Nanak set out on his journeys. His travels started in 1507 and lasted for nearly twenty-three years. He travelled to many far-off places in India, Lanka, Baghdad, Nepal, and Tibet. He put on a dress which was not the dress of the Hindu sadhus or the Muslim faqirs, but a combination of both. People would stop him and ask:
‘Are you a Hindu or a Musalman?’ people would ask him. And he would reply with a smile, ‘There is no Hindu, there is no Musalman.’
On all his journeys he was accompanied by Mardana, the Muslim bard who played the rabab, a string instrument. During his travels he met many kinds of people – the rich and the poor, simple village-folk and learned scholars, and saints. He passed through small villages and big towns and cities. He visited many famous temples and mosques and places of pilgrimage. Everywhere he went, people found peace in his words of love and in his gentle, smiling face. In the evening he sang hymns in praise of God and people came to listen to his songs and to his teachings and learnt the lesson of love and kindness.
Nanak’s travels can be divided into four major journeys. The first journey was towards the East. He is believed to have begun this journey by crossing the Beas and going first to what is now Amritsar. It was the month of Sawan (monsoon), the month when the sky is covered with dark clouds and the winds that blow are cool and fresh. Nanak came upon a beautiful spot. There was a large water-body, and all around it were thick groves of trees. Pleased by the beauty of the place, he stopped to rest under a tree. This was the spot at which Guru Arjan Dev, the fifth Guru, later built the Harmandir Sahib – considered the holiest Sikh temple. In the compound of the Golden Temple, the tree under which Nanak rested for some time still stands old and shrivelled, but very much alive.
From Amritsar, Nanak went to Lahore and then returned to Talwandi. He spent a few days with his parents, Rai Bular, and his old friends. Mardana too was happy to be with his family. Nanak was the centre of attention because he told many wonderful stories about life in the town of Sultanpur.
‘How are my grandsons?’ Tripta asked her son as she sat beside him while he ate his food.
‘They are fine,’ Nanak said. ‘Sri Chand is with Nanki in Sultanpur and Lakhmidas (also known as Lakhmi Chand) is with Sulakhni in Batala,’ he added.
‘Do you not miss them?’ Tripta asked again.
‘I travel at my soul’s command,’ Nanak replied, looking straight into her eyes. ‘I cannot let earthly bonds tie down my feet,’ he said. His mother watched him as he ate, her heart full of love; and as she watched, tears sprang. She knew that her son was a saint and already people had begun to call him Guru. But she could not help feeling a deep sadness at the thought that he had to leave his wife and sons while he followed the dictates of his spirit. Kalyan Chand too came, at last, to be reconciled to the path his son had chosen to follow. He listened with pride when Nanak spoke to the people who came to see him. There was great wisdom in the answers he gave to their questions. And in the evenings, when Nanak sang his hymns in praise of God, Kalyan Chand too felt close to God. At last he knew what Pundit Hardyal had meant when he had predicted that Nanak would be a great man.
Nanak spent time with Rai Bular, the Bhatti, who had sensed his greatness long before anyone else, and was happy to be with him again.
Soon it was time for Nanak to resume his journey. His parents knew that it was God’s will that he must go, and so they made no effort to hold him back.
Nanak and Mardana left Talwandi and reached the town of Saidpur, and Nanak stopped at the door of Lalo’s house. Lalo was a carpenter and was, at that time, working in his courtyard. He saw a shadow fall across his doorstep and looking up, saw Nanak. He came forward to greet him. He saw the glow on Nanak’s face and folding his hands, bowed his head in greeting. Nanak reached out and took Lalo’s hands in his own. The carpenter’s hands were hard and calloused and Nanak knew that here was a man who earned his living by the sweat of his brow and the labour of his hands.
‘I am a tired traveller. Will you give me a place to rest?’ Nanak asked.
‘All that I have is yours. You have done me great honour by coming to this humble abode. But I belong to the lowest of the low-castes and you will be defiled by staying in my house,’ Lalo said.
‘There is no low-caste, there is no high-caste,’ Nanak replied and stepped into Lalo’s house.
Malik Bhago was the most important official in Saidpur. He worked as the revenues collector for Nawab Daulat Khan. It was his son’s birthday, and he had arranged a great feast for all the sadhus and faqirs, and for all high-caste Hindus. Through this feast he thought he would earn merit in the eyes of God. There were many who came to the feast, and Bhago was sure that God would reward him for having fed so many worthy people.
‘Did all the holy people of the town come to my feast?’ he asked one of his servants after the feast was over.
‘All, your honour, except one,’ the servant replied.
‘Who is that?’ Bhago asked, surprised.
‘It is the strange faqir from Sultanpur, who goes by the name of Nanak.’
‘And why did he not come?’
‘It seems sir, that he prefers the simple food in Lalo’s house.’
‘Lalo, that low-caste carpenter? Go and summon him to my presence.’ Bhago was truly angry now.
When Nanak arrived, Bhago spoke to him in anger, ‘What is so special about the food of the low-caste Lalo that you would rather eat that simple fare than all the rich dishes served at my feast?’
‘There is no low-caste and no high-caste. Our caste, our place in this world, is determined by our actions alone,’ said Nanak. He then went on to prove to Bhago and all the assembled people that Lalo’s bread was special. ‘Lalo works hard with his own hands and earns very little. Yet he was ready to share his bread with others, even though he might himself go hungry. Bhago earns his money by exploiting the poor. When he shares it with others, it is with a motive: he thinks he would earn favour with God. Lalo’s bread was full of the milk of human kindness, whereas Bhago’s full of the blood of the poor,’ said Nanak.
Nanak stayed for many days in Saidpur, and made many disciples, among them Malik Bhago. When Nanak left Saidpur, Lalo took upon himself the task of propagating Nanak’s message of love, brotherhood, and equality.
Nanak and Mardana next crossed Punjab through the famous town of Harappa and came to the town of Tulamba (now in Pakistan’s Punjab province). Near the main gate of the town was a rest house run by a man named Sheikh Sajjan, who pretended to be a holy man. He dressed in white and spent a lot of time in prayer. He wore a tilak on his forehead, which was the mark of Hindus and a rosary around his neck. He had built a mosque and a temple near his rest house. As a result, both Hindu and Muslim travellers came to his rest house and he looked after all their needs. But a fact that was unknown to the people was that whenever a particularly rich traveller came to his inn, Sheikh Sajjan would kill him in his sleep and steal all his money and his belongings.
Nanak and Mardana too came to Sajjan’s rest house. Nanak’s face had a glow, but Sajjan thought the glow came from eating rich food and living a life of indolence. So he concluded that Nanak must be a very rich man. He fed Nanak and Mardana well and gave them special attention. He expected Nanak to go to sleep after dinner and thus provide him with the opportunity of carrying out his malicious intentions. But instead of going to sleep, Nanak decided to conduct kirtan and he invited Sajjan to attend. Sajjan had no option but to accept the invitation. The music touched his heart and the words made him see his own evil ways. He fell at Nanak’s feet, told him of his evil deeds and begged to be forgiven. He gave away everything he had, and spent the rest of his life in the service of others.
Nanak travelled next to Kurukshetra and then to Panipat where he spent a few days in discussing religious matters with the Sheikh of Shah Sharaf. He then went on to Delhi and from there, travelled to Haridwar. Here he saw many people, who first bathed in the river, then stood and prayed and offered water to the rising sun by throwing it towards the east.
‘Why are you throwing the water towards the sun, my friend?’ he asked a young man who stood in the river close to him. ‘I am offering this to the spirits of my ancestors. It is to quench their thirst,’ the young man replied.
Nanak stepped into the river, bathed, and then turning his back to the sun, began to offer water towards the west. All the people who were standing on the river bank were amazed to see this.
‘What are you doing, strange man?’ they said. ‘Have you gone mad? Why are you throwing water in that direction?’
‘Why,’ Nanak answered, smiling softly, ‘My land is near Lahore; and Lahore, as you know, is towards the west. There has been a drought there, the land is dry and my crops will be ruined. So I am irrigating my land.’
They all laughed at Nanak and Nanak pretended to be angry.
‘Why are you laughing at me?’ he asked.
‘You are truly mad,’ they said between peals of laughter. ‘How can the water you offer here, reach as far a place as Lahore?’ they asked.
‘How far is the land where your ancestors live?’ Nanak asked.
‘It is forty-nine and a half crore kos away,’ a learned pundit replied.
‘Well, if the water can reach a spot which is forty-nine and a half crore kos away, it can surely reach my farm, which is only 250 kos away from here,’ Nanak said.
From Haridwar, Nanak and Mardana travelled eastward, through the lower ranges of the Himalayas. They passed through Almora in Himachal Pradesh, where people used to offer human sacrifice to their goddess at that time. Nanak knew that if he was to make the people give up this custom, he would have to spend some time with them, and teach them the lesson of love for each other. In the beginning the main priest at the goddess’ temple was suspicious of him. He thought that Nanak would try to undermine his position among the people. But Nanak did not talk about religion at all. He went quietly among the people, bringing help and comfort wherever he could. Gradually, the people began to think kindly of the stranger who had come to live amongst them.
The days slipped past and soon it was the day for the next sacrifice. A young seventeen-year-old boy was being offered as sacrifice. He was bathed, and dressed in new clothes, and made to kneel before the goddess; the priest said all the special prayers that needed to be said on the occasion. The large crowd of people waiting for the sacrifice felt that the goddess would be pleased with it, and would bless them with prosperity, happiness, and a bounteous harvest.
At the last minute, Nanak stepped forward from the crowd. ‘Stop,’ he said to the priest. The crowd turned to look at Nanak. They respected him and they were sure that he would not have stopped the ceremony without adequate reason.
‘Why do you offer this sacrifice?’ he asked the priest.
‘To please the goddess,’ the priest replied.
‘Your goddess is your mother: She is kind and gentle and you are all her sons and daughters. Do you think the pain and suffering that is caused by human sacrifice would please her? Do you think she would be happy to see one of her children being killed? Your religion teaches you to love one another like brothers – to treat your neighbour’s pain and suffering as your own. Your religion says that there can be no happiness, no success if it is based on someone else’s tears. Why then should you take part in causing such pain and suffering to another? Think of what the boy’s mother would go through if he were to die. You are all like her, you would suffer with her,’ Nanak said. The priest was won over by Nanak’s arguments and actively supported Nanak’s campaign against human sacrifice, and the people soon abandoned this horrific practice.
Nanak stayed for some time in Gorakhmata near Pilibhit (now in UP), the seat of the Nath Yogis. There, many people became his followers, and in later years, the place was renamed Nanakmata.
From the hills, Nanak and Mardana came down to the Gangetic plain, and travelled along the river: They passed through Ayodhya – the birthplace of Sri Ram; then through Allahabad where the Ganga and Jamuna meet, and came finally to Benaras. Here, they were the guests of a very learned pundit by the name of Chatur Das. Both Nanak and the pundit would hold long discussions on religious and spiritual matters; and both left wiser and richer with these exchange of thoughts. Nanak and Mardana now travelled on to Bodh Gaya, where Lord Buddha had attained enlightenment. It had by then become less important as a centre of Buddhist learning and had become more a place of pilgrimage.
From Gaya the travellers went on to Patna, and then to Bengal, moving forward to Assam. There is to this day, a temple at Dhubri on the Brahmputra River in Assam, which marks Nanak’s visit there. From Dhubri, Nanak and Mardana travelled to Guwahati, Manipur, Imphal and Dhaka and down to the Bay of Bengal and then to Puri. Here the people did not like Nanak at first, but as they listened to his hymns and his teachings, they realized that he was a true Guru. He taught the people that God did not live in the stone and wooden statues they worshipped, but in their hearts. At Puri, Nanak also met the famous Bhakti saint, Chaitanya Mahaprabhu.
It was at Puri that Guru Nanak composed and sang his famous hymn, aarti, in Raag Dhanashree in 1510.
Mardana had by now become homesick and wanted to return to his family and friends. To spare him any more pain, Nanak started on their homeward journey. As they travelled through Central India, they came across a man-eating tribe. Nanak stayed for some time with this tribe and weaned it away from cannibalism.
They then travelled towards the south; through the thick forests and across the desert of Rajasthan and came to the river Sutlej. They crossed the river at Pakpattan (now in Pakistan), and spent some time here meeting with Sheikh Ibrahim – the descendant of the famous Sufi saint, Sheikh Farid.
They came at last to Talwandi. Tripta and Kalyan were overcome with joy to see their son again after twelve years.
Then, after some days, Nanak visited Sultanpur. He was greeted warmly by Nawab Daulat Khan, Nanki, and Jairam, and his son Sri Chand. Jairam sent a message to Batala and soon Sulakhni and Lakhmidas returned to Sultanpur, and for a little while the husband and wife, and the two sons were together again.
For nearly six years (from 1511-1517) Guru Nanak was content to be among his loved ones. Then the restlessness came upon him again, and saying goodbye to his family and friends, he set out on his second journey. According to Professor Sahib Singh, a prominent Sikh scholar and an authority on Sikh history and religion, Guru Nanak commenced his next journey on September 1517.
In the first leg of his journey, the Guru crossed the Sutlej, at what is now Goindwal (in Tarn Taran district of Punjab), and came to Bhatinda. He stayed there for a short time and then when on to Sirsa, where he spent a few months with some Sufi saints before going south to Bikaner. He also spent time with the monks at a Jain monastery there. He next stopped at Ajmer and visited the shrine of Khawaja Moin-ud-Din Chisti, and reached Pushkar at the time of the annual fair that is still held there. He passed through many towns and reached Rameshwaram, where he crossed the sea to Sangaldeep, Sri Lanka. (According to some biographers, the Guru’s visit to Lanka formed part of his first Udasi.*)
Sri Lanka was then under the rule of a king named Shivnath. One of Guru Nanak’s merchant disciples, possibly Mansukh or Bhagirath, had made many trips to Shivnath’s capital city and the king had been impressed by the disciple’s simple religion, and wished to meet his Guru. At last the king’s wish was granted and Guru Nanak and his followers set up camp in a grove outside the capital. The King came and greeted the Guru, and was accepted as a disciple along with the queen.
Guru Nanak crossed the Palk Strait (the strait linking Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka’s Mannar district) and travelled along the western coast passing through Tanjore, Trichinopoly (it covered the present-day districts of Tiruchirappalli, Karur, Ariyalur, and Perambalur), and Palghat. The Guru passed through many important towns like Nasik, Baroda, Somnath, Madhopur, Junagarh, Porbander, Dwarka, and Bhuj. He stayed for sometime at Onkaar on the banks of the Narmada. Guru Nanak went finally to Pakpattan and after spending some time with his old friend Sheikh Ibrahim, he came back to Talwandi.
Because of Nanak’s teachings which had spread all over Punjab, Talwandi had become famous. Now, when Nanak returned and Kalyan Chand saw the large number of followers that his son had garnered, he knew he had been wrong to doubt the path Nanak had chosen as a boy. Tripta was very happy to see her son, but got little time with him because she was kept busy looking after his followers. The happiness of Nanak’s return to Talwandi was shadowed by the fact that his mentor, Rai Bular, was very ill. Every day the Guru spent many hours with him, comforting him. Rai Bular wished to hear his hymns and thus Nanak sang for him. A few days later, Rai Bular drifted off to sleep while Nanak sang his favourite hymn for him. It was a sleep from which he never woke up.
After a few days Nanak returned to Sultanpur after five years amidst great rejoicing.
This time too, Nanak’s stay in Sultanpur was a brief one. When he expressed his desire to set out on his third journey, Nawab Daulat Khan, his old employer, pleaded with him to stay on.
‘Stay here with us, Nanak. Be done with your travelling. We need you here. Stay here and bring the true message to my people.’
‘I cannot stay till my soul tells me to. I hear an inner voice telling me to go and I must obey it,’ said Nanak, and set out on his third journey.
His first stop was at Pakhoke (in Amritsar), where his wife, Sulakhni, and their sons were staying, and he spent some time with them. He was attracted to a spot across the river Ravi and wanted to set up a dera there. Ajit Randhawa of Pakhoke, who had become a disciple of Nanak, gave the Guru the land, and a village was set up there, which he named Kartarpur. Word spread that the Guru had set up a permanent home there and people flocked to Kartarpur to meet him. The village prospered and more and more people came to live there. The Guru’s parents and family also came to live in Kartarpur, as did Mardana’s family.
After staying for a few months at Kartarpur, the Guru set out on his third journey, accompanied by Mardana. Nanak travelled to Sialkot, then on to Jammu and then to Kashmir. He met many pilgrims on their way to the cave temple of Amarnath. One of these pilgrims was a very learned Brahmin by the name of Brahm Das, who was greatly respected for his learning. He was not only a devoted Brahmin, but always sought to learn more about other religions as well. He noted Guru Nanak’s strange dress and began to question him. Guru Nanak’s dress while on his Udasis had features of both the Muslim faqir and the Hindu sadhu. This dress appeared strange, but it was Guru Nanak’s way of emphasizing the fact that he was neither a Muslim nor a Hindu. They spent some days together in discussions on the essence of life and religion, and Nanak’s views greatly impressed Brahm Das. There is now a Gurdwara at Mattan (in Jammu and Kashmir), which stands at the spot where the Guru and Brahm Das had met.
From Srinagar, Nanak went on to Ladakh, where there is a Gurdwara called Patthar Sahib, which has been built to commemorate Nanak’s visit to the place. From here he followed the upward course of the river Indus into Tibet, where he stayed at a monastery for a few days. The head Lama was so pleased with his teachings that he accompanied him to Mansarovar, the holy lake. Nanak then went on to Nepal and Sikkim. From Sikkim he came back, following, as closely as possible, the route that he had taken on his way out. Nanak thus came back to Sultanpur in 1518.
His brief stay in Sultanpur was a sad one, because during this time, both his sister Nanki, and his brother-in-law, Jairam, passed away. The couple had no children, and it was Nanak who performed their last rites. It was also the last time that he met Nawab Daulat Khan.
Guru Nanak stayed for a few days in Kartarpur. People asked for his advice and listened to his teachings and his hymns. They were soothed by the Guru’s words, and they returned to lead their lives as per the Guru’s directions. But soon his soul prompted him to move again, and hence he set out on his fourth and last journey.
This time the Guru travelled north to Multan (now in Pakistan), then to Sukhur (now in Sindh province of Pakistan). Then he travelled south along the river Indus till he came to Thatta (also in Pakistan). From here he went west to Hinglaj (an important Hindu pilgrimage place in Balochistan, Pakistan). Here he met a group of pilgrims on their way to Mecca. He joined them and crossed the Arabian Sea with them. Nanak was dressed in blue robes, a colour that is sacred to the Muslims and carried everything that a Muslim pilgrim on his way to Mecca carries: a staff, a prayer mat, the holy book Quran, and a spouted pot for performing his ablutions. The boat brought them to Jeddah in Saudi Arabia, and the pilgrims travelled with a caravan towards Mecca. Nanak sat outside his tent, talking to all the men who would listen to him. Some were suspicious of him, and thought he was trying to turn them away from their own religion and convert them to a new religion. Others understood what he was saying and respected him, and slowly he came to be looked upon as a great teacher by the pilgrims.
When they reached the outskirts of Mecca, Nanak stopped for the night at a mosque. He was very tired from his travels and after saying his prayers, he went to sleep. He did not know that his feet were pointing towards the Kaaba, the holiest shrine of the Muslims. Because he was tired and weary, he slept till late in the morning. When it was time for the morning prayers, one of the attendants of the mosque discovered the traveller fast asleep, with his feet pointing towards the Kaaba. The attendant was so upset by what he considered to be an insult to God, that he went quickly up the steps and brought Qazi Rukn-ud-din, to witness this act of sacrilege for himself. The qazi was very angry too. He struck Nanak with his staff and shook him awake.
‘Wake up. Look at the terrible sin you have committed. You have pointed your feet towards the place where God resides, God will be very angry with you. You must rub your face in the dirt and beg him to forgive you,’ said the qazi angrily.
‘You are right O qazi. I have indeed insulted God and deserve to be punished. But I am an ignorant man and to avoid making this mistake again, I would be grateful if you could point my feet towards a direction in which God does not reside.’
The qazi was taken aback by Nanak’s request. He understood what Nanak was trying to tell him: God was omnipresent and His home was everywhere, so it was wrong to designate any one place as the house of God. While he was at Mecca, the Qazi and Nanak met often and later became good friends.
From Mecca, Nanak travelled to Medina and then on to Baghdad on to the banks of the Tigris in Iraq. There is a stone slab outside Baghdad, with an inscription on it, which tells us that Nanak had been to Baghdad. The Guru set up his camp near a tomb outside the city. In the evenings he would conduct kirtan, and many people came to hear him and appreciated the beauty of his hymns. But many others became angry because in the orthodox form of Islam, music was not allowed to be used in worship. The anger spread and one day a large group of men came to stone Nanak to death. But when they came close they saw him at prayer and the prayer he was singing was the azaan – which summons all the faithful Muslims to prayer – the stones fell from their hands and, one by one, they knelt, and joined in Nanak’s prayer. They understood now that here was a saint who respected all religions.
From Baghdad Nanak travelled to Iran. From there to Kabul and Jalalabad and over the Khyber Pass to Peshawar. He crossed the Indus into the Punjab and went to Saidpur to visit his uncle who lived there.
This was also the time when Babur invaded India. He had captured Sialkot and also Saidpur. The people of Saidpur had put up a strong resistance and this had angered Babur. As a result he was excessively cruel to the people of Saidpur. Many were killed and many taken prisoner. Nanak was also amongst the prisoners. While in prison, he conducted prayer meetings there too. The prison warden would listen to Nanak everyday and finally came to the conclusion that he was a great saint.
‘Your Majesty, we have committed a sin. Baba Nanak is a saint and we have made him a prisoner,’ the warden said to Babur.
Babur thought for a while, and then said, ‘If this is true, we must ask his forgiveness. I will go to see him myself.’
Babur visited the prison, and asked Nanak a number of questions, and from the answers Babur was convinced that Nanak was a holy man. He bowed to him and said, ‘Forgive me, O Holy One. I did not know what I was doing. As from this moment you are free, as are all your men.’
‘These are all my men,’ Nanak said, pointing to all the prisoners. ‘I cannot leave the prison without all of them,’ he added.
Babur smiled, ‘You are truly a great man.’ Then, turning to his officer, he said, ‘Release all the prisoners.’
‘Ask me for something, so that I may know you have forgiven me,’ Babur said.
‘I seek nothing, but if it will make you happy to do something for me, then return all the wealth and property of the people of Saidpur that has been confiscated by you, and also all that has been looted by your soldiers,’ Nanak said.
This was done and soon afterwards Babur returned to Kabul. Nanak stayed for a few days in Saidpur in the year 1521, and then returned to Kartarpur.
It was that lovely time of the day which in English they call ‘dusk’ and in Hindi goudhuli bela.
Nanak’s wife, Sulakhni, sat near her cooking fire, lost in thought as she waited for her sons to come home for their evening meal. It was winter, the darkness set in early and there was a chill in the air. But she sat close to the fire and did not feel the cold. She thought of her sons and how different they were from each other. Sri Chand, the elder, now twenty-six years old, was saintly like his father. He had no need for things. His clothes were those of a hermit, simple and plain, and just enough to cover his body. He ate little and that too only the simplest of food. He was always praying or reciting from the holy books. While he was a boy, he had lived with his aunt, Nanki, and when he had shown some interest in religion, it had made Nanki proud and happy. ‘He is just like Nanak,’ she would say and because she loved her brother so much, she encouraged Sri Chand to spend more time in learning about religion. Sri Chand grew up and became a sadhu.
‘Like father, like son,’ Sulakhni said to herself with a smile. Then she checked herself from pursuing this chain of thought. She told herself, ‘Be honest; he is not like his father.’ Sri Chand did not care about worldly things and spent a lot of time in prayers. In this, he was like his father. But in many ways he was very different. She had watched him once, while he was in discussion with some other holy men. When one of them disagreed with what he said, his eyes flashed and his face became ugly with anger, and he raised his voice at the other sadhus. He was proud of his knowledge and this pride made him arrogant. She had watched her husband too when he held his discussions with other holy men, and though they did not always agree with him, she had never seen anger or pride in her husband’s eyes. ‘No, Sri Chand was not like his father. But then neither was their younger son, Lakhmidas,’ thought Sulakhni.
She had kept the younger son with her and watched him grow. Every time he had shown interest in matters connected with religion or holy men, her heart had filled with fear. She was afraid that he would take after his father and she would lose him too. So she did everything to keep his mind fixed on worldly things. In this she was helped by her parents. They were always giving him new things – new clothes, new toys, new shoes, and all kinds of rich food to eat. He grew up with no interest in God or in prayers. She had succeeded in keeping him with her, but had paid a heavy price for this success. Her son had grown up to be a selfish, materialistic young man who thought only of himself, and showed no feeling or consideration for others. So, in a way, she had lost him too. If it had not been for Kalyan Chand and Tripta, her life would have been lonely. Like her, they too spent their days waiting for Nanak’s return. She smiled to herself as she thought of the soft quiet lives that the old couple led and of the love that had grown between them and her.
As she waited for her sons’ return, she heard footsteps coming down the long quiet street that led to her home. Her head came up with a start. The sound seemed so familiar. But it couldn’t be: So many times during these long years of waiting she had thought she had heard this familiar step. Yet when she had run to the door to look for Nanak, there had been no one there. She heard the sound again. The blood rushed to her head. Yes, there could be no mistaking it. Even after all these years, she remembered the sound of Nanak’s footsteps. She got up and ran to the door, and there he was, thin and gaunt; dressed in those strange clothes, his cheeks hollow, his beard now streaked with grey. He smiled at her and she fell at his feet and shed tears of joy.
‘Sulakhni Puttar, who is it? Who has come?’ And the weak, tired voice of Nanak’s mother, which was normally only a whisper, now came loud and clear with a strength that only hope can bring.
Nanak drew Sulakhni up, put his arm around her shoulder, and together they went into the house to meet his parents.
It was a joyous homecoming. As news of Nanak’s return spread through Kartarpur, people flocked to the Bedi house to meet their Guru.
Nanak was happy to meet his sons again, but they were so different from him, from everything that he believed in, that they were like strangers to him. He was a stranger to them too because he had spent so little time with them while they were growing up.
Nanak never put back on his sadhu’s clothes again. He wore the ordinary clothes that all common, middles-class men wore. He started the day, as he had always done, by having a bath and then spent a few hours in prayer and kirtan. The Guru’s compositions, the Japji Sahib and Asa-di-war were recited in the morning. Mardana, who had played the rabab for so many years while Nanak sang, continued to play even here in Kartarpur. He was joined by his son Shahzada, who had become as good a musician as his father. Large groups of people came to listen to the kirtan. Then Nanak ate a simple meal and went to work in the fields. These fields were all part of the area that had been gifted to him by his disciple Ajit Randhawa. Some of these fields had been cultivated by a few of Nanak’s followers, who had settled down in Kartarpur. Other fields remained fallow. Now Nanak began to cultivate these fields. He worked in the fields himself and this set a good example for all the other people who lived in Kartarpur and they too worked hard and enjoyed the fruits of their labour.
In the evening there was a discourse or a discussion on religion and then there was kirtan, where the Guru’s compositions – sodaru or aarti would be sung. Then all those who had attended the prayers, sat down and ate the evening meal together.
The number of pilgrims who came to Kartarpur grew steadily. People who came from far-away places had no place to stay because the people of Kartarpur had already taken in as many guests as they could.
One day Nanak sent for one of his disciples who was a master builder.
‘I want to build a dharamshala – a place where all the people who come from outside Kartarpur can stay in comfort. The dharamshala must have a big hall where our meetings can be held when the sun is too hot or when it rains, and of course you must also build the langar,’ said Nanak.
Word of the project quickly spread and by the time the master builder had finished making his design, cartloads of bricks, lime, and wooden beams had already been brought to Kartarpur by the Guru’s followers. By the time work on the digging of the foundation began, an army of men had descended upon Kartarpur. By the end of the year the dharamshala was ready. All the followers now had a place to stay. There was enough covered space for the religious meetings, and the big langar served meals twice a day to all who came. His disciples now brought vegetables and grain and food for the langar and there was always plenty of everything.
More than a year had passed since Nanak’s return to Kartarpur and his life had become so settled that people felt that he would not go away again. Sulakhni too believed that he would stay always with her and stopped looking at him with worry and fear. In the mornings and evenings, when he went in and spent some time with his parents, they were at last content.
One day, while Nanak was tilling the fields, Sri Chand came running to him. ‘Father, come quickly. Mother wants you at home.’ Nanak felt the fear in his son’s voice and knew that something was wrong, but he did not ask anything.
There was a crowd of people near the door and in the courtyard. They all stood there in silence and when they saw Nanak they made way for him. He went into the room and saw that his father had been lowered to the ground. His mother cradled her husband’s head in her lap. Kalyan Chand’s breath came in long gasps and his whole body shook as he breathed. He looked so weak and thin and tired that Nanak knew the end was near. Kalyan Chand raised his head as he saw Nanak come into the room and tried to smile. Then he held out a trembling hand to his son and Nanak, bending down, clasped it in both of his; and thus – his head cradled in his wife’s lap, his hand held firmly by his son; Kalyan Chand breathed his last.
There was a deep silence for a moment and then some of the women who stood outside the room began to weep. But Nanak did not weep, nor did Tripta. Nanak gently closed his father’s eyes, then taking his father’s head from his mother’s lap, he helped her to her feet and led her from the room.
The next few days were taken up by the funeral ceremonies. Through all these days, Tripta sat in silence – not weeping, not speaking, eating only a few morsels and that too when she was forced to eat. There was no outward sign of sorrow on her face as she sat praying, always praying. ‘What is it, mother? Why have you become so quiet?’ Nanak asked one day.
Tripta replied in a clear and strong voice, ‘I must prepare myself – I have to go join your father. I cannot leave him alone for long.’ And the day after all the ceremonies related to Kalyan Chand’s last rites were over, Tripta too passed away peacefully in her sleep.
Gradually, over the months, the people in Kartarpur became one community. Those who were farmers tilled the land but the grain was shared by all. Those who had skills like the potters, the weavers, the carpenters, and the masons used them in the service of the sangat. The women worked in the langar. They cut and cooked the vegetables and made the chapatis, and men who could make no other contribution, served the meals and washed the utensils. Those who had medical skills treated the sick; and those who were learned or had musical abilities, joined Nanak in the discourses and the kirtan. All the members of the community, those who stayed in Kartarpur and those who came to visit, served the sangat in one way or other.
During his travels, Guru Nanak had set up centres in many places, some of them very far away, and he had left these centres in the charge of his followers. Now his followers came from these centres to Kartarpur to learn more from their Guru, and take back new strength to their own centres. Kartarpur, the city of the Creator, thus became the centre of the Sikh world.
Many of the Guru’s disciples became famous and earned respect not only for their learning but also for their good, kind deeds.
One of these disciples was Bura. He had been a young boy of twelve when he first met the Guru. He belonged to a family of Randhawa Jats and lived in the Amritsar district. Like Nanak, when he was young, Bura too took the family cattle out to graze. Like Nanak, he too liked to spend his time in deep thought about religious matters. Once when on his travels Nanak stopped in a jungle just outside Bura’s village, Bura greeted the Guru with great respect and brought him refreshments. When it was time for the Guru to move on, Bura asked for a boon. Nanak smiled at the young boy.
‘What is it that you seek?’ asked Nanak.
‘Oh, holy one, I seek to be freed from the cycle of birth and rebirth,’ said Bura.
‘You are too young for such thoughts. From where did this idea come to you?’ Nanak wanted to know.
‘When Babur’s army came to our village his soldiers camped in this jungle. They took whatever they wanted from the villagers. Then they cut the corn in the fields. They cut the ripe corn with the unripe corn and made no distinction between the two. Watching them I realized that death also makes no distinction between the young and the old,’ said Bura.
The Guru hugged the boy and said, ‘You are not a child,’ he said. ‘You speak with the wisdom of an old man.’
So Bura came to be known henceforth as Bhai Budha. When the Guru set up his home in Kartarpur, Bhai Budha, too, moved permanently to Kartarpur. He was respected for his wisdom and his kindness and people came to him with their problems. He lived to the ripe old age of 125, and was fortunate enough to work with five successive Sikh Gurus.
Another famous disciple of Guru Nanak was Moola Keer. He lived a simple life according to the Guru’s teachings. He worked hard during the day and spent his time in reciting the Guru’s prayers and hymns in the evenings. He was an honest man and he spent most of his savings in looking after the Sikhs – as the followers of Guru Nanak came to be known – who stopped at his home on their way to Kartarpur. One day a Sikh, while resting in his house, saw Moola Keer’s wife putting some money and jewellery away in her cupboard. The Sikh waited till everyone in the house had gone to sleep and then he stole the jewellery and the money from the cupboard and put it in his bag. Early next morning he woke up Moola Keer and asked him to open the gate as he was in a hurry to resume his journey. While they were walking to the gate, the bag fell to the ground and the jewellery and money fell out. Moola did not say a word. He put the money and the jewellery back in the bag and gave it back to the Sikh.
The Sikh was so ashamed of what he had done, that on reaching Kartarpur, he confessed his crime to the Guru. The Guru sent for Mola Keer and when he was ushered to his presence, the Guru asked him, ‘This Sikh told me of your strange behaviour. Why did you give the jewellery and money back to this thief? You should have caught him and taken him to the kotwali.’
‘He is a Sikh,’ Moola replied in a quiet voice. He then continued, ‘If I had handed him to the police, everyone would have come to know and people would say that a Sikh had done something that was evil. This would have brought disrepute to all Sikhs.’
The Guru was pleased by what Moola said and asked him one last question. ‘On his return from Kartarpur this Sikh will stop in your village. Will you take him into your house?’ ‘Yes master. I will take him into my house and give him food and shelter and serve him as well as I can. You have taught us that we must hate the sin, not the sinner. There is nothing in my heart that I hold against him,’ Moola said without hesitation.
Perhaps the most well-known of the Guru’s disciple was Lehna. He came from the village which is now known as Sarai Nanga in Muktsar district. From Sarai Nanga he had moved to Khadur. He had been a great worshipper of the Goddess Durga. Then he had heard Nanak’s hymns and had come to Kartarpur. He was twenty-eight-years old, and served the Guru and the Guru’s sangat with great devotion. For Lehna the Guru’s word was a command and the service of the sangat was a form of worship. Though all members of the sangat were equal, Lehna was respected by all the others because of his great spirit of service. Ever since he had returned from his journeys, Nanak knew that neither of his sons could be his successor – Sri Chand lived a life of renunciation while Lakhmi Das was too materialistic. He chose Lehna as his successor. He brought him to the banks of the Ravi and embraced him, and said, ‘From now on you will be known as Angad, which means one who is a part of my body.’ Then Guru Nanak placed five copper coins before Angad and bowed to him. Thus Angad became the second Guru of the Sikhs and came to be known as Guru Angad Dev.
In 1530 Nanak made one last journey. It was a short journey across the Ravi to Achal, a small village in Batala district of Punjab. There was a very old and famous temple in Achal dedicated to Lord Shiva’s elder son, Kartik, and during Shivratri a big fair would be held in the town. During this fair many holy men came to Achal and held debates and discussions on subjects connected to religion. When Nanak was sixty-one-year old, he too came to Achal to take part in the Shivratri fair. By now his fame as a Guru had spread far and wide, and there were many of his disciples amongst the crowds of people thronging the fair. As Nanak neared Achal, news of his coming spread and people came out to greet him. Some asked him for his blessings, while some others asked for his advice. Most of them stayed to listen to his kirtan and his teachings. This aroused the jealousy of a few of the sadhus. They argued with him and tried to belittle him in the eyes of the crowd.
‘You were a sadhu for twenty-three years and you wore the sadhu’s dress and travelled far and wide. Now you have given up the sadhu’s attire and returned to your home and started working in the fields. The sadhu lives on a far higher plane than the farmer and others who work with their hands. You have demeaned yourself by giving up the sadhu’s life,’ said one of the sadhus. But Nanak only smiled.
‘Tell me, O holy one, what do you do when you are hungry? Where do you get your food from?’ asked Nanak.
The sadhu was surprised by this simple question. ‘Everyone knows that we earn nothing. The only food we eat is what we get when we go begging,’ he answered.
‘And who gives you this food?’ Nanak continued.
‘The householder, of course,’ replied the sadhu.
‘And the householder is one who works with his hands: the farmer the labourer, the weaver, the potter, all of them. Then I think the householder is greater than you. You become a sadhu and then go with your begging bowl to the householder. You would starve to death if he did not give you anything to eat,’ said Nanak at last.
Listening to such debates, many people at the fair were converted to Nanak’s teachings. He was a simple farmer himself and what he taught was a lesson that even ordinary people, who lived ordinary lives, and worked with their hands, could understand. On the last day of the fair, Nanak said goodbye to the other holy men and to his disciples; and with Mardana by his side, returned to Kartarpur.
When Mardana was seventy-six-years-old, he fell ill. Many famous hakims and vaids came to treat him, but to no avail. Nanak was always by his bedside. He caressed Mardana’s hair and this brought comfort to Mardana and he drifted off into an exhausted sleep. And still Nanak sat by his side. He looked closely at his friend’s face and saw him as he had been when they had first returned to Talwandi – surrounded by an admiring group of friends, as he told them amusing stories about their life in Sultanpur. He saw him as the rather plump young man who had gone with him on that first journey. He had not been happy to go because he loved good food, but on their journey, he often had to go hungry. Nanak smiled as he remembered that Mardana had always been hungry; had always asked for food. Through all his long journeys, Mardana had travelled with him in sun and rain and snow, over hills and plains and mountains, to regions that were strange and unfamiliar. He had looked after Nanak in every way, attended to all his needs and found joy in that service; and through it all he had learnt to laugh at all their troubles. Then, when they sang their hymns, he played his rabab with such feeling that those who listened to it were moved by the music. He had been with the Guru for so many years that he had become part of the Guru’s way of life and his teachings.
All these memories came rushing one after another through Nanak’s mind as he looked at his companion who was sleeping.
‘God, be merciful to my friend. He is a good man,’ he prayed silently.
Even though the illness continued to weaken him physically, yet with each passing day, Mardana seemed to become more and more at peace with himself and with his fast-approaching death.
Early one morning, he opened his eyes and saw the Guru still sitting by his side, the way he had sat when he went to sleep.
‘Master, my time has come,’ he said, without fear.
‘So be it, I will build a tomb over your body so that you will be famous,’ Nanak said.
‘No,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘My spirit is attempting to find release from this cage of bones and skin and flesh. Do not seek to hold it in a prison made of stone,’ he said and paused for breath. ‘And as for fame: I have all the fame in the world that I need. In years to come, whenever people talk of you – as I know they often will – they will talk of me too,’ said Mardana.
Nanak held his friend’s hand in both of his and squeezed it gently. In Mardana, he had found the respect and devotion that a disciple gives to his Guru; the love a friend gives to a friend; the support and affection that a brother gives to a brother.
Mardana closed his eyes and it seemed that he was asleep again. Then suddenly, he opened them wide and said, ‘Go, go Master. It is time. It is time for the morning prayers.’ His eyes fixed on his Master’s face – Mardana left this world. Nanak closed his friend’s eyes and drew the sheet over his face. Someone in the room began to sob, and Nanak saw that it was Shahzada, Mardana’s son. He drew him into an embrace and consoled him. Then he went quickly to bathe so that he could be in time for the morning prayers.
In the evening, Nanak began his discourse like every other day. When it was time for kirtan he remembered that Mardana was no more. Who would give the music for his song? He looked, as he had always looked, when he began his song, towards the spot where Mardana usually sat. He saw Shahzada, sitting in his father’s place, ready to start playing his rabab. Nanak smiled and began singing.
The years rolled by. The number of those who believed in Nanak and his teachings grew every day. People all over Punjab began to live the way Nanak had taught his Sikhs to live. They were freed from the empty customs and rituals that they had been forced to observe in the name of religion.
Nanak heard the voice of God calling out to him and knew that his time upon earth was now nearly over. He went to the banks of the river Ravi and lay down under a tree. Word spread quickly that the Guru’s end was near. His disciples hurried from far and wide for one last darshan of their Guru and he was constantly surrounded by his disciples. The end came peacefully on 27 September 1539, and Guru Angad Dev took over the leadership of the Sikhs.
*The four journeys undertaken by Guru Nanak at various stages of his life are as Udasis. In another context, Udasis are a sect started by Sri Chand, Nanak’s elder son when he did not get the gaddi. Their primary belief is that salvation can be achieved thorough renunciation – including the renunciation of family and loved ones.