Chapter 7

GURU AMAR DAS
(1479–1574)

It was still an hour before dawn, but Amar Das could lie in bed no longer. He was restless and his mind refused to be still. For the major part of his sixty years, he had always woken up at dawn and joined his father in prayer. Then over the years, as he grew older, he went often to the holy towns of Haridwar and Kurukshetra, sometimes once a year, sometimes even twice. He spent a lot of his time and money in helping the poor, the sick, and the needy. He was respected by all the village-folk because he never spoke loudly, never lost his temper, and always worked for the good of others. But in the last few years, his visits to the holy towns, his bathing in the holy waters of the Ganga, and even his acts of charity had not brought him much peace. On his last trip to the Ganga, he had met a monk, a brahmachari. They talked of many things, about life and religion, and the monk was impressed by Amar Das’ knowledge and learning. They spent a lot of time together. So when they were returning from Hardwar, it was only natural that Amar Das should invite the monk to stop for a night in his home in Basarke in Amritsar.

After the evening meal, they climbed up to the terrace where their cots had been laid. They talked late into the night and just as they were about to fall asleep, the monk asked, ‘You are so wise and know so much about religion. Who is your Guru?’

‘I do not have a Guru,’ replied Amar Das.

‘What?’ the monk said in surprise. ‘You do not have a Guru? Then all my trips to the Ganga and all my fasts have come to nought because I have lived with you and eaten food with you,’ he added. The monk left the house at once and hurried back to Haridwar to bathe again in the holy Ganga. He had committed a ‘sin’ by being with a man who had no guru and needed to wash away his sins.

Amar Das was very upset by this incident. It had been three nights since the monk had left in anger and all the three nights he had not been able to sleep. Perhaps this was the reason why he had not found peace even after twenty years of bathing in the Ganga. Without a guru, his search had been futile. Now, unable to stay in bed any longer, he got up, and very carefully, one step at a time, he felt his way down the staircase. He was halfway down, when he heard the voice of Bibi Amro, his brother Manak Chand’s daughter-in-law. She was the daughter of Guru Angad Dev of Khadur. She had won the hearts of her husband’s family through her kind, gentle ways and had brought to her new home, the Sikh way of life and the teachings of both Guru Nanak and Guru Angad Dev. The first light had now broken and he could see the dim outline of the girl’s figure as she swept the courtyard of his brother’s house. She was afraid of disturbing the other members of her family so she sang her hymn in a soft voice. But in the stillness before dawn, Amar Das could hear each word clearly. He stood where he was, moved by the sweetness of the voice and the beauty of the words. This was not the first time that Amar Das had heard Bibi Amro singing this hymn. But Amar Das had been secure in his beliefs and had not wished to change and so he had not listened to her words properly. But now, after the monk’s rebuke, he was full of doubt. Now he listened to her words. In the beauty of Bibi Amro’s song he saw a path along which he could continue his search.

The song finished. It was now light. Amar Das hurried into his brother’s courtyard and fell at Amro’s feet. She covered her head and face and quickly drew back. ‘What are you doing Babaji?’ she asked.

‘I bow before the voice that spoke through you. I bow before the truth and wisdom of these words. Bibi take me to your Guru at once.’ Perhaps both Amro and Manak Chand knew in their hearts that this was a very special moment, and they gave in to Amar Das’ wish. A short while later, Amro and Amar Das set out on the journey from Basarke to Khadur Sahib. They came, at last to Khadur, to the Guru’s presence. Amro went in to bring the news of Amar Das’ arrival to her father and the Guru, out of respect to a man who was almost twice his age, rose to his feet and went forward to embrace him. But Amar Das would have none of this. He fell at the Guru’s feet and said: ‘I come as a humble disciple, Guruji. Give me a place at your feet.’

He was true to his word. During the twelve years that followed, all that he sought was a place at the Guru’s feet. He worked like any other humble servant of the sangat. In spite of his advancing years, he worked hard, and watching him, the Guru would often smile. In Amar Das’ humility and spirit of devotion, he saw himself, the young Lehna, who had worked selflessly in the service of the Guru at Kartarpur. He saw the same spirit, the same light, a spirit and a light which he had not seen in any one else, not even in his own sons.

It was difficult for Amar Das to accept the new way of life. One by one, he had to give up beliefs that he had held dear for so long. The Guru said there was only one formless God but like all true Hindus, he had believed there were many deities, each of whom was a form of God. He himself had chosen to worship one of these deities, Lord Vishnu. The Guru taught that because God was without form, it was wrong to worship idols. Amar Das had worshipped idols all his life. Wherever he had gone, he had looked first for the idol so that he could offer his prayers. The Guru taught that there was no merit to be earned by going on pilgrimages and bathing in holy waters. He himself had spent a lifetime going to Haridwar and bathing in the waters of the Ganga.

And yet, painful as it was to give up all his beliefs, Amar Das did not hesitate. He did as the Guru taught because the Guru was above everyone. He filled his mind with the Guru’s words, his days with the Guru’s service, and there was no place for anything else.

When Choudhary Gobind built the Guru Mahal in Goindwal and asked Guru Angad to come and live in it, the Guru told Amar Das to go in his place. He also told Amar Das to bring his family to Goindwal. In this way Amar Das could now also perform the duty which Guru Nanak had asked all his followers to perform, the duty of the householder.

Though he lived in Goindwal, Amar Das would get up very early in the morning, go to Khadur and spend the whole day in the service of his Guru and of the sangat. There was one particular service that he found special pleasure in. Every morning, he carried fresh water from the river for the Guru’s bath. For years he had never failed in this service. His Guru needed to be at the prayer meeting at dawn and before that he needed to have the water for his bath. So Amar Das woke up three hours earlier to bring the water to his Guru on time.

Then one morning, on a dawn that was darker than any other, Amar Das or Amru, as he was called by some, missed his way in the dark, lost his footing and stumbled into a pit that a weaver had made for his loom. Somehow he was able to save the precious water from spilling. The rain had made the ground slippery and he could not step out of the pit without spilling the water and thus called out for help.

The first light had broken in the sky and the Guru waited for Amar Das and because Amar Das had never been late before, the Guru was sure that something bad had happened. He walked quickly towards the river. He came to the weavers’ huts and picked his way through them and then he stopped. Very clearly he heard Amar Das’ cries for help. Then, from the hut nearest to him, he heard the weaver say to his wife, ‘Someone is calling for help.’

‘It must be Amru the homeless, wandering around in the dark. Go back to sleep,’ the woman said to her husband.

The Guru reached the pit, drew the pitcher of water from his disciple’s head and set it on the ground. He rescued Amar Das from the pit and held him in his embrace for long. He then sent for Bhai Budha. Then the Guru bathed Amar Das with the water that had been so carefully brought for him. He dressed him in new clothes and asked Bhai Budha to anoint him. He himself bowed before him and addressed him, ‘Home of the Homeless, the honour of the unhonoured, the support of those without support.’ Thus was Guru Amar Das ordained as the third Guru of the Sikhs at the age of seventy-three. He set up his centre at Goindwal. A few months later, Guru Angad breathed his last and all the Sikhs now looked to Guru Amar Das for guidance and came to Goindwal to seek his blessings. Two rules that Guru Amar Das had laid down at the very outset were: All those who came to see him must first eat food in his langar, the rich along with the poor, the high-caste with the low-caste; the second rule was that no woman was to observe purdah.

Once Goindwal became the headquarters of the new Guru, the town began to grow very quickly. People came to meet the Guru and seek his blessings and decided to stay on in the town. Goindwal was located at an important point on the road from Lahore to Delhi. Because of this, there were many travellers on the road, and the town became an important trading centre. So many buildings were being constructed that there was not enough wood and the Guru sent his nephew Sawan Mal to Haripur to obtain wood, which could then be floated down the Beas. Sawan Mal brought the teachings of the Gurus to the people of the area around Haripur. Eventually the raja of Haripur and his queen became the Guru’s disciples.

One day a band of devotees came from Lahore and among them was a very handsome young man. His name was Ram Das but people called him Jetha. Jetha impressed everyone, not only by his good looks but also by his pleasing manners. He stayed in Goindwal and spent his days in the service of the sangat. He worked so hard that everyone noticed it; the Guru noticed it too but made no comment.

At about this time the Guru ordered the building of a baoli – a large well at Goindwal. This could be reached by climbing down eighty four steps. His followers could cleanse their bodies by bathing in the baoli before they came to prayers. The Guru also named Baisakhi (April 13), Maghi, the first day of the Indian month of Magh, and Diwali as the three days on which his followers should come from far and near to the Guru’s dera.

The Guru had taken personal interest in the construction of the baoli and would spend hours in supervising the work. He saw Jetha working from morning till night, sometimes carrying the mud away like a common labourer, sometimes carrying the mortar for the bricklayers. Always there was a smile of joy on the young man’s face, but still the Guru did not say anything.

By now there were hundreds of disciples who came to Goindwal everyday and the Guru realized that the number of his followers had become very large and there was need to set up a proper organization.

He divided the northern region into twenty-two units; and each unit was called a manji. The name was used because Gurus sat on a manji or cot when they met their visitors. Each manji was headed by a faithful disciple, who gave guidance to all the Sikhs in his area. The Guru also trained a band of 146 followers, of whom 52 were women, to attend to the spiritual needs of his followers. These apostles or masands, as they were called, could organize prayer meetings, spread the teachings of the Guru and collect offerings. As a result, the Guru’s teachings were spread far and wide, and this increased the number of the Guru’s followers even further. Ever since Sawan Mal had brought the Guru’s teachings to the hill people, and the raja of Haripur had become his disciple, many Rajputs too had joined the ranks of the Guru’s followers.

One day the Guru received a message that one of his followers, a young Rajput from the hills, had died from snakebite. As was his habit, he put everything aside and went to the youth’s home to try and comfort the family. He gave all the comfort and solace he could to the boy’s mother and father.

Then he looked around and saw the boy’s wife. She was dressed as a bride. She wore a red suit and her bridal jewellery, and on her hands and feet were the marks of fresh mehendi. When she finally looked up at the Guru, there was fear in her eyes. He recognized her now, and remembered the time she had come to Goindwal, three years ago, as a new bride. She had come, with her husband’s family, to his house to seek his blessing. When she had bent down to touch his feet, he had stopped her and drawn her up and looked into her face. She had met his eyes briefly and then looked down again. In that brief moment he had seen fear in her eyes, fear of being in a new place, of being among strangers. He remembered clearly what had happened next. He had given her the silver coin that he gave all new brides and new-born children as a token of his blessings. Then, as she had turned to go he had stopped her. ‘Do not be afraid. You may be a daughter-in-law in the home that you are going to, but in my home you will always be my daughter.’ She had looked quickly into his eyes again and this time the fear in her eyes was gone. Then she had turned and followed her husband out of the house. Now here she was, a young widow, being compelled by her family to commit sati.

No, the Guru decided, this could not be, not here in his dera. He took the girl’s hand and raised her to her feet and led her out of the house. The family members, too surprised to react, parted and made way for the Guru. As he walked past the father of the dead boy, the Guru stopped and addressed him.

‘Remember, you brought the young girl to my house as a new bride three years ago?’ asked the guru. The father-in-law did not look up.

‘I said then that though she was your daughter-in-law, she was my daughter. With the death of your son she is no longer your daughter-in-law. That tie has been broken. She remains my daughter and I have come to take my daughter home.’

Even though a terrible tragedy had been averted, there was still great sadness that hung over the girl’s life. Widows were looked down upon; they were regarded as unlucky and not allowed to take part in any function. They had to dress in white and eat the simplest of food. The Guru felt strongly about this, he felt it was cruelty that society inflicted on the unfortunate women. When he found a suitable man amongst his followers, he encouraged him to marry the young widow. So word went forth in the community about the marriage that was to be held. All preparations were made but no pundit could be found to perform the ceremony. It was against their religion, they said, no one had ever heard of a widow being remarried. The time came for the wedding and still no pundit would come forward. Finally the wedding was performed by the Guru himself. Instead of Sanskrit shlokas and mantras the Punjabi hymns of the Guru were recited and the two became man and wife. Happiness returned once more to the girl’s life.

The Guru gave instructions that prohibited the practice of sati among his followers and the remarriage of a widow was to be regarded as an act of virtue. He said that pundits were no longer required for performing religious ceremonies, and any Sikh could perform these ceremonies. The ceremonies themselves no longer consisted of reciting Sanskrit prayers, which no one understood, but the singing of the Gurus’ hymns, which everyone knew and understood.

The Brahmins were angry with the Guru because he had broken the caste barriers by insisting that everyone eat together. He had also done away with the practice of sati and encouraged widow-remarriage. Also, he had undermined their importance by saying that religious ceremonies could be performed without them. They put their heads together and sent a deputation to emperor Akbar’s court. The Brahmins complained that the Sikhs, under their Guru, were destroying the Hindu religion and doing everything against the rules of the religion. Akbar gave the Brahmins a patient hearing.

‘I cannot take any action till I have heard what the Guru has to say in answer to these charges,’ said Akbar. He sent a message to the guru asking him to come to his court at Lahore. Guru Amar Das was too old to make the journey and sent Bhai Jetha as his envoy. The only advice the Guru gave Jetha was that he must answer all questions carefully, honestly, and without fear.

When Bhai Jetha reached the emperor’s court, he was treated with great respect and given a very special welcome. He was told of the complaint that the Brahmins had made and he gave satisfactory answers to all the charges that had been made against his guru and his teachings.

‘Caste is not important. It is our deeds that are important. A low-caste shudra can be a very good man because of his good deeds, and a high-born Brahmin can be a sinner because of his evil deeds. God is without form. It is wrong to make idols of him and to worship these idols. If it gives comfort to visit holy places and bathe in holy waters, we may do so. But we must remember that the best way to wash our sins is to understand our own deeds, to see where we have done evil and vow to be good and kind in the future. We must insist on good thoughts and good actions and not on empty rituals and the observance of strict rules regarding our food or our ceremonies. Any practice which reduces other human beings, especially women, to the level of subhumans and does not allow them even the right to read the holy books, cannot be a practice that is sanctified by any religion,’ thus spoke Jetha in front of Akbar.

Akbar was very impressed by what Bhai Jetha had said and dismissed all the charges against the Guru and the Sikhs. He sent Jetha back to Goindwal with presents for the Guru and a promise that he would come to the Guru to seek his blessings.

When the emperor reached the dera he was asked, like all other visitors, to partake of food in the langar. The normal langar fare was put before him.

‘Is this what the Guru eats?’ he asked one of the attendants.

‘No, Your Majesty. The Guru eats only ogra,’ replied the attendant.

‘Then I must eat only ogra. What is good enough for the Guru is good enough for me,’ said Akbar.

So a small helping of the dish cooked from coarse unseasoned rice was put before the emperor. As he ate, he noticed hundreds of pilgrims who were being fed in the langar and was greatly impressed by the organization and by the Guru’s generosity. After he had eaten, the emperor was brought to the Guru, who greeted him with affection. They talked together for a long time about religion and about spiritual matters. At last it was time for the emperor to leave. He thanked the Guru for his blessings.

‘I would like to do something for you to show my gratitude,’ Akbar said before he left.

‘The Almighty fulfills all our needs,’ the Guru replied.

‘The need is not yours, O Guru,’ Akbar said in all humility. He further added, ‘The need is mine. I feel the need to do something for you and for the dera. I would like to give you a jagir and the income from this land could be used to help meet the expenses of the langar.’

‘The langar looks after itself,’ the Guru replied. ‘The faithful bring what they have to offer and what they bring is cooked and distributed. Nothing runs short; nothing is saved for the next day, each day we start afresh and God always provides.’

The emperor was confused. As he had said, the need to give was really his need. Then he saw Bhai Jetha and Bibi Bhani sitting a little away from them. He remembered Bhai Jetha well and he also knew that he was married to the Guru’s daughter, Bibi Bhani.

‘Your daughter is my daughter,’ he said, happy that he had found a way out of the dilemma.

‘I would like to give a present to my daughter,’ he added.

‘So be it, that I cannot forbid,’ said the Guru.

A few days later, a band of officials from the Mughal Court came to the dera with the registration papers of a piece of land, as a gift for Bhai Jetha and Bibi Bhani.

For long it had been in the Guru’s mind that the Sikhs should have a permanent centre of their own. Tradition too demanded that before the new Guru was anointed, he needed to have set up his own centre. The Guru knew that Jetha, when he became Guru, would have to move out of Goindwal, just as he himself had to move out of Khadur, and Guru Angad Dev had to move out of Kartarpur. So he called Jetha and asked him to set up a new township on the land that had been gifted to him.

At about this time, Guru Amar Das feeling that his end was near called Bhai Budha and other prominent Sikhs, including his sons, Mohan and Mohri, to him. He declared that Jetha, who would henceforth be called by his original name Ram Das, would be the next Guru. Bhai Budha applied the saffron tilak as an act of anointment and Guru Amar Das placed the coconut and the copper coins at Ram Das’ feet and bowed to him. Everyone present, bowed to Ram Das, who now became the fourth Guru of the Sikhs.

Guru Amar Das died in 1574 at the ripe old age of ninety-five. With his typical humility, just before his death he said that his followers should not observe the rites and customs of mourning that are meant for the dead. They should only recite God’s name, and as true Sikhs, submit to the will of God.

He had become the Guru at the age of seventy-three, an age at which most men say they have done with life and are happy to live in retirement. But in the twenty-two years that remained to him, he achieved a great deal. His teachings were simple: ‘Do good to others by giving good advice, by setting a good example, and by always having the welfare of mankind in your heart.’

He reorganized the administration of the Sikh community so that the word of the Guru could reach more people. He set up twenty two centres for the Sikhs so that they could get immediate help for all their problems from the nearest centre and not have to wait till they came to him.

He championed the cause of women. He took them out of purdah, forbade the practice of sati and encouraged widow remarriage. He said that women were in every way equal to men and fifty two of his apostles were women.

The Guru was a great poet; he composed 907 hymns and reached out to his followers with his poetry and that of the first two Gurus. These are great achievements, but we must also remember Guru Amar Das, the third Guru of the Sikhs, as a model of kindness. Whenever there was any pain or sorrow in the home of one of his followers, it was as if there was pain and sorrow in his own home, and he would abandon everything and go to comfort the one who was suffering. He fulfilled Guru Angad Dev’s prophecy in more than ample measure. He was truly ‘the home of the homeless, the honour of the unhonoured and the support of those without support.’