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Now my
dear gentle readers, let’s shift to the future… 50 years from now to be exact… What?... ahhh,
very clever, reader 1 of 2 – if you read this episode in 51 years, then the time I am going to write about will be in
the past. Where can I find another observant reader like you?… oh, forget reader 2 of 2; he’s almost non-existent.
Look, I’ll call him a moron and he won’t even bat an eyelid. Reader 2 of 2, you are the world’s biggest moron!!! See!
Nothing. He’s just smiling and continues posting his comments on the 3752 forums he’s subscribed to (in
fact, he just posted his 453 message (of the day) onto the Fourth-Century-American-Literature-Review newsgroup. OK,
it’s true that all his messages are one-liners like “kool
i beta haf nuff luv” but still 453 is a lot! Hey!
I’ve an idea, maybe I should teen-speak: Yooo wagwan reada, yowww momma gonna take ya pc away blud! Subtitles
by Youth-speak: Heey
reeadaaa #2 Subtitles by
Dino-speak: Hey reader 2 of 2,
your mother is going to take away your computer! AAARGGHHH…
somebody…help…me…reader 2 of 2… is strangling … me… <phew> thank you reader 1 of
2; I didn’t know reader 2 of 2 could reach across the internet to my throat. Well, at least we know reader 2 of
2 does pay attention; just not to my stuff --- nehoo
das da story of ma life, nuff sed. OK, back
to the future…
A young
reporter entered the Gurdwara and asked the gatekeeper, “Where may I find the
Golden Guide?” The gatekeeper pointed
to a towering old man, adorned with golden clothes, walking slowly towards them. The Reporter watched as the Golden Guide approached the gate with a few chairs and placed
them just outside the Gurdwara gate and turned to get some more. The Gurdwara
had been moved to another location down the road and everybody was helping out. It had become somewhat of a big news-story
that one of the Gurdwara Sevadaars, “the Golden Guide”, had decided
not to leave the old Gurdwara grounds, even though the old Gurdwara property had been sold and was scheduled to be demolished
in a week’s time. The Reporter had been sent to get an interview with this rather peculiar man. Although
the Reporter had first balked at the idea, he now felt glad that he had come. He stretched his arms out wide breathing deeply
in some of the fine fall morning air and noticing a lot of happy, smiling people around him. He approached
the Golden Guide and addressed him, “Sir, I am a reporter and I’m hoping you could spare a few moments to talk to me.” The Golden
Guide grinned, showing some of his golden teeth, “Sure, I need a break
anyway. When you get to be over eighty, you really should be on a permanent break!” he chuckled in an open and warm way. The Reporter took a liking to him as he followed him to the old Weeping Willow
tree. The Golden Guide slowly sat down on one of the many chairs
there and pointed to a nearby chair indicating the Reporter should sit. “So,” he started, “What do you want to know from this old and
foolish man?” The Reporter
queried, “Sir, a lot of people are curious about your decision to not leave the
old Gurdwara premises. I guess my first question would be why?” The Golden
Guide’s face turned a little serious and he closed his eyes for a moment. “Ahh,” he said, “That,
my young man, is a good question. However I must warn you the answer is a long one and might bore you if not to death,
at least to old age!” “No,
no,” the Reporter protested politely, “I
have the whole morning reserved just for you, so please take your time.” The Golden
Guide began his story: “About seventy
years ago, a few decades before you showed up on Earth, I grew up in one of the orphanages on the outskirts of the City. I
became a famous kid because my height and physical strength. I would pick up cars, crush watermelons and stuff like that for
the crowd’s entertainment. I enjoyed the attention and picked up a bit of pocket-money that way. One day
a man came and told the Orphanage Director that he wanted to adopt me. Delighted, the Director agreed as the orphanage
aimed to find good parents for its orphans. Although this particular man did not qualify exactly as the perfect parent; on
the contrary, he was known as one of the top gangsters in the area, I had passed the cute little adoptive age years before
and this prospect seemed to be my last, if not only chance for a family. Anyhow, to cut a long story short, this man
took me to his house and I lived there till about double your age. I loved this man as a father and he spared nothing
for my needs. I used to live in one of his guest rooms behind his mansion and life was great. In my late teens,
I started working for him and quickly became one of the most trusted people in his organization, known then as the Golden
Goon”. The Reporter,
who had been suppressing yawns, suddenly looked up in surprise, “Wait a minute,
you are the Golden Goon?” “Was”, the Golden Guide corrected him. “I was the Golden Goon.” The Reporter,
quite excited he had hit upon a splash of story asked, “But .. but how
did you end up here, in a Gurdwara of all the places? My father used to tell me stories about you; scary stories I might
add.” The Golden
Goon smiled, “Yes, in times past I presented quite the terrifying
spectacle. I did a lot of things that scare even me to this day! But let me continue with the story… Well,
as I said, I loved this man, Godfather, as you have probably guessed by now, like a father. I did in fact save his life
with my very own body a few times. But my
love was not returned; he treated me like an ordinary servant and quite cruelly too. One instance that stands out in
my mind took place at a dark magician’s house when the sorcerer asked if Godfather could spare one of his “dispensable
men” and he pointed to me. That hurt me a lot. So anyway,
this magician had a plot that I played an integral part in. The plan involved coming to this very Gurdwara and sending
members of the board of Directors, or G-BOD, as they were known, to the astral world. I know, I know that sounds a little
way over the top, but take it for what it is. G-BOD
had been elected every year since the inception of the Gurdwara to run it; G-BOD
consisted of five very nice well-meaning people who always listened to the naamis here and planned everything according to
the Guru’s way. I am sorry I am boring you with all this detail but the truth is that the answer to your question
needs this background otherwise it will make no sense for you or your readers; besides I love to talk!” The Reporter
responded, “No, Sir, please don’t worry about boring me. This is very, very interesting.
I have, of course, heard the story about G-BOD several times – but this is the first time I am hearing it from one of
the insiders. Please continue and fill in as many details as possible.” Golden
Guide continued, “Well, where
was I? – ah, yes, the astral plan. I went into the Gurdwara one evening and headed straight to the G-BOD’s
office (I had inside information that they would be meeting there at that time) and I ran in there faking excited agitation,
pleading for help. “A kid has fallen sick in the Interstellar Elevator”, I told them. They rushed out and I took
them to the first floor of the elevator. After pushing them in, I hit the buttons in the sequence that Godfather’s magician
accomplice had given me and raced back out before the elevator door slammed shut. (I used to just simply follow instructions
without asking any questions. Believe me, that was the right thing to do in my business- Not only did I not want to know,
but there could be unpleasant consequences otherwise for indulging in ‘impertinence’. So I
didn’t know it at the time, but the five people shot out of their earthly bodies into their astral bodies where they
were immediately captured by the magician’s ancestors. Then the ancestors possessing the G-BOD’s physical bodies
stepped out of the elevator and took over running the Gurdwara! The magician
had determined that the best way to destroy the house of Guru Nanak was from the inside. Little
did he know, but a house built personally by WaheGuru may never be destroyed. The reason I’m boring you with all
these details is because at that very moment something happened that did not go according to plan. Well, actually two
things: First a very disturbed soul, by the name of Goodle, also slipped through the astral elevator portal hole and
gained powers which astral bodies normally do not have – more about this in minute. Secondly, as I ran out of
the Gurdwara, I heard this shabad coming from the keertan hall... swihbu inqwixAw kw qwxu ] Awie n jweI iQru sdw gur sbdI scu jwxu ] saahib nithaaniaa kaa
thaan || aae n jaaee thhir sadhaa gur sabadhee sach jaan|| The True Lord is the strength of the meek. Through the Guru's Word, the eternal Truth can be experienced. Although
I was in a great hurry to get out of the Gurdwara, I still could not resist stopping to admire the beauty of this shabad -
the shabad continued… jw kau musklu Aiq bxY
FoeI koie n dyie ] lwgU hoey
dusmnw swk iB Bij Kly ] sBo BjY Awsrw cukY sBu Asrwau ] iciq AwvY Esu pwrbRhmu lgY n qqI vwau ] jaa ko musakal ath banai
dtoee koe n dhaee || laagoo hoeae dhusamanaa saak bh bhaj khalae || sabho bhajai aasaraa chukai sabh asaraao || chith aavai
ous paarabreham lagai n thathee vaao || <70> When you are confronted with terrible hardships, and your family and friends have deserted you, and you have no other
support or hope; then if you remember the True One, the True One will protect you (like a mother protects her baby). To tell
you the truth, I had become quite unhappy with my life in those days. I had passed my 40th birthday (without a party) and
found myself suffering most likely from midlife crises. “Is this it?” I used to ask myself.
The beauty I felt when hearing this shabad was something entirely new to me. I felt a desire to explore this further. Maybe
that’s why I went back over it again and again long after I returned home. But then
real trouble started. You see, Goodle (the tortured soul I mentioned before) began bothering me in my dreams. He would wrap
himself around me and squeeeeze (like Boa Constrictors do) until I woke up gasping for air. At first I shrugged
it off as merely a nightmare. In my line of work, I had plenty of those, let me tell you. But this continued for several nights. It kept happening until I was so tired and bewildered
(lack of sleep can do wonders for you!) that I would even see Goodle in broad daylight. He tormented me at all hours
whispering terrible things in my ears. I became terrified. People started noticing my erratic behavior. As you can imagine
in my predator-based world, my paranoid behavior caused me to lose respect and credibility…” The Reporter
interrupted, “But why did Goodle start tormenting you?” The Golden
Guide fell silent for a moment; looking down at his hands he said, “I …
I was responsible for his … his death. Actually… who I am kidding?… I killed him! Don’t
look so shocked. In my line of business, I killed quite a lot of people in those days – some deserved it, but others
didn’t – Goodle didn’t. I did things I am ashamed of…” he trailed off. There
was an awkward silence for a moment, then the Golden Guide admonished sprightly, “But that is all water under bridge now.
Let me continue.
Godfather
suggested I go relax at his beach house for a few days. Goodle came along with me (of course). He became increasingly
more and more powerful. When I swam out in the waves, attempting to clear my head, Goodle nearly drowned me, all the while
assuring me he waited for me on the other side. That truly terrified me. I went back and told him
everything about Goodle to Godfather the man I thought of as my own father. While comforting me, he secretly gave the “finish”
signal to the Silver Goon (the second in line after me). I recognized it having had received this same signal several
times before myself from him when doing his dirty business. It meant “kill this person”! (of course) I pretended
not to notice, walking out calmly. However I did not go back to my room (I wasn’t ready to meet Goodle in the astral
world just yet!) but ran outside along the road. Goodle wound around me, squeezing and hissing abusive torments into my ears.
I didn’t know how to get away, for there really was nowhere safe. Exhausted after running several miles, I stumbled
in the road and lay hopeless where I fell.” The Golden
Guide paused for a moment from telling his tale. “Let me tell you, young man, hopeless despair is truly the dark night of the soul. Unless you have experienced
it yourself, it’s impossible to fully understand. I can’t impress upon you its devastation on your being.
In this state only suicide seems hopeful.” He looked intently at the Reporter, “I can tell that you have never experienced such desolation and I pray you never do. Anyway...I had lain
there for a few moments in absolute wretchedness when I heard a speeding car approaching. Utterly depleted, I had no desire
to get out of the way. I kind of had lost the will to carry on. I thought forlornly
perhaps I could fight Goodle better on the other side for I had been completely unsuccessful on this side. The car
screeched to a halt. A young man, quite jolted I might add, jumped out of the car to check on me. As he bent over me
I saw that he wore a turban and had just the beginnings of a beard. Coming from CD player in the Sikh boy’s car, I could
hear the very same shabad that I heard earlier at the Gurdwara. The strains drifted towards me. I listened intently
focusing on the sound. Everything went black. Nothing else existed for me but the shabad pouring into my ears, flooding my
heart, saturating my soul. Goodle suddenly let go of me and backed off. He remained
distantly hovering, but terrified and writhing in obvious pain. I sat up. It didn’t take me long to realize that
the shabad had loosened Goodle’s hold on me. To this
day I remember clearly the look of terror in the young boy’s face when he recognized me. He very nearly wet himself
in shock when I spoke. I asked him, “Whose Shabad is that?” He shakily replied, “Dhan Guru Nanak!”
I commanded
him, “Take me to Dhan Guru Nanak right NOW!” I got up purposefully
and strode to his car. I got in on the passenger side and turned up the volume so high it sounded like the very voice of god
himself singing. The boy drove me to the Gurdwara so fast the wheels squealed around the turns smoking. The car lurched crazily
fish-tailing around the bends in the road. I laughed aloud heartily, a little of my spirit returning. The boy stomped the
gas putting petal to the metal and I saw tread flying off the tires behind us. When
we arrived I took off one of my golden chains and gave it to the Young man as a reward for his trouble. My preferred method
of killing by strangulation was well-known and my “parting” gift rattled the young boy to no end. But he was far
too frightened to refuse. I grinned, my golden teeth gleaming and winked as I told him, “The
chain will pay for a new set of tires to replace the rubber we burned on the way!” I staggered
into the Gurdwara. I saw could see Goodle pacing helplessly around just outside the Gurdwara wall. He couldn’t
come in without losing all of his evil powers immediately should he set foot over the threshold of the gate. I saw
a bunch of people sitting under this very tree facing a lady. I didn’t know her then, but today she is my very good
Naami friend, AMrit Aunty Jee. I wasn't sure what to do except not to go outside the Gurdwara grounds! I noticed
several boxes around each with an abundant pile of scarves. So I took several of these and covering myself discreetly; then I went over and sat with the other people.
As it turned out, Amrit Aunty Aunty Jee had just begun explaining the meaning of the 20th pauree of Jap Ji Sahib. I
will briefly tell you about it too since my story would not be complete without this pauree's meaning and how it affected
me. BrIAY hQu pYru qnu
dyh ] pwxI DoqY auqrsu Kyh ] mUq plIqI kpVu hoie ] dy swbUxu leIAY Ehu Doie ] BrIAY
miq pwpw kY sMig ] Ehu DopY nwvY kY rMig ] puMnI pwpI AwKxu nwih ] kir kir krxw iliK lY jwhu ] Awpy bIij Awpy hI Kwhu ] nwnk
hukmI Awvhu jwhu ]20] bhareeai hathh pair than
dhaeh || paanee dhhothai outharas khaeh || mooth paleethee kaparr hoe || dhae saaboon leeai ouhu dhhoe || bhareeai math paapaa
kai sang || ouhu dhhopai naavai kai rang || punnee paapee aakhan naahi || kar kar karanaa likh lai jaahu || aapae beej aapae
hee khaahu || naanak hukamee aavahu jaahu || When our body and clothes get
dirty, we clean them with water or soap. But when our mind is polluted by darkness, it can only be cleansed by the Love of
the Naam. Nanak says it is the will of the True One that we reap whatever we sow. These
words struck my heart, piercing it like arrows. I looked around and saw such wholesome clean-looking people. I
felt so dirty in comparison. I can never forget the sight of Amrit Aunty Jee
that day. She radiated goodness and holiness. I felt so impure next to the folks sitting there. Realizing the filthiness
of my sin-stained condition, I nearly sank in to despair again. I sat still for a long time wondering about this “Naam”.
Could it possibly cleanse even one so deeply soiled as me? The others
gradually dispersed, leaving me to my thoughts, alone with my self-contempt. After a long time, I decided I needed to
confess everything to "Dhan Guru Nanak" and ask him about this “Naam” deal! Quite
amusingly, I walked up to this royal-looking old man who had come out from the langar hall and I asked him if he was,
get this, “Mr. DhanGuru Nanak!!" The Golden Guide chuckled at this memory. "Fortunately the old man didn't understand me
and pointed me to the keertan hall. I walked over and looked inside. I saw people bowing to yet another royal-looking
old man. He held something that looked rather like a scepter with a beard waiving it deliberately over a velvet and gold embroidered
sort of throne. I decided he must be “Dhan Guru Nanak!” So
I went and placed my head at this altar. As soon
as my forehead touched the ground in front of the Guru, I became aware of an incredible peace. It permeated me and I felt
as though I had once again found my long lost mother’s lap. I had never ever before had such sensations.” The Golden Guide’s eyes moistened up
and he barely contained himself, “You know, it’s really hard to explain this to a person with
a normal family and a normal childhood. To feel unconditionally loved is one of the greatest joys of life but I felt
that for the very first time that day. Like jumping into a fresh clean lake after traveling, thirsty, hungry and filthy, for
miles in a scorching desert; my mind and my body simply melted into this lake and refused to get up! It had been
nearly three weeks since Goodle had begun troubling me and in all this time I had been unable to sleep. I decided what better
place to sleep than my mother’s lap and off I went to lalaland - right there in the sangat! When I woke up (next
day!), I found myself in a room with Nihung Jee looking down at me...” Just
then the gatekeeper interrupted the Golden Guide, “Dear Guide Jee, langar is ready - come and bring your friend too - the poor man probably needs it after listening
to your babble!” The Golden
Guide wiped his eyes and said, “Oh
my! It’s already lunch time. I am sorry I’m got so emotional and so long-winded; it’s hard to keep my balance
in this old age. To top it all off, I haven’t even gotten to the part which I really wanted to tell you. Well, I did
warn you. That’s what you get when you are dealing with an old man, I’m afraid. My apologies...” Very
much moved and totally absorbed in the story up to this point, the Reporter replied, “Sir, please don’t apology, I have thoroughly enjoyed this. Perhaps you can continue after lunch?” The Golden
Guide nodded and they both headed towards the langar hall…. To be
continued…
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