Bibi Saloni walked on the sandy road, softly humming to herself – the afternoon sun gently playing on her face.  She could smell and hear the ocean making its free wavy sounds.  She could almost see it too – she looked towards the right, stretching up on her tippy toes to catch a glimpse.  She could see wild flowers blossoming every which way she looked.  A bee buzzed by her on its way to gather nectar.  She smiled.  There had been no bees buzzing when she had first arrived on the Island…

~~ <> vwihgurU ~~

She and her husband had retired to this Island one fall a few years ago.  They had been relatively young when they arrived - a far cry from the existing residents.  The Islanders were all senior citizens not only in age but thought.  They largely kept to themselves and their neatly manicured lawns.

 

 The Island’s “downtown” was a grocery shop and a Post Office (which also served as the Police Station, Fire Station and Funeral Home - along with one Post Master, who also served as the Policeman, Fire fighter and the Undertaker). The “uptown” was a rather old and barren “Community” hall on the deserted side of the Island, where the main topic of conversation had to do with how much fiber is needed in one’s diet (and believe me that gets dry pretty quickly).

 

Not much happened on this Island. Two hours away by a once-daily ferry from the mainland, hardly anything occurred worth getting excited about.  The local newspaper (“The Regular Reader”), even though a daily editorial, seemed only to get squeezed off the press about twice a week.  Straining his faculties, the poor journalist did try to get things moving with headlines (on exciting days) like: “Skunk murdered in broad daylight!  Another case of hit and run, detectives declare”.  Even with double spacing and artificially inflated fonts (you know like your last minute homework assignments), empty pages were common. In short, nothing happened on this Island.

 

Until, that is, Bibi Saloni showed up.  Her arrival had been quite ordinary and no one had thought twice about it.  Yes, she was several decades younger than most of the residents but they had seen them young chickens retire early before, and then retire early from early retirement.  They had expected the usual few enthusiastic newcomer get-to-know-each-other parties in the first weeks and then get-as-far-from-each-other-as-possible maneuvers in the coming months.  But Bibi Saloni had done no such thing.  What she had done instead was shock them beyond their wildest suspenders!

 

You see, Bibi jee had two passions in life - Naam and Flowers (well, three if you count her need to sleep on her husband’s shoulder; her husband, on the other hand, had only one passion – Bibi Saloni, but that’s another episode). Naam Bibi Saloni had plenty of; but flowers she missed dearly.  There had been virtually no flowers on the Island when she had arrived.  So she had decided to take things into her own hands.  She had gone to every one of the mainland’s nurseries and announced, “Give me all the wildflower seeds you have!”  Needless to say she had tons of wildflower seeds when she ferried back.  Then she had taken the seeds bags into the room where they had the prakash of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Jee and then both she and her husband had done at least thirteen hours of naam simran daily (five at amrit vela, three at night and five sometime during the day) for fifty days, sitting close by the seed bags.

 

On the fifty-first day, after ardaas to Guru Sahib for success, they had gone crazy!  They started dispersing seeds without discrimination of place, creed, religion or age.  They flung the seeds into the wind.  They dropped a bag off the cliff (and watched most of the seeds floating out to Sea).  They climbed up the tallest trees and hung open bags on the branches.  They dumped open seed bags onto passing pickup trucks. They put open bags on back of their bicycles and rode around the Island.  Everywhere there were seeds, seeds and more seeds.

Seedless to say,   this shocked the old Islanders.  Many of the Islander’s lawns had become full of flower seeds. They could not get them cleared away before the next time Bibi Jee rode by again.  The Islanders rallied together like never before – “This is preposterous,” they grumbled.  “What is this strange lady, with the strange headgear and even stranger husband doing to our Island?” they asked each other.  Their very way of life was at stake here!  One retired lawyer decided to go the legal route and filed a lawsuit with the local Judge (well, an ex-Judge actually, but no one seemed to care (or notice)).  Without much further ado, Bibi jee received a legal-looking letter summoning her to the Community hall. 

 

As planned, the hall was packed with grumpy old men and grim old women hours before Bibi Jee’s arrival time (many had come just to get away from their irregular spouses, but that’s yet another episode).   The x-Lawyer and the x-Judge chaired an open meeting and asked everyone to voice their grievances so they could be presented to the “Seedy Lady”.  Complaints were many - the main one being, “There will be more flowers on this Island!”

 

 The x-Judge, who thought a little more deeply than the other X’s, told them that that in itself is not a legal violation  So everyone thought about it and hastily typed up a list.  I am cutting and pasting the original copy here (I know a lot of you have demanded to see the artistic license that I frequently evoke with my writings; I am sad to report that the license was eaten by my pet snail. To his credit, he is trying to regurgitate it for me, but as you know, snails are slow beasts (especially mine) … how slow you ask?  So slow that while he was crossing a road it changed from a 2-lane country road to a 4-lane interstate highway…  Not satisfied, eh?  I will give it one more try and then I have to move on, I really don’t have time for this …. no, no, I’m not saying I don’t have time for you … now please stop crying … I *do* like you … did I say “like”? I meant love.  Yes, I do love you … ok, ok, please don’t click on another link; ok, just forget I said anything, here goes:  my pet snail is so slow that he has to speed up to stop!  … I see a smile … <phew – it’s getting harder and harder to keep readers on my page>).

 

Herez the list (with my hand-written notes):

1. My poodle ate the seeds and now (even) he’s irregular.
2. More flowers, more bees, more bee stings - bad for us delicate la-dies and la-das.
3. More flowers, more birds – bird droppings everywhere (jealous, are we?)
4. Wild stuff in our uniform (boring) lives? – A big NO-NO.
5. “Well, isn’t she special; if she doesn’t like it here, why doesn’t she just leave?  Who does she think she is, a princess?” (well, as a matter of fact, she is Rajaan Raj, Shahan Shah Guru Gobind Singh jee’s princess, but we won’t tell ‘em that); 
6. All change is bad.

That last one electrified them all and they started shouting “All change is bad!” with all their strength.  The x-Judge calmed them down somewhat while they waited for Bibi jee.  None of them had seen her up-close and were all wondering what she looked like.  They had heard rumors that she had the number 13 (really an ik-ong-kaar, but mum’s the word) on her headgear and breathed strangely (really that’s swas-swas WaheGuru WaheGuru but dad’s the Word).

 

She arrived exactly on time.  She parked her bike outside, changed the seeds bag and proceeded to the hall.  She came into the hall, looked around at the now-silent and slightly-flushed (no pun intended) Islanders and flashed a huge smile and said, “Hello!! I guess I’m at the right place!” 

 

Ravishingly beautiful, her eyes lit-up with something (Naam, of course) which charmed the residents so that they completely forgot all their previous anger and gripes.  Nay, they forget themselves. Instead they felt a slight cool breeze in their hearts.  They remembered a time when they too were young and full of hope for the future.  They remembered a time when they felt they could change the world and had concrete plans to do just that.  They remembered the times they had hitchhiked, played hooky, slept on the beach, gone swimming at midnight, hiked up dangerous-looking mountains, discussed philosophy passionately deep into the dawn, cuddled up with lovers by the fireside, written poetry, drawn with water colors…

They looked down at their crusty old hands and felt remorse at becoming what they had become – withered old souls.  And they silently vowed to change that and to do so immediately.  Such was the effect she had on them; they all wanted to be like the strange lady– so fine, so elegant, so exotic and so very young.

 

The murmuring faded into silence. Bibi jee held a tray in her right hand loaded with bite sized balls of rather delicious and wholesome looking round cakes, “Here, everyone I brought some naam ladoos; made from my sakhee, I mean my special friend’s special recipe.” 

 

The x-Judge was closest to her and he half-dreamily extended two fingers picked up and popped one of the balls into his mouth.  He closed his eyes and murmured something unintelligible but it sounded like “mmmmmm sweet mmmmmaammmmmaa!” (It was naam at first bite!) The others, at first, politely came up, held out their hands taking a tentative nibble, then quite animatedly took all the remaining balls <pop> <pop> <pop>.  Before long, the naam ladoos had been completely devoured and the residents were trippin’!!

 

The x-Judge was the first one to break the silence (well, if you don’t count the sounds of mmmmmmm and hmmmmmm and ooooohhhhh).  He started, “I … we…” then trailed off thinking how shallow and useless his life had been so far.  He put his hand on Bibi Jee’s shoulder and – started sobbing!!  Right there – crying in front of everybody, a grown man who had a distinguished career began blubbering something like “…I want a fresh start…”

 

Suddenly everybody crowded up and began hugging Bibi Jee, openly expressing their desire to have whatever she had that made her what she had become.  Bibi Jee herself was quite taken by this and had to hold back her tears.  They asked repeatedly how she radiated such youth; she kept repeatedly saying “Gur Prashad”.  They asked about her Guru, she started singing (they sang along understanding each word even though they had never read gurbani before),

 

Din DMin hmwry Bwg Gir AwieAw ipru myrw ] sohy bMk duAwr sglw bnu hrw ] hr hrw suAwmI suKh gwmI And mMgl rsu Gxw ] nvl nvqn nwhu bwlw kvn rsnw gun Bxw ] myrI syj sohI dyiK mohI sgl shsw duKu hrw ] nwnku pieAMpY myrI Aws pUrI imly suAwmI AprMprw ]

dhhan dhhann hamaarae bhaag ghar aaeiaa pir maeraa || sohae bank dhuaar sagalaa ban haraa || har haraa suaamee sukheh gaamee anadh mangal ras ghanaa || naval navathan naahu baalaa kavan rasanaa gun bhanaa || maeree saej sohee dhaekh mohee sagal sehasaa dhukh haraa || naanak paeianpai maeree aas pooree milae suaamee aparanparaa || <847>

Blessed, blessed is my destiny; my Lord, (the Formless One) has come into my home.  The gates of my mansion are beautiful, and all my gardens are green and alive (with love).  The ever-green Lord has rejuvenated me with great joy, bliss and love.  My Lord is eternally youthful; what tongue can I use to chant the Lord’s Glorious Praises?  My bed is beautiful; I am awe-struck by gazing at the Lord; all my doubts and pains are dispelled.  Prays Nanak, my hopes are fulfilled; my Lord is unlimited.

 

After a couple hours of totally open communication (usually called therapy in “civilized” societies), everyone left for home – quite profoundly changed.  Since that eventful meeting, life on the Island never was quite the same– it would be folly to say that the Islanders suddenly became naamis (that only happens in fantasies (and other episodes of Jedi Nights)), but people did become spiritually inclined – and interested in life and each other again.  Bibi Jee’s house soon became a common meeting place.  Bibi Jee’s husband was an x-computer guy – who became an instant hero after he fixed a few super-slow computers (actually all he did was re-frag and re-boot, but we won’t tell ‘em). (No, we are not going down the how-slow-were-their-computers path this time – its too emotionally draining).

 

Then came spring and the seeds sprouted!  And did they blossom!  Flowers could be seen everywhere you looked as though an artist had gone wild on an empty canvas and set everything ablaze with color. Yes, there were more bees and more bees-eating-birds and more bird-eating-mammals; but there also were exotic-looking plants and a lush fragrance that mingled with the Sea breeze setting everyone’s heart aflutter.  There were sounds of birds chirping away and even the waves crashing against the beach seemed louder and livelier!  The Island quickly caught the attention of an art magazine and consequently a steady constant stream of young vibrant artists looking for that perfect picture ferried in.  In short, life re-booted on the Island!

Bibi Jee started a weekly evening naam session which swiftly grew in size and intensity.  She then persuaded few folks to hold a weekly amrit vela naam session – steadily that number grew until it equaled the evening naam session.  Everyone tried naam – many stuck to it while others thought about sticking to it.  Bibi Jee also started up a Jap Ji Sahib Discussion group and it was this particular meeting session she was walking towards that fine afternoon….