Most of what is written about Guru Nanak has been learnt from the Janamsakhis. The Janamsakhis are stories from the Guru’s life. These stories have been put together in a chronological form and, when we read them, it is like reading a biography of the Guru. There are many such sets of stories, but the more important ones are the Bala Janamsakhis, the Puratan Janamsakhis, the Meherban Janamsakhis, and the Janamsakhis that are supposed to have been written by Sewa Dass and some others.
In modern times, Janamsakhis do not enjoy the same importance they did till about a hundred years ago. Till then people believed implicitly in everything that these stories contained. Now the readers feel that many of these stories and the details contained in them are not altogether authentic. The first of these sets of stories was written more than a hundred years after the Guru’s death. Till then they were handed down from father to son by word of mouth. As a result, each time these stories were retold, the story-teller modified or changed the story a little. By the time they were written, the stories had become very different from the way they had been told originally. Also, these stories were told by people who were not highly educated and they were told to simple village-folk who were, at best, semi-literate. To impress the villagers – who believed in magic and miracles – the writers brought in these elements into their stories. It is well known that the Gurus were against performing miracles or showing off their spiritual power.
So when the Janamsakhis tell us about the Guru performing miracles to impress his followers, we naturally doubt their authenticity. Yet, we cannot reject the Janamsakhis altogether. They are very important, because each of these stories is an illustration of some aspect of Guru Nanak’s teachings.
There are many interesting stories about the Guru in the Janamsakhis. However, it is possible to relate only a very few of these here.
When the Guru disappeared while he was bathing in the river, many believed that he had been drowned. When he reappeared and said he had heard a voice, many believed that a miracle had taken place. But when Nanak said again and again, ‘There is no Hindu, there is no Musalman,’ many believed that he had lost his reason. News of what Nanak had been saying was brought to the qazi, the head of all the Muslims in Sultanpur.
‘Your holiness, this kafir is saying over and over again: There is no Hindu, there is no Musalman. What does he mean?’ the people asked the qazi.
The qazi was very angry. He felt that if Nanak kept saying there is no Musalman, many Muslims would believe him and stop performing all the rituals that they should, as devout Muslims, be performing. He went to see Nawab Daulat Khan, the Lodhi ruler of Sultanpur about this. ‘Lord, this madman must be stopped immediately. He is preaching dangerous precepts,’ the qazi said. The Nawab could see that the qazi was angry, so he did not interrupt him. ‘He can say what he likes about the Hindus but he has no right to make comments about Islam. How can he say that there is no Musalman?’ asked the qazi.
The Nawab loved Nanak dearly and he had been very happy when Nanak had reappeared. But he had heard about the strange things Nanak was saying and now that the qazi had come to him, he knew that he had to do something to stop Nanak. So the Nawab sent for Nanak.
‘Tell us, Nanak, what do you mean when you say there is no Hindu, there is no Musalman. Are not the qazi and I followers of Muhammad?’ asked the Nawab.
‘There is no Hindu, there is no Musalman.’ Nanak repeated. ‘There are only true followers of God. We must be firm in our faith, our hearts must be clean, and we must not have any greed or pride. We must not be troubled by life or death. We must accept the will of God. We must be unselfish and kind to all. Only then can we call ourselves true Musalmans,’ he added
This made the qazi even angrier. ‘And what are you?’ he shouted at Nanak.
Nanak only smiled and in his soft, gentle voice said, ‘I am neither a Muslim nor a Hindu.’
‘Why?’ asked the qazi.
‘Because I try to live according to the teachings of all religions. To me all religions belong to God,’ said Nanak.
The qazi felt this was a good opportunity to trap Nanak. ‘It is time for offering the Friday namaz. If to you, all religions are one, join us in prayer in the mosque.’
‘That I will do with pleasure. I will follow when you lead the prayer,’ said Nanak.
So the Nawab, the qazi, and the Guru set off for the mosque. The qazi took his place at the head of the congregation. During the namaz, when all the other worshippers knelt, Nanak remained standing. The qazi saw this from the corner of his eye and, the moment the namaz was over, he turned to the Nawab and said, ‘See, my lord. This man is a liar and a cheat. He said all religions are equal and he would join us in namaz. But he did not do so. He must be punished.’ The qazi spoke very angrily and a crowd of people collected around him.
‘Tell me my friend, what do you have to say to this?’ the nawab asked Nanak.
Nanak did not reply to the nawab’s question. He turned, instead, to the qazi. With a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes he said, ‘You are a man of God, in the house of God, and you have just led a congregation of a thousand men in prayer. I know you will tell the truth. Tell me what was on your mind while you prayed?’
The qazi thought for a while, then he saw Nanak looking at him and the smile from Nanak’s lips had spread to his eyes. The qazi knew he must tell the truth. ‘I was thinking of my mare.’ He spoke softly but the silence around was so complete that everyone could hear him. ‘My mare gave birth to a foal last night. It was a difficult birthing, but all went well and I now have a beautiful foal. The stable is next to an open well and I was worried that the foal may fall into the well. This would be a great loss to me and so my mind was on my mare and her foal,’ said the qazi.
‘So tell me, O learned one. Does prayer consist only of kneeling and bowing and reciting a few words?’ asked Nanak.
‘No,’ said the qazi, now understanding why Nanak had not joined him in prayer. ‘Prayer is to control the mind, so that when you praise God, you think only of Him and of nothing else. You are right, Nanak, while my body was bowing to God, my mind and spirit were full of other things,’ the qazi added.
In another story from the Janamsakhis, Nanak and Mardana were on their first journey. It was the beginning of monsoon and they travelled in the heavy rain. From the forests at the foothills of the Himalayas, the two travellers moved slowly down to the Gangetic plain. They stopped to rest in little villages and in the evenings, if it was not raining, Nanak conducted kirtan in the courtyard of his host’s house. His fame spread quickly and people came from far to listen to his songs and to hear his teachings. Amongst the people who came was a shopkeeper from a nearby town. At first he came because he had heard so much about the Guru and wanted only to see who this strange holy man was. But once he heard Nanak’s teachings, he became a disciple and came every evening without fail. The moment he closed his shop, he would rush home, spend a few moments with his family and then hurry to the village where Nanak dwelt. He knew the Guru would soon move on and he did not want to miss a single day of his kirtans. He spent hours not only in the service of the Guru, but also in the service of other members of the sangat. In this service he found more happiness than he had ever known before.
One morning he was a little late in opening his shop. As he walked up the steps, he was humming one of Nanak’s hymns. His neighbouring shopkeeper had already opened his shop and called out to him, saying, ‘You seem very happy these days, my friend. Your business must be thriving.’
‘Yes, my business is very good these days, but it is the business of the mind and spirit,’ the shopkeeper replied.
‘What do you mean?’ asked the other shopkeeper.
‘I go everyday to listen to the teachings of my Guru and he has brought me great wealth of the mind and the spirit. He has brought me close to God,’ said the first shopkeeper
‘Take me also to meet your Guru, perhaps he will make me rich as well,’ said the other shopkeeper.
‘You can come whenever you choose. You can come this evening when we close our shops,’ the Guru’s disciple offered.
But in the evening the second shopkeeper turned to pleasures of the flesh and did not go with the Guru’s disciple.
Every day he would call out to his friend to take him to his Guru and every day he would give in to temptation and stay back. So the Guru’s disciple led the life of a saint, serving his Guru and the other members of the sangat, showing kindness to everyone, spending his spare time in prayer. The second shopkeeper led a selfish life in which he thought only of his pleasure and his thoughts, words, and actions were full of sin.
One day, the second shopkeeper was waiting for some friends under a tree just outside the town. As he waited and with nothing better to occupy him, he picked up a stick and began to dig up the earth. He saw something shining in the soil he had dug up and, on picking it up, found it was a gold coin. He ran home and brought a pickaxe and began to dig, sure that he would find more gold. At last his pickaxe struck something hard. He dug up the loose soil with his hands and found a big earthen jar buried in the ground and was sure that he had found buried treasure. He held the jar in his lap and loosened the lid, but when he opened the jar, he was disappointed to find that it was was full of ash. He turned the jar over and emptied all the ash. Then, very carefully, he rummaged through the ash, a little at a time, so that he would not miss anything. But there were no more gold coins to be found and he was very disappointed. But then he consoled himself with the thought that one gold coin was better than none at all.
He returned to his shop. Soon he saw his friend and neighbour coming to open his shop. The Guru’s disciple walked with a limp and his left foot was bandaged.
The second shopkeeper called, ‘What has happened to you?’
‘Today, while returning from my Guru’s village, a thorn went into my foot. It went in deep and when I pulled it out, my foot began to bleed. I had to have it bandaged,’ said the disciple.
Hearing this, the second shopkeeper began to laugh, and said ‘You are the one who talked about wealth and look at the wealth each of us has got. You, who are good and kind, have been given a thorn in your foot while I, who lead a life of sin and debauchery, have been given a gold coin. I wonder how your Guru will explain this.’
The Guru’s disciple smiled and said, ‘Come with me this evening and you can hear what he says.’
So, that evening the second shopkeeper, at last, came into the Guru’s presence. He listened to the kirtan and to Nanak’s teachings and when the sangat moved away for the evening meal, his friend led him up to the Guru and introduced him saying, ‘Master, this is my friend and neighbour. His shop is next to mine and he has a question to ask you.’
The Guru listened to the question, looking carefully at his disciple as the other shopkeeper spoke. Then he smiled and turned to the speaker and said, ‘You are right. You can think of the gold coin as a reward and the thorn as a punishment. But let me put it another way. I say that you were destined to find a big jar, full of gold coins but because you lead a life of sin, the coins in the jar were turned into ash and you found only one coin. Your friend was destined to be impaled on a sharp stake but because of his good deeds, the stake was reduced to a small thorn. Man’s life is made up of the actions he performs. If his actions are bad, even the good that comes his way is reduced. If his actions are good, even the harm that comes his way is reduced.’
The Guru next went to the sangat at Prayag which is now called Allahabad. Here the three rivers – the Ganga, the Yamuna and the mythical Saraswati – meet. This point is considered very holy and special merit is attached to bathing in the sangam at Allahabad. It is felt that by doing this all of one’s sins can be washed away, especially on days that have been designated for this purpose. On these days, the banks of the river are crowded with thousands of people all waiting to bathe in the river, at the time which the priests have declared as most auspicious. People come from all over the country to Prayag to bathe in the holy waters.
When the Guru reached Allahabad, the biggest of these holy fairs – the Kumbh Mela – was in progress. It is held once in twelve years and marks the special configuration of the stars during the month of ‘Baisakh’, and commemorates the spilling of a few drops of the holy nectar (amrit) at this spot, when the Gods carried it away from the rakshas.
For fifteen days during the mela, every bit of open land is covered with camps of holy men and pilgrims. Each group says its special prayers and practices its own customs. But at the appointed time, they all come to the sangam to bathe.
The Guru arrived on the banks of the holy river and set up his camp. Mardana played the rabab and the Guru sang a song in praise of God. The music was so sweet, Nanak’s voice was so strong and pure, and the words of the song so beautiful, that crowds of people gathered around to listen.
‘Who is this holy man?’, a whisper went around the crowd. ‘We have not seen him here before,’ they agreed.
Then someone answered, ‘He is Nanak, the great Guru from Punjab. He travels far and wide to bring his teachings to people even in distant lands.’ So in a few days Nanak had drawn many followers to his teachings. There was a mahant who had his camp close to Nanak’s camp. His jealousy was aroused when he saw that his followers were abandoning him to listen to Nanak’s teachings. He began to say nasty things about Nanak, but no one would listen to him.
Guru Nanak sat in meditation. Suddenly he heard a great commotion around him. It was Brahma muhurta (a period of one and a half hours before sunrise), the time which is considered most holy by the pundits for a bath in the holy waters. So it was thought that anyone who bathed in the sangam at Prayag at this time would become so pure that he would surely go to heaven when he died.
Everyone ran to the river to bathe but Nanak sat on, lost in his thoughts. One by one the pilgrims and the holy men returned, sure that their dip in the holy waters had made them so pure that they would go to heaven. When the neighbouring mahant returned he saw that Nanak had not taken a bath and the auspicious time had passed. He felt this was his chance to belittle Nanak and win his followers back. He stood outside Nanak’s camp and called out loudly, ‘Look at this foolish man. He has come all the way to Prayag but at the auspicious time he has not bathed in the river.’ He repeated these words many times and soon a large crowd collected. Nanak’s new disciples were surprised that their Guru had been so careless. They had thought that like all of them, he too had come to Prayag to bathe in the holy waters to wash away his sins.
‘Why should I have bathed in the water at this particular time?’ Nanak asked the mahant in a clear and strong voice.
‘You know why. You need to bathe in order to wash away your sins. You know that anyone who bathes in the river at this time becomes pure, as all his sins are washed away by the holy waters,’ the mahant shouted in anger.
‘We cannot become pure by merely washing our bodies. We can become pure by making a place for God in our hearts. If our minds hold evil thoughts towards other men, if we are ready to cheat and to steal, how can the mere washing of our bodies in the holy waters make us pure? We will be like a brass utensil which has been polished from the outside till it shines, but which is filled with poison inside. Saints are pure and holy, even when they do not bathe; and sinners remain sinners, even if they bathe four times a day,’ said Nanak.
Now, let us move towards the fourth story. When Guru Nanak set out on his journey to Lanka from Prayag, he passed once again through Lahore. This time word had already reached Lahore that the Guru was coming. In Lahore, there lived a very rich merchant by the name of Duni Chand. Once a year, Duni Chand performed memorial ceremonies for his dead father. It so happened that during that particular year, these ceremonies were being performed at the time when Nanak came to Lahore. Among these ceremonies was a grand feast for Brahmins and holy men. When Duni Chand heard that Nanak the Guru was coming to Lahore, he personally escorted the Guru to his house and offered him great hospitality. Nanak saw signs of great wealth around him, and Duni Chand himself boasted about his great riches.
The Guru stayed with him for a few days. He took part in all the ceremonies and Duni Chand and the Guru got to know each other well. One evening the Guru took out a needle and gave it to Duni Chand. ‘Duni Chand, you have been a very good host and you have looked after me very well. You are now my dear friend and I have great trust in you. This needle is important to me. Please keep it with you, keep it very carefully and after our deaths, when we meet in the next world, give it back to me,’ said Nanak.
Duni Chand went back to his room quite confused. He did not understand why the Guru had given him something so ordinary as a needle to look after carefully and carry into the next world.
At night as he was getting ready to go to bed, his wife asked him, ‘What is it that is troubling you? I have never before seen you with such a serious look on your face.’
‘You know Guru Nanak?’ Duni Chand asked.
‘Who does not know him?’ his wife said with a smile.
Duni Chand took out the needle and said to his wife, ‘He gave me this needle. He told me it was important to him, and asked me to look after it very carefully; and when we meet in the next world, to give it back to him. I cannot understand why he has asked me to look after a needle in this way.’
Duni Chand’s wife was a wise woman. She smiled at her husband’s confusion.
‘It is so simple, my husband. Will you be able to take this needle with you when you die?’
Duni Chand thought about the question for a moment and said, ‘No, of course not. I will not be able to take it with me when I die.’
‘And where will all your wealth go? If you are not able to take a small thing like a needle with you, will you be able to take your whole wealth with you?’ asked Duni Chand’s wife.
Duni Chand understood at last what the Guru was attempting to teach him. The food he had fed to Brahmins and holy men would not cross the barriers of death and reach his father, just as all the money he had collected would not go with him when he died. What would go with him were his good deeds. Far better to feed the hungry than to feed the Brahmins; far better to use his money to help the poor than to keep it locked up in the hope of carrying it into the next world.
Duni Chand opened up his treasure chests and used all his money for the welfare of the poor after this. Nanak has talked about death in his Janamsakhis. Perhaps the most beautiful Janamsakhi is the one about Nanak’s last moments on this earth.
Nanak lay under a tree on the river-bank just outside Kartarpur. Angad sat with Nanak’s feet in his lap, his heart heavy not only with the grief of the approaching end but also with the burden of the responsibilities that he would soon have to carry.
All day, people from distant places came to see their Guru one last time. Sometimes, Nanak would close his eyes and sleep, sometimes he would be awake, but he did not see any of his followers. His breathing was heavy and the end was very near. A wind struck up and shook the leaves of the trees. Some of the dry leaves rattled as they struck each other.
Nanak opened his eyes and looked up at the leaves. Then he looked at Angad and smiled. And Angad understood the meaning of that smile – that the old leaves must fall and make place for the new; just as the old must leave the world to make place for the young. Then the Guru’s eyes became clouded again and he seemed to lose awareness of the world around him, and of the people who sat by his side.
A murmur started amongst the Guru’s Muslim followers, who sat on his left. At first Angad could not make out what they said. Then, as their voices became louder, he heard the words clearly, ‘He is ours, our pir, our holy man. So when he dies, his body must be handed over to us so that we can give it holy burial.’
The Hindu followers who sat on the Guru’s right were very upset by this claim. ‘No, no. Nanak was born a Hindu. His father’s name was Kalyan and his mother’s name was Tripta. In his teachings there is a great deal that he has taken from the Hindu way of life. Besides, he has never said that he is a Musalman. So how can you say he is yours? He is our Guru and his body will be ours so that we can give him the funeral rites that all true-born Hindus need in order to go to heaven,’ protested the Hindu followers.
The Guru opened his eyes and chuckled softly and Angad held up his hand and the quarrelling disciples fell silent. ‘You are both right,’ he said, looking first towards one group and then towards the other. ‘I belong to both of you. But there is a way to solve this difficulty. Each of you must bring flowers, lots of flowers, and put them beside me. The Muslims must put their flowers along my left side and the Hindus must put them along my right. Then tomorrow when it is time for my funeral, you must look carefully at your flowers. If the Hindus’ flowers are fresh, then I belong to the Hindus and they can cremate my body; and if the Muslims’ flowers are fresh then I belong to the Muslims and they may do with my body as they wish,’ said Nanak. By now, he was tired; he closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.
The Guru’s commands were obeyed and both Hindus and Muslims brought flowers and put them down as the Guru had directed. Then they sat down to wait out the night. Some of them slept, others looked at the Guru’s face by the fluttering light of the oil lamps that burned near his head, afraid of what they saw in that sleeping face. The breathing became softer and softer. It was how only a little while before dawn. It was the time that the Guru described as amrit vela – the time of nectar – the Guru’s favourite time of the day.
The Guru awoke one last time. In a very faint voice he asked his followers to pray. He himself said one last prayer, then drawing his sheet over his face he went into eternal sleep.
All through the morning the disciple sat beside their Guru in silence. Then in the afternoon when it was time for the funeral ceremonies, the Hindus and Muslims both carefully examined the flowers they had brought. The Muslims looked at their flowers and found they were still as fresh as when they had brought them. When the Hindus looked at their flowers they too found that they were as fresh as when they had been plucked. Both sides looked at each other in wonder. Even in his death the Guru had underscored the lesson he had taught all through his life. All men are equal. There is no Hindu. There is no Musalman. There are only decent men, like the Guru, who have made their lives as beautiful and fresh and sweet-smelling as flowers with the good deeds that they have performed and spread the perfume of their deeds far and wide.