Waheguru ji ka khalsa
Waheguru ji ki fatehThe following is part of a presentation I recently wrote for the Khalsa Council. I have taken some literary liberties by presenting this in first- person format. This requires some extrapolation of feelings and thoughts with very little research data available - especially with Guru Sahib's younger sons. I had to rely on my heart and my meditation. And, of course, who really knows what was in the mind of these incredible and brilliant incarnations! But, by taking the chance and putting the piece in first person - it creates a hologram effect and Baba Ajit Singh Maharaj seems to materialize before us.
I hope you understand the spirit in which it was done, and I apologize in advance for my errors and my arrogance.
Shanti Kaur
I, Baba Zorawar Singh, was born in November 1696. I was three years old and resting in my nanny's arms when my father stood before the sangat and called for the heads of five brave Sikhs on that great Baisakhi in 1699. As I grew, I lived in a world that was split between the soft reality of my mother, and the exciting action of my father and brothers. While Ajit Singh and Jujhar Singh practiced their swordplay, Guru Gobind Singh held me in his lap and told me stories of the Sikhs bravery. I grew up as a serious young man, always aware of the powerful energy that swirled around me.
During the evacuation of Anandpur, total chaos and confusion happened when the mughals ambushed the Sikhs. My younger brother and I were traveling with our Grandmother - Mata Gurjari, in a palanquin. I was only nine years old, and my mother said I was too young to ride a horse at night. In the fury of battle, my grandmother and we were separated from the sangat. A Brahmin cook from the Guru's kitchen saw us alone, and with sweet words convinced my grandmother to come to his family's home which was near by. Cold, wet and alone, Mata Gurjari gratefully took us and went with the man to his house. I did not feel safe with the Brahmin, and felt that I needed to protect my brother and grandmother as my father would. I tried hard to stay awake. But after the trauma and anxiety of the battle, I drifted to sleep in the warmth of the house.
While we slept, the vile Brahmin bitterly betrayed us. He stole my grandmother's money, and informed the local authorities that the Guru's two sons were hiding in his house. At dawn, a loud banging came on the door, and the soldiers of the evil governor Wazir Khan stood prepared to escort us to Sarhind. It had been ordered that we be imprisoned in a tower. As we traveled through the city, the people thronged to see us pass offering words of encouragement. They shouted curses and abuses at the Brahmin. I was not afraid and I walked proudly, gathering strength from the voices of the sangat.
In Sarhind, the tower where they imprisoned us was cold and drafty. It was a barren cell with no cots or mats - just a pile of straw for comfort. Mata Gurjari was strong knowing that the love of Guru was with us, but still she was wrung with anxiety for our safety. Wazir Khan ordered the children to be brought before him. When Grandmother heard this, it stung her like a sharp arrow and she cried aloud. In vain she tried to conceal us in the many folds of her chola. But when the soldiers came to get us, I wanted to show no weakness. I gently laid her hand aside saying: "How can we escape from our enemies? Let us go meet the governor with victory!" Saying this, I took my little brother, Fateh Singh, by the hand and led the way out of the cell.
When Wazir Khan saw us, even he was struck with the beauty and grace of the house of the 10th Guru. His first thought was to marry us into a Muslim family and in this way shame and subdue the Sikhs. To try and break our spirit, he said; "Your father and brothers are all dead, killed by my brave soldiers. Your only hope to survive is to bow to me now and accept Islam. Perhaps then I will spare your life."
When I first heard this, it was like a punch in the face. I believed my brave brothers and holy father to be completely indestructible, and to think that they were dead was beyond what I had ever considered. I closed my eyes for just a few seconds, and the brilliant light of my father bathed my mind. In an instant, I knew the truth and was filled with the courage that only the truth can bring.
"No," I replied with a strong voice that did not waiver, "My father, the great Guru Gobind Singh is not dead. The Akal Purkh protects him. How can you say that it is possible to tear down heaven itself? How can you say that the wind can blow aside the mountain? If the Guru wanted to, he could destroy every trace of you from the earth. But he has taught us that our first duty is to obey the will of God and the laws of heaven. When we have already given our heads to such a Guru, why should we bow to a sinner like you?"
The force of our faith struck Wazir Khan and fear pricked his heart. If even the very young sons of the 10th Guru have this courage, he thought, how would we ever succeed against their armies? With brutish and bullying manners, he ordered that we be executed by placing us in chains and making us to stand in a wall that was being constructed in the courtyard. Brick by brick the masons raised the wall around us until it reached to our necks. I kept looking to Fateh Singh to make sure he was all right, but his strength was as firm as mine. I was so proud to stand there with him and let the whole world know that we were the sons of Guru Gobind Singh.
Finally, the executioner swung his thick sword, and we were beheaded. Long before I drew my last breath, the blissful light of my father, Guru Gobind Singh, enclosed me in comfort and peace. He was right there with me.