Chapter 19
VICHORA – THE SEPARATION
Raja Ajmer Chand now realized that he could not prevail against the Guru, and felt it was better to be on friendly terms with him rather than to have him as an enemy. He wrote to the Guru asking for peace and in order to establish cordial relations between them, and suggested that the Guru should accept his ambassador at Anandpur. Guru Gobind Singh did not trust Ajmer Chand, and was sure that the so-called ambassador would be a spy. Yet he accepted the raja’s offer because he knew that, as the victor in the recent battle, it would be ungracious of him to refuse an offer of peace from the loser.
The other kings too followed Ajmer Chand’s example and made overtures of friendship, to which the Guru readily responded.
Peace seemed to have returned to the area and the kings and the Guru appeared to be on friendly terms. But in his heart the Guru knew that this was a prelude to more trouble. He began to prepare for this even before the dust had settled on the battlefield after his last battle.
The first thing he did was to strengthen Anandpur. Till now Anandpur had used the steep hill terrain, on which it stood, as a natural fortification. Now the Guru built a strong wall around the town, and Anandpur became a fort in the real sense of the word. The forts of Keshgarh and Lohgarh were repaired and made stronger and stocked with food supplies and ammunition that could last many months. Smithies were set up and weapons of all kinds began to be manufactured by the hundreds.
He knew that the excitement that all these preparations generated would breed an eagerness for war and the desire to strike the first blow. So in all his sermons to his followers, he preached again and again the teachings of the Gurus from Guru Nanak down to Guru Tegh Bahadur. He explained to them that Sikhs were men of peace. Their task was to serve the sangat and to work for the uplift of the weak and the suffering. Fighting was not their primary occupation and so they must never seek war. All the battles that they had fought were battles that were not of their making, but had been forced upon them. They had fought these battles not to win lands or to bring fame to the Sikh community but in self-defence. They had fought to defend their right to live their lives according to their beliefs and be able to continue to serve humanity. If someone tried to take this right away from them they should be ready to fight again to the last drop of blood. Once they had gained victory, they must turn again to what was their real aim in life: to live a life of peace, doing useful deeds for their fellow men.
There used to be an annual fair at Rawalsar, near Mandi (now in Himachal Pradesh), which was very popular and which was attended by almost all the hill people. Most of the hill rajas, their queens, their families and courtiers also attended this fair. The Guru was invited to come to this fair by the rajas, and he felt that this would be the ideal chance to convince them that he did not wish to encroach on their land or to threaten their security. So he accepted this invitation and the Guru and his family and a band of faithful Sikhs reached Rawalsar, where they set up camp like the other rajas.
Many of the kings and queens were impressed by the Guru, and were convinced that he was a deeply religious man; and that he was honest and sincere when he said that they should all live in peace and friendship. Princess Padma, who belonged to the family of the Guru’s old friend Medini Prakash of Nahan, who was an ardent devotee of the Guru, had come to the fair with the express purpose of warning him of a conspiracy that was being planned against him. She had overheard a private conversation between Raja Ajmer Chand, who had come on a surprise visit to Nahan, and the Raja of Nahan.
Now at the fair in Rawalsar, Padma sought on opportunity to warn the Guru of the rajas’ perfidy.
Late one night, when everyone in the Sirmaur camp was asleep, Padma, disguised as a poor old woman, stole out of her camp, dodged the sentries and made her way to the Guru’s camp, and was able to warn the Guru against the conspiracy. The Guru thanked her and made sure that she got safely back to her camp.
The Guru returned to Anandpur as quickly as possible to prepare for the battle which was being thrust upon him.
While the rajas waited for the Mughal army to reach Anandpur, they fought two battles with the Guru. In the first, they depended on the two Mughal generals, Sayyad Beg and Alif Khan to lead them to victory. Sayyad Beg was so impressed by all that he saw and heard of the Guru, that he became a disciple Guru and fought on the Guru’s side. The combined forces of Alif Khan and the hill rajas were again defeated. In the second engagement, the hill rajas combined their armies and attacked the Guru at a time when the Guru had only eight hundred men with him. This time too the rajas’ combined forces were defeated.
Sayyad Beg looked forward to pitting his wits against a worthy enemy. He had heard about the Guru, heard about the Sikhs. Now he cast his mind back and pieces of information that he had gathered over the years, came back to his mind and from these, he built up a picture of his opponent. All the reports he had heard had said that the Guru was very handsome, strongly built, with clear bright eyes. They talked of his famous blue horse which ran with the speed of the wind and of the white hawk he always carried on his wrist. Then there were reports of his love for hunting and the tigers he had killed in single combat, with his sword. It was the picture of a brave fearless man, skilled in the use of weapons, with an almost limitless stamina.
He had also heard reports of the Guru’s kindness and compassion and of the help that he always gave to the weak and the oppressed. He had heard of his teaching and once he had even heard a beautiful hymn that the Sikhs sang and been moved by its beauty.
He had never heard of another man who was both a religious leader and a warrior. He was very keen to meet this man face to face, look into his eyes and try to understand how anyone could be both these things – a saint and a soldier – at once.
There was another reason why Sayyad Beg was looking forward to this expedition to the North. He had been away in the Deccan for so long that he had lost touch with all his family and friends. He missed them all but he missed most of all, his sister Nasiran. She was older than him and, as a child; he had got from her, not only the love and friendship of a sister, but also the care and protection of a mother. Then his sister had married the holy man Pir Badruddin, who was called Budhu Shah, and gone to live with him at Sadaura. They had met from time to time, but as the years went past, these meetings became rarer and rarer. Now, because of his involvement with the emperor’s wars in the Deccan, it had been many years since he had met her. He had heard reports that she was now a widow; that she had lost her sons in war and his heart had longed to be with her, but he was helpless.
He planned his march in so that his army rode close to his sister’s home. He gave his soldiers a much needed rest in the camp they had set up. Then handing over responsibility to his deputy Ramzan Khan, he went to visit his sister. He had hoped to give his sister a surprise but a large army like his, could not move in secret and news had already come to her of the Mughal army that was moving to Anandpur under the command of her brother Sayyad Beg. She was sure in her heart that he would find a way to come to see her before he marched into battle. This meeting was of the greatest importance to her. She had not met him for so many years and wanted to know everything that had happened to him during this time. She had missed her ‘little brother’, missed all the love that they had shared, and now she waited eagerly to be with him again. But this meeting was important to her for another reason. Like her late husband, the pir, Nasiran too had become a great admirer of the Guru and her life was filled with her love for the Guru and in following the Guru’s teachings. She was proud that her husband and her sons had given their lives for the Guru and, if the need ever arose, she knew that she too would gladly give up her own life for him. And here was her brother, leading a mighty Mughal army against her Guru. She knew that her brother was a loyal and devoted soldier of the Mughal emperor, and believed that his duty was to fight against the Guru and to defeat him. For this he would give his life. Yet, Nasiran also knew that, futile as it seemed, she must try everything to persuade her brother from embarking on this venture.
Sayyad Beg found his sister waiting for him and for a long moment they stood silently, just looking at each other, the feelings between them so strong that they needed no words.
Later she said, ‘I cannot give you either my prayers or my blessings. My prayers are with the Guru; and with every fibre of my body, every last particle of my soul, I pray for his success, it cannot be otherwise. If you love me, my brother, you will give up this venture. Tell your emperor that you cannot lead his army, he has generals enough and he will find someone else to lead his soldiers.’
‘If I do this, I can only be one of two things, a coward who is afraid of the Guru’s strength, or a traitor who will not obey his emperor’s commands. What would you have me be? Sayyad Beg asked his sister.
‘I don’t know. All that I know is that every arrow you aim at the Guru or at his men will be an arrow aimed at my heart. Every time you raise your sword, it will be raised to strike off my head,’ she replied. Then she got up quickly and went into her room, locking the door behind her. Then she unrolled her prayer-mat and prayed to the powers-that-be to step in and resolve the difficult situation that they had created.
Finally, the battle started. On one side was the combined army of the Mughals and the hill rajas and on the other side was the small Sikh army. ‘Remember, in the end it is not your weapons or the number of your soldiers that will lead you to victory – it is what is in your hearts,’ the Guru told his men.
The fighting raged furiously. Through the smoke and dust of battle Sayyad Khan at last saw the Guru. He was indeed a handsome figure. He rode on his famous blue horse (called the neela ghoda popularly) moving from group to group of his soldiers giving them courage and strength with his words. All around him there was a rain of arrows and musket shots and he rode through it all as if he did not notice it. Sayyad Beg’s heart filled with adoration for this remarkable man. He was everything that he had heard him to be and more. Then he checked his thoughts. He was his enemy and it was not right that he should think such thoughts of his enemy; it would weaken him. He thought of his duty, he thought of what the emperor had said to him at their last meeting. He raised his bow and aimed an arrow at the Guru. But as he aimed, Nasiran’s words came back to him. ‘Everytime you aim an arrow at the Guru, you will aim it at my heart,’ and when the arrow at last left the bow, it went wide off its mark. This troubled him. He could not remember when he had last missed his target. His fame as a marksman had spread far and wide, for in battle after battle he had never failed to hit his target. He was angry with his sister for making him so weak. He would show her that he was still a man, still a great marksman. He pulled out his musket and loading it, took careful aim at the Guru. He would get him now and the whole thing would be over and done with and he could return to his wife and children. But when he had steadied his musket and taken careful aim, he saw in the sights, not the Guru but his sister, Nasiran, and she smiled at him, almost as if she was mocking him. He fired and again his aim was wide off the mark and he knew, at last, that this was one battle he would not win.
The Guru rode out to him, and, when he was within ear-shot, he called out to him and said, ‘You are a great and famous general and I have all respect for you. You have shot at me twice but for some strange reason your weapons have not found their mark. You are famous for your marksmanship. What made you miss your target? Was the distance too great? I am before you now. Pull out your sword and perhaps your sword will be able to do what your bow and your musket have not been able to do.’
Sayyad Beg looked closely at the Guru. He saw the Guru smiling gently at him and knew, at last, why his sister followed this great man. The Guru waited and, along with him, all the soldiers who had heard the Guru’s challenge waited. But instead of drawing his sword, Sayyad dismounted from his horse, walked up to the Guru and put his cheek against the Guru’s stirrup. The Guru too dismounted and, drawing Sayyad into an embrace, gave him his blessings. Sayyad remounted to his horse. Without a word, without a backward glance, he rode away from the battlefield. Seeing this, his soldiers lost heart and also retreated from the battlefield.
Sayyad Beg gave up his leadership of the Mughal army and retired into the hills to meditate. It is said that when the Guru went to the Deccan, Sayyad Beg was amongst the band of followers who went with him.
In a little while, the allied army had regrouped. This time it was led by Wazir Khan, the Governor of Sirhind. Wazir Khan had already been defeated by the Guru in battle and was seeking revenge. Since he had lived long in Sirhind, which is close to Anandpur, he knew of the strengths and weaknesses of the forts which the Guru had built. The Governor of Lahore had also come out to join him with a very large force.
In the winter of 1705, the large allied army marched towards Anandpur. The Guru’s army came out to meet the advancing enemy and a heroic battle was fought, in which both sides suffered heavy losses. The Guru realized that the enemy’s number was so great that the Sikhs, in spite of all their courage, could not defeat them in open battle.
So he gave orders that the Sikhs should withdraw into Anandpur. Keshgarh was placed in the charge of his son Ajit Singh and Lohgarh was given to Nahar Singh and Sher Singh to defend. Seeing that the Sikh forces had withdrawn into Anandpur, the allied forces laid siege to the town. Wazir Khan had learnt from his earlier defeat. He decided to put a cordon of soldiers around Anandpur and keep anyone from either entering or leaving the town. He made no effort to break through the walls. Slowly he tightened the siege. Following Wazir Khan’s instructions, the hill rajas also realized that they should not think of an immediate victory. They should wait patiently. They must make sure that no entered or exited from Anandpur, and then victory would be theirs.
The days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months. The food stock ran so low that wheat began to be sold for one rupee per ser, and even this was not always available. At the beginning, bands of brave Sikh soldiers rode out at night and captured food and supplies from the enemy camp, which helped to ease the food shortage. Then the allied forces became more vigilant. Most of the Sikh soldiers who rode out were killed and the quantity of food they brought back was so small that it did not lessen the suffering of the people. The Guru decided to abandon these attempts.
The people of Anandpur suffered greatly, specially the children and the old people. The Guru was pained by this suffering but he knew it was a price that had to be paid if the Sikhs were to keep their freedom. People ate whatever they could get hold of – grass, the leaves of trees and even the bark of the trees after it had been ground into a powder. And yet the siege went on.
The allied soldiers began to get impatient. They had nothing to keep them occupied. They had come ready for battle and now they had been turned into little more than guards. It seemed to them that they would not be able to force the Guru out, even after years of waiting.
There was a small mountain stream, gurgling and singing as it made its way down the hills. This stream flowed through Anandpur bringing to the Sikhs, not only its very special music but also the life-giving force of its fresh, sweet water.
In fact, it was this mountain stream which was the main reason why Guru Tegh Bahadur had built his centre here. The people of Anandpur had got so used to its presence that they had come to take it for granted. Now, when the siege of Anandpur had lasted for many months, those inhabitants of the town who had been able to sleep that particular night, woke to a strange silence, the absence of a familiar sound. For a little while they could not say what it was. But their instinct told them that something was terribly wrong. At last they realized that they could no longer hear the music of their stream. The people poured out to the banks of the stream and what they saw, filled their hearts with dread. There was no longer any water in the stream, it had been diverted. And they knew, without asking, that this was a fresh blow struck by the enemy. It was in fact, the latest move that Wazir Khan had made in tightening his siege of the town.
The condition of the people became truly pitiable. First the animals began to die of hunger and thirst and the Guru lost his favourite horses and then the famous elephant Prasadi. Everywhere people lay sick or dying and yet the Guru refused to give up. Some of the Sikhs began openly to talk of giving up the fort and even went to Mata Gujri and begged her to plead with her son.
It was at this point in the siege that a messenger arrived at the gates of Anandpur. He carried the sign of peace and the Guru gave orders that he should be allowed to enter the fort. He was a special messenger from the emperor Aurangzeb, and had brought a message signed by the emperor himself. The emperor praised the Guru and the Sikhs for their great courage and bravery and went on to say that he knew of the difficulties being faced by the Sikhs of Anandpur. He knew that there must be great suffering inside the fort without food and water and invited the Guru to leave Anandpur. He gave a personal surety that the Guru, his family and his Sikhs would be given safe passage from the town. Some of the Sikh leaders felt that the emperor’s offer should be accepted. But the Guru was not yet ready to give up his beloved Anandpur, and the siege continued.
However, forty Sikhs formed a group and asked the Guru for permission to leave the fort. ‘You will have to give me in writing that you are giving up your Guru: that from hence forth you will have nothing more to do with me. Then you can go,’ the Guru said. This was a difficult thing for the Sikhs to do. Neither could they bear the hardships of living in Anandpur, nor could they leave their Guru, whom they loved so much. Then they thought that if they wrote this disclaimer, the Guru would let them go, and, with their departure, he might reconsider his decision not to leave the fort. So they signed a disclaimer and the Guru permitted them to leave. It made the Guru sad to see them go because it was the first sign of the weakening of the resolve of his people – but he was not one to hold them by force. When the Mughals saw the band of forty Sikhs riding out of the fort under the white flag of surrender, they recognized it as the beginning of the end. They knew that their long wait would soon be over. All doubts vanished and they renewed the siege with greater vigour.
For a little while longer, the brave band of people tried to hold on in the fort. But the misery of the people increased with every passing hour. People were maddened by their suffering and the number of the dead and dying increased tremendously. The Guru could not bear the scenes that he saw when he went out into the streets. At last, he gave in to the pleading of his mother and his advisers, and decided to leave Anandpur. Before he left, he destroyed and burnt what was left of the town so that the enemy would not be able to use it as a stronghold. Then, on the night of December 5 1705, the Guru left his beloved city. The first party was made up of his mother, his wives, his two young sons and all the women and children, the sick and the wounded. Before he mounted his horse to leave Anandpur for the last time, the Guru made one final visit to the little shrine that he had built in memory of his father. He stood there in silence, his eyes closed, and his lips moving in silent prayer. All the wonderful memories of his great father passed through his mind one by one He placed the shrine in the care of Gurbaksh, a member of the Udasi sect, and then rode out with the Panj Pyare, his two elder sons, and what remained of his forces.
As he rode away, the Guru reined in his horse and turned to look, one last time, at the town. He could see the tall towers looming as shadows against the sky. This town had been his home for thirty years and most of what he had achieved had been here in this town. He wondered if he would ever return, if that golden period would ever be given back to him and to his Sikhs. Then he turned and rode away, never to look back again.
The two groups of Sikhs joined up on the banks of the river Sarsa. While the Guru was thinking of the best way to cross the river, the Mughal forces broke their promise and attacked the retreating Sikhs from behind. Ude Chand, one of Panj Pyare, collected a brave band of soldiers and turned to hold the Mughal forces, to give a chance to the rest of the party to cross the river. There had been heavy winter rains up in the hills and the stream was swollen. The river waters roared in anger as they raged against the banks that contained them. On this winter night, the waters were cold. But the Guru and his group had no choice. The only other choice was to face the attacking army and certain death. So while Ude Chand held the enemy back, the Guru made an uncertain crossing. The mules carrying his precious books and manuscripts were all swept away by the strong current. The Guru’s party too was broken up as they came out of the stream on the opposite bank. The Guru’s wives, Mata Sundari and Mata Sahib Devan, found themselves separated from the Guru. There was great danger all around and they were persuaded by a faithful Sikh, to go to his house in Delhi, where they could live in safety till they were able to rejoin the Guru.
Mata Gujri and her two younger grandsons, Zorawar Singh, and Fateh Singh, were washed out of the waters further downstream and found themselves separated from the rest of the party. But Mata Gujri felt they had nothing to fear. They had with them some money hidden in Mata Gujri’s saddle bag and even more important, they had with them Gangu, a Brahmin cook who had worked long years in the Guru’s household. Gangu offered to take them to the safety of his village, an offer which they readily accepted.
The Guru, when he got across the river, found that he had only forty soldiers left with him. These included his two elder sons Ajit Singh and Jujhar Singh.
Though the survivors did not know of it at the time, many of the party had been swept away in the icy cold water. It was also much later that they learnt of Ude Singh’s death. He had died fighting, given up his life so that others would have a chance to live.
The Guru decided to take a fresh stand. He and his brave band of forty soldiers galloped as fast as they could to the little fortress of Chamkaur, near Ropar. They took up positions inside the stockade and, in the little time that was given to them, did everything they could to strengthen the defences. The attack was not long in coming. A detachment of the Mughal army had come in hot pursuit and this was joined by fresh troops, which had been sent out from Delhi. This force was also joined by the local Ranghars and Gujjars, who were looking for a chance to avenge their earlier defeat.
Now began the story of what must surely be one of the greatest acts of courage and sacrifice in the annals of history. Those inside the fort could see the enemy all around them, like the waves of an angry sea. Yet they remained unafraid. Their Guru had decided to make a stand and they would gladly give their lives to carry out his wishes.
The Guru and a few other brave warriors rained arrows on the enemy. Since they were shooting from a vantage point they were able to keep the enemy soldiers at bay. In the meantime, the other soldiers rode out, one small band at a time, and engaged the enemy in close-quarter battles. Death was certain. But it was the only way that they could inflict the greatest number of losses on the enemy forces. The enemy realized that the defenders were very few in numbers and there was no hope of any reinforcements coming to their help and was content not to attack the little fort. When the second brave band of soldiers had been killed, Ajit Singh and Jujhar Singh, the Guru’s elder sons, asked for permission to ride out and face the enemy. Ajit was seventeen years old at the time and Jujhar, only fourteen. The Guru gave his permission and blessed them both. With them was Alam Singh, who had made a name for himself as a brave warrior. From the upper storey of the fortress, the Guru watched his sons engage the enemy soldiers and fight with the skill of experienced soldiers, determined that their deeds should make their father proud of them. They killed many enemy soldiers before they themselves were killed. The Guru, who had remained so calm and strong when he heard of his father’s death, remained calm and strong when he saw his sons being killed too. He said a short prayer for them, and then turned again to the defence of the fortress.
The Mughal soldiers now realized that they were paying a very heavy price in terms of loss of life and decided to storm the little fortress. One group of Mughal soldiers, led by Nahar Khan, tried to climb up the wall of the fort but he was shot down by an arrow and the others fell back.
The battle was waged through the day without any sign of letting up till the Guru’s force was reduced to five. Among those who died were Mukham Singh and Himmat Singh, two of the Panj Pyare.
The five surviving Sikhs decided that the Guru’s life must be saved at all costs. The panth was passing through a difficult phase, and only the Guru could give it the leadership that was needed for its survival. They passed a resolution, a Gurmata, to say that the Guru must leave Chamkaur and seek refuge in a place of safety. The Guru had, at the birth of the Khalsa, declared that the word of five faithful Sikhs was the word of the Guru. Thus, much against his will, the Guru had to bow to the resolution.
Two Sikhs, Sant Singh and Sangat Singh, rode out to fight the enemy. Sant Singh had dressed up in the Guru’s clothes and even wore the Guru’s kalgi in his turban. The enemy soldiers were taken in by this deception and all attention was focused on Sant Singh. Taking advantage of this situation, the Guru, accompanied by Man Singh and the two surviving members of the Panj Pyare – Daya Singh and Dharam Singh – slipped out of Chamkaur.
The Guru and his followers tried to cover as much distance as they could and get as far away from Chamkaur as possible. Finally, tired and footsore, they came to the forest of Machiwara between Ropar and Ludhiana. Here they rested for a while. It is said that it was here that the Guru composed one of the few poems that he wrote in Punjabi, the beautiful, hymn – Mitar pyare noo haal muridan da kahna.
One of the Guru’s Sikhs saw a detachment of Mughal soldiers camped outside the forest and realized that it was not safe for the Guru to remain in the forest any longer. They found refuge in the house of a Sikh named Gulaba. By now the Mughal soldiers had realized their mistake and knew that Sant Singh, whom they had killed, was not the Guru. They also knew that the Guru had escaped, and began to search for him. Reports of this search were brought to Gulaba, but he felt that the Guru was quite safe in his house and no one would find him there. The Guru, however, did not want to stay in Gulaba’s house any longer as he did not want to endanger Gulaba’s life.
By a happy coincidence, the Guru was visited by the Pathans, Ghani Khan and Nabi Khan. They were both horse-traders, who had often brought horses for Guru Gobind Singh in Anandpur, and had learnt to respect him and love him. Now they had heard that the Mughal forces were chasing the Guru and he was hiding somewhere near the forest of Machiwara and they came to look for him and to offer him their services. The Guru was happy to see his old friends again and their arrival and their offer of help, in these trying conditions, must have brought him no small measure of comfort.
The two Pathans found Mughal soldiers everywhere. They realized that in spite of the great love that the local people had for the Guru and their intense desire to protect him; it was only a matter of time before his whereabouts were discovered by the enemy. It was imperative to move the Guru to a safer place as quickly as possible. But to do this they would have to break through the cordon of enemy soldiers, and the only way this could be done was to disguise the Guru. But when they sought to buy the means with which they could affect this disguise, they found that the Mughal soldiers checked each purchase that was made and questioned everything that aroused the slightest suspicion. If, while making their purchase, they aroused the soldiers’ suspicion, their plan would fail even before they had begun to put it into operation. They would have to try and get what they needed from some of the Guru’s well-wishers.
When they were returning to Gulaba’s house, they glanced through the open door of the neighbour’s house and saw a middle-aged woman sitting at a loom, weaving a piece of fine cotton cloth. The two Pathans looked at each other and smiled: They had found what they were looking for. They stopped at the door and greeted the woman and found out that she was a follower of the Guru. When they told her of the grave danger that the Guru was in, and how they could not find any means to disguise him and bring him out of the forest, she readily offered the cloth she was weaving for the disguise.’
Her devotion to her Guru, her awareness of the danger he was in, gave her mind a sharpness that she had never before possessed. She gave the Pathans some food to eat, as she wove her plans and, almost immediately after the meal, put them into action. The only dye that was available was a deep blue dye – the blue that is the honoured colour of most Muslim saints. So the dye was mixed in an earthen pot, the cloth was dyed, dried and then cut and stitched into a robe.
So it was that the Guru was dressed in the robes of a saint, put into a palanquin and carried by the palanquin bearers – his three faithful Sikhs, and Ghani Khan, out of Gulaba’s village. The doors of the palanquin had been veiled by thick curtains to guard them against curious eyes. Whenever they were stopped and asked as to who was in the palanquin, the palanquin bearers would reply ‘Uch da pir’ – or the holy man from Uch. Uch, thirty-eight miles from Bahawalpur, was famous for its many Muslim saints or pirs. The moment the Muslims heard the name, they fell on their knees and asked for the Pir’s blessings.
The small group stopped for a few days in the village of Hehar. Kirpal Das, the head of the Udasis, who had fought so bravely for the Guru in the battle of Bhangani, lived here. He welcomed the Guru and his companions. The Guru said goodbye to his two Pathan friends, and in recognition of their courage and all the difficulties they had faced to help him, he gave them a certificate in which he praised them and thanked them for all that they had done for him even at the risk to their own lives. This certificate or hukamnama is still in the custody of the descendants of the Pathans. Sikhs, even today, visit the Pathans’ descendants to get a glimpse of this hukamnama and express their gratitude to members of the family which helped their Guru when he needed help the most.
After a few days, the Guru noticed that Kirpal Das was behaving in a strange way. It did not take him long to understand what was on the mahant’s mind. He realized that this was not the Kirpal Das he had once known. Now Kirpal Das was the head of a rich dera and was used to a luxurious life. He was worried about the repercussions if the Mughal authorities discovered that he had given shelter to their enemy. To spare the mahant any possible trouble, the Guru decided to move on. He came, at last, to Jatpura where he was received by Rai Kalha, the Muslim chief. Rai Kalha welcomed him to his home and treated him with great respect and affection. The Guru was tired after all the travelling, but his spirit was still strong and full of hope. This strength remained even after he heard the news of the terrible death that his two younger sons had suffered.
Mata Gujri and her two younger grandsons, Zorawar, aged nine, and Fateh Singh, aged seven, had been brought by the cook, Gangu, to his village in Sahar. To begin with, he looked after them well. Then he noticed that there were three things that Mata Gujri never let out of her sight, her two grandsons and her saddle bag. He was sure that the saddle bag contained something extremely valuable. One night, while Mata Gujri and her grandsons were asleep, Gangu came quietly into the room and stole the saddle bag. He was thrilled to see that the bag contained a large quantity of gold coins. In the morning Mata Gujri saw that her bag was missing. It contained all the money that she had and, with it gone, she would now have to depend on the charity of others.
She questioned Gangu about the missing saddle bag. On being questioned, Gangu left the room and went down the street shouting at the top of his voice.
‘Look at these people from the Guru’s household. I did everything in my power to help his mother and his two young sons and see what I get in return: I am accused of stealing their gold,’ he said. In this way the villagers learnt that Gangu’s guests were the Guru’s mother and his two young sons and this news was carried to the village headman. The headman knew that he would get a generous reward if he brought this news to the officials. Mata Gujri and her two grandsons were apprehended and brought before Wazir Khan, the Governor of Sirhind, who locked them up in a tower in the fort of Sirhind. It is said that Nawaz Sher Mohammad Khan, the Nawab of Malerkotla, appealed to Wazir Khan to spare the young lives.
It seems that for a while, Wazir Khan was inclined to listen to the Nawab’s advice. But then another nobleman intervened and said, ‘Do not forget they are Gobind Singh’s sons. When they grow up they will be like their father and will cause much trouble for us. It is far better to kill them now.’
Wazir Khan ordered that the two boys be brought before him. When the messenger came to fetch them, Mata Gujri feared the worst. She held them close to her heart and would not let them go. Zorawar, the elder of the two, felt his grandmother’s frail thin body trembling with fear as she held him close. He kissed her and said, ‘Do not be afraid, Mataji. The worst that they can do to us is to put us to death.’ For a moment it was as if her young Gobind was speaking to her. She was proud that the little boys had already learnt to be so much like their father. She wiped the tears from her eyes, blessed her grandsons and let them go.
The two young boys entered the governor’s presence without a sign of fear in their bearing or on their faces.
Suchanand, one of Wazir Khan’s ministers, asked them, ‘Have you no manners? You have come into the great Subedar’s presence and you do not bow before him.’
‘We have been taught, from an early age, to bow only before God and before the Guru,’ Zorawar answered in a quiet but firm voice.
Wazir Khan was hoping to work out a compromise. If he could convert the boys to Islam he would not have to put them to death and he would not be guilty of violating the tenets of humanity and of Islam. If he was able to persuade them to convert to Islam he knew that he would also win the unqualified approval of the emperor.
‘Your courage and your confidence have won the admiration and praise of all. There can be no doubt that you will grow up to be fine young men and that a great future awaits you, first here with me in Sirhind and later in the emperor’s court. All you have to do to ensure this future is to accept Islam and become Muslims,’ said Wazir Khan.
The two boys looked at each other. Then Zorawar turned back to Wazir Khan.
His voice was louder now and it was clear that he was attempting to control his temper. ‘We are the grandsons of Guru Tegh Bahadur who gave up his life to protect the right of the Kashmiri pundits to practice their faith. The blood of Guru Arjan Dev, Guru Hargobind and Guru Gobind Singh runs in our veins. Like our grandfather, we will give up our lives to protect the right to practice our faith,’ he said. Wazir Khan ordered that the boys be taken back to the fort. Over the next few days, he tried every trick he could think of to persuade the boys to change their religion. He offered them all kinds of rewards and inducements, but, young as they were, the boys remained implacable in their resolve.
Wazir Khan now knew that the boys would not change their minds. The qazi suggested that the boys be bricked up alive. When the wall reached their chests, Wazir Khan asked the masons to stop, and said to the boys. There is still time. Even now, if you agree to become Muslims your lives will be spared.’ The boys looked at one another again and smiled. Then they looked back at Wazir Khan and shook their heads in the negative. Wazir Khan then signalled to the masons to complete their work and the boys were dead. This terrible crime was committed on 27 December 1704. Part of this wall still stands in the Gurudwara at Fatehgarh Sahib. Three days later, Mata Gujri died of a broken heart.
News of this tragedy was brought to Guru Gobind Singh while he was at Jatpura. The Guru’s cup of grief was now full to the brim, but he took this tragic happening in his stride, and remained calm and strong. He was always a source of strength to his followers and inspired them to remain calm and brave and not to waver in their faith.