Dear Guru Gobind Singh Ji,
My elder sister shared a story that feels like a whisper from another life, a divine thread connecting us all. She told me that my mother journeyed to Nanded with a prayer in her heart—a prayer to ask for my brother and me in her family. At the time, I didn’t understand the magnitude of her devotion. But now, at the age of 56, when I set foot in Nanded for the first time, I felt your eternal presence guiding me there. You once said every Sikh should visit this sacred place before the age of 60 - "I wait here for every Sikh up to his age for Sixty Years". How fortunate am I that you called me, even if I arrived late in life.
I miss my mother deeply, but I find solace knowing she rests in your embrace. And my father—his memory is an ache and a gift. He was the one who first showed me your path. I wish I could go back in time, to be kinder to him, to honor him the way he deserved. It's been thirteen years since he left me, and with every passing day, I love him more. His teachings, once lessons I took for granted, now feel like sacred keys that opened the door to meet you today. If only I had known then what I know now—how I would have cherished him.
Guru Sahib, you are not gone. Your eternal promise breathes through the winds, echoes in the silence, and resides in every soul that calls out to you. In the sacred presence of Baba Anmol Singh Ji, I glimpsed your timeless grace—a divine connection to the lineage of your beloved steed. The people of Nanded whisper that no one can mount Baba Anmol Singh Ji, yet on Khalsa Day, the horse steps forward as if summoned by your spirit, leading the procession with a dignity that transcends mortal understanding.
Under the blazing sun, as the horse glistens with sweat, the Sangat gathers with devotion, cooling it with their tender hands and heartfelt prayers. In that moment, it feels as if you are riding once again, Guru Sahib, alive in the unwavering faith of your people, fulfilling the promise you etched into eternity. When I stood before Baba Anmol Singh Ji, meeting its eyes was not possible; the depth of its gaze was a mirror to your infinite presence. I could only bow my head in reverence, surrendering to the overwhelming truth that you are here, always.
In that moment, I felt your spirit alive, not just in the stories or the scriptures, but in the living, breathing now. You are eternal, Guru Sahib, and through you, I find the threads of love, devotion, and grace woven into every part of my life. My heart bows to you, for you are the anchor of my soul.
The world we dwell in, Guru Sahib, is a relentless and treacherous realm for us mere mortals. We, in our ignorance, seek fleeting moments of joy, while your boundless grace and majesty surpass the very limits of our comprehension. Your friendship, Guru Sahib, is the essence of my being, the light that illuminates the dark corridors of my soul. In your embrace, I find the strength to carry on.
The day fades, and the night falls, yet you remain, steadfast and eternal, in every pathway and hidden corner of my journey. Guru Sahib, I beg of you, never leave me. Without your presence, this harsh world would be unbearable—a barren expanse devoid of meaning. My mundane obligations whisper doubts, pulling me in every direction, yet I find solace in the profound blessing of having encountered you.
From Patna Sahib to Anandpur Sahib, through the valor of Chamkaur, the sacrifice at Sirhind, and the sanctity of Nanded, your love transcends time and space. You are the very embodiment of divine compassion. I yearn to keep you in my thoughts every waking moment, to hold your image as a permanent imprint upon my soul. For what remains of me, Guru Sahib, is but a vessel longing for your eternal presence. You are my everything.
How can one fathom the depth of your sacrifice, your humility, your infinite grace? You gave everything—your father, your beloved sons, your worldly comforts—and yet, you refused to be remembered. You declared that anyone who enshrined your memory would bring ruin to their lineage. And yet, Maharaja Ranjit Singh Ji defied this, building Gurdwaras in your honor, so we, in this fleeting age, might catch a glimpse of your eternal presence.
You turned away from the throne of a ruler, even when it was within your grasp. You watched your family walk into the fire of martyrdom for the sake of justice and truth. And still, you stood in quiet strength, whispering to the winds, "I am fine." How can a soul comprehend such magnanimity? How can a heart grasp the enormity of your humility, that you sought no monuments, no recognition? Why, Guru Sahib, did you wish to fade into the pages of eternity, nameless, selfless?
Your Sikh is taught to serve relentlessly, to stand firm and tall in the face of adversity, asking for nothing but the well-being of all—#TeraBhanaSarbatDaBhala. Your words echo through the ages, reminding us to empty ourselves of ego, to shed the illusion of material possessions, to dissolve into the divine will. But how, Guru Sahib? How do we emulate your boundless spirit? How do we live as you did, untouched by the world's expectations, serving in silence, unremembered?
Bless me, Guru Sahib. Bless me with the strength to walk this path. My mother prayed to you for my birth, and here I am, yearning to learn from your life, to absorb the essence of your teachings. I long to live without pride, without the burden of acknowledgment, and to serve with the purity of intention. If I could one day catch even the smallest glimpse of your radiance, it would be the greatest blessing of my life. There would be no joy greater than that moment, no desire left in my heart.
But I am foolish, Guru Sahib. I cannot understand the vastness of your compassion, the unshakable resolve of your spirit. I stand here, small and unworthy, hoping you will bestow a fragment of your wisdom, a drop of your grace. Your life touches my soul in ways I cannot put into words.
And so, I continue my search… until we meet.
Waheguru Ji.
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