saved
me. She and my sister stood with their arms around me, forming a protective circle
so no other auntie could get through with her ICKY hug and YUCKO kiss. Eventually
the aunties left me alone. I looked around for the girl with dimples. Perhaps she would finally take notice of me now that I had a hero status.
She did once before look in my direction (I am not kidding, she did really look in my direction once). But today I didn’t see her anywhere, just throngs of aunties waiting to pounce on the poor me. My sister raised her voice and spoke over the crowd, “I would like to say a few words about my brother
if I may.” (Oh brother, this is going to be mushy). “I am really proud of my brother. I
am so happy that he has recovered enough to come to the Gurdwara today.” She looked at me, “I am so grateful to WaheGuru for giving me such a loving and special brother.” Mushy or not, this choked me until tears threatened to
spill; (yes, I always am joking about my sister, but I would be completely lost without her guidance and friendship). (Note to publisher: please put the last sentence in fading ink. FYI… In
one of the earlier episodes, I had instructed the readers to destroy one of the mushy paragraphs after reading it; one young
reader decided to eat the paragraph and immediately fell sick. Dear, dear readers,
if you do decide to eat the paragraph, at least cook it first with camel or toad sauce). My sister continued, “I would like to share something that my brother wrote a long time ago for a school assignment. It’s about the first time that he visited this special place – our Gurdwara. I have kept this safe ever since for it always gives me goose bumps whenever I read it.”
The On top of the hills
in our quiet town lies a palace so majestic and beautiful it seems unreal. Hidden is the path leading up to it, by flowers
so bright and grass so green it makes you believe you’re in a dream. The road is steep and twisty but you do not take
fright for the sight takes not only your breath but your fear away when you see the view of the bay with the ships in the
harbor and the deep blue of the ocean. When you finally
arrive and see the shimmering gold dome with white roof and peach tinted walls, it looks like it’s out of a fairy tale.
As you walk in through the 10-foot tall doors you are suddenly taken by the smell of fresh sweets at the end of the corridor. To the left are stairs that go up two more stories and straight ahead is the langer
hall where you eat food fit for kings. As you go up the
stairs your ears are intrigued by sounds of God music that goes on forever and reaches your deepest down mind and seeps into
your soul. When you reach the top of stairs you survey the most beautiful sight. A 10-foot wide door opens into the gurudwara
where people are singing and praying all in the name of God. The first time I walked through these doors, I knew I was at
home. As I walked down
the marble isle, I saw what was ahead. There was most beautiful altar, rosewood carved with flowers, painted gold, and draped
with blue velvet. When I came to the altar I bowed my head to the living guru, Siri Guru Granth Sahib. I gave my donation
along with all of the offerings people brought. Dollars piled a foot high, food people have brought to be blessed, and the
armaments sharp, all adorn the altar. I turned and I saw
the sangat sitting and singing praises in Gods name. I went to sit. I noticed kids tracing designs in the carpet with smiles
on their face and old men nodding off, or in maybe deep meditation? I looked up and the sunlight is streaming out from the
skylights on bottom of the big domes that my dad put up in his spare time one summer. I remembered being on top of the roof
when the domes were put on, it was a hot sunny day the roof was reflecting baking us in the rising heat waves. Yah, the good
ole days. I bowed my head again
out of respect when the kirtan was done. I went down to eat at the langer hall where the food was being cooked. My plate was
filled with roti a flat bread, sabjee, a mouthwatering spicy vegetable, green peas and yellow potatoes we call aloo matar,
swimming in a red sauce, and fresh pure white homemade yogurt with little yellow boondi balls and green onions floating in
it. The Service ended
and it was time to go home. I will never forget this place in the quiet hills. Wherever I may go in life, that enthralling
place will always be my home”. Everyone clapped when it ended. I gave my sister
a silent “I love you” look. .Everyone
started shouting, “Speech! Speech!” I really couldn’t disappoint the people there
(and besides I had spent hours preparing for just such a speech). The speech
in my mind was: “Dear ladies
and gentlemen (and yucky aunties <under my breath>), I like to say a few words of heartfelt gratitude towards your warm
welcome. Nothing is better than receiving so many of your (yucky) hugs and (icky)
kisses. I am confident that this little incident where I beat up the goons will make our community ready to face any challenge
from such despicable people. And I say to you, if you want more beatings, Godfather! you can come and try to get me!” But when I got up, I was so nervous that I managed
to shout some of the words and whisper the rest. “Dear ladies and gentlemen
(and yucky aunties <under my breath>), I like
to say a few words of heartfelt gratitude towards your warm welcome. Nothing is better than receiving so many
of your (yucky) hugs and (icky) kisses. I am confident that this little
incident where I beat up the goons will make our community ready to face any challenge from such despicable people. And I say to you, if you want more, Godfather! you can come and try to get me!” This is what it translates to in auntie-talk: “Dear aunties, I like nothing better than your hugs and
kisses. I want more, come and get me!” I saw a mass of aunties (make that a ton of aunties)
get up and stampede towards me. <In case I don’t make it out of this
auntie-slaughter (which including the afore-mentioned aunties, also includes jammed-with-jalebi-auntie, gorged-with-gajerela-auntie and lastly
but not leastly choking-with-chum-chum-auntie), I would like to thank the Academy, my family, the editor
and the producer for ……AARRRGGHH!!!> “Ouch! Ouch!
That hurts! <Smooch! Smooch!> <crack!> <crack!> oieee!! Help!” “So Cute!!! <CRACK!> Smmmoooch!!!” (“YUCKO!”) “So brave! (“Ouch!”)
Slobber! Slobber!”
(“Ouch!” ICKY!”) “So manly” (“Ouch <CRACK> OUCH!”) “Such nice biceps!” <pat> <pat> (“True OUCH Ouch!”) “Such round cheeks!” <pinch><pinch> (“ouch! Ouch!”) “Such adorable ears” <pull> <pull>
(oiee! Oiee!
Help! Can’t breathe!!”) <crack>
<crack>” Once again, my naami Aunty Jee and my sister saved
me by shooing the aunties away. (I decided
there and then that I am over the speech-making phase of my life!) Since the Asa-dee-vaar keertan hadn’t started
yet (our Gurdwara has 2 asa-dee-vaar programs; once for the naami sangat in the early morning and the second one for the slacker
sangat), my nice-naami Aunty Jee rescued me suggesting that we all sit under a tree for discussion of Jap Ji Sahib. The Jori PhaR kid read the next 4 paurees of Jap Ji Sahib. mannay kee gat kahee na jaae ||
Jae ko kahai pichhai pachhutaae || Kaagad kalam na likhNhar || mannay
kaa beh karan veechar || Aisaa naam niranjan hoe || Jae
ko man jaanai man koe ||12|| mannay surut hovai man budh ||
mannay sagal bhavaN kee sudh || mannay muh choTaa naa khaae ||
mannay jam kai saath na jaae|| Aisaa naam niranjan hoe || Jae
ko man jaanai man koe ||13|| mannay maarag THaak na paae ||
mannay pat siao pargaT jaae || mannay mag na chalai panth || mannay
dharam saetee sanbandh || Aisaa naam niranjan hoe || Jae
ko man jaanai man koe ||14|| mannay paaveh mokh duaar || mannay
parvaarai saadhaar || mannay tarai taarae gur sikh ||
mannay Naanak bhaveh na bhikh || Aisaa naam niranjan hoe || Jae
ko man jaanai man koe ||15|| Then Aunty Jee asked me to share my dream. Since nothing gave me more pleasure than to be the
center of the spotlight, I related the dream as dramatically as possible. After the dream, Aunty Jee asked if anybody could
guess the significance of this dream as it related to the mannay paurees. The conspiracy-theory-kid cleared his throat and
began, “I am not
sure what it has to do with the paurees, but if we consider it in the larger socio-political perspective, it was an obvious
and desperate attempt by King Ackhmed to quash the inevitable coup in his Kingdom!” “!? أطفال صغا وفقا للشهود. والكارثة هي الأحدث في سلسلة حوادث والكارثة ,هي الأحدث ,في” Subtitles by Ze Subtitle Artizts: “Hi, eet’sz me, Ackhmed fvrom Zze tomb, vhat een Zze
name ov tomb fleasz eez theesz keed talkingk about?!” The kid continued, “I have received reliable and actionable information that there was
a small (but growing rapidly) insurgency in this Kingdom among the majority fisherman class and this attempt at inter-class
marriage was nothing but a cheap (and inhumane to the young fisherman) way to quash the inevitable rebellion!” “!!!!أطفال صغا وفقا للشهود والكارثة هي للشهود والكارثة هي ?!الأحدث والكارثة هي الأحدث !في سلسلة حوادث” Subtitles by Ze Subtitle Artizts: “HOW DARE HEE SZAY THEESZ?! I VILL NOT TOLEERATE HEESZ SPREADINGK OV VEECIOUSZ LIESZ ABOUT MY COUNTREE! MAY THEESZ EENFIDEL’S
EENTESTINES FVOREVEER ROASZT EEN CAMEL AFVTEER LIFVE!!!!” Subtitles of Subtitles by The Subtitle Artists: “HOW DARE HE SAY THIS?! I WILL NOT TOLERATE HIS SPREADING OF VICIOUS LIES ABOUT MY COUNTRY! MAY THIS INFIDEL’S
INTESTINES FOREVER ROAST IN CAMEL AFTERLIFE!!!!” Unfazed, my naami Aunty jee continued, “Listening to and understanding gurbani is like owning
a royal yacht. You can travel freely on the The previous four paurees discussed listening to
and understanding gurbani, which in its essence states: japahu th eaeko naamaa || avar
niraafal kaamaa || <pannaa 728> Chant the Naam of the True One. All other actions are fruitless. In the mannay paurees, the delightful Guru Nanak
writes about a seeker, who after having understood the Guru’s message, follows it passionately. This seeker makes Naam
the only priority in life. Guru Nanak says no description can do justice to such a seeker; the seeker gains divine wisdom
and escapes the cycle of birth and death; and is greatly honored in this and the next world. And now I suggest that we stop discussing about diving
into Naam and start diving into it.” Saying that, she closed her eyes. The weeping willow
tree we sat beneath swayed gently in the slight spring breeze, its wispy trailing fingers caressing us lightly. The hum of tiny insects singing to spring made me drowsy. I too closed my eyes and slowly started repeating, “Ik ong kaar Wahe Guru”. But the morning’s events had made my mind quite jumpy. I had trouble
concentrating on the words. Then I heard someone say (perhaps Aunty Jee), “Dive, pyareoo, dive into Naam!” and suddenly my mind quite literally
dove - it traveled down along my spine until reaching the navel area. There the
waves of thoughts simply ceased. I got totally immersed into “Ik ong kaar Wahe Guru”. The sound lapped at my sub-consciousness, softly washing upon the shore of my merged-mind drowning
out everything else. Without knowing quite when, I found myself sitting motionless
in the center of waxy white perfumed petals and floating on a still blue lake which stretched out before me endlessly. Incredibly
at peace, I remained in this timeless quiet place rocking gently in this vast inner Ocean. I heard the strains of a Naam-soaked gurbani shabad
come drifting towards me… har a(n)mrith bhi(n)nae loeinaa man praem ratha(n)naa raam raajae
|| <panna 448> O Lord thy immortal nectar wetted my eyes - My heart, Thy love
full-filled, O Devine Ruler The asa-dee-vaar keertan had started in the Gurdwara. I would have being happy to just sit there deep-see-diving,
sub-merged in Naam, but Aunty Jee touched my knee, stood up and indicated that I should too.
I slowly got on my crutches and headed towards the Gurdwara, still in a semi-trance…. To be continued…
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