In a country that is home to millions of people, who speak a hundred different languages and believe in a dozen religions and faiths, a man preached about one humanity and taught the language of love.
Born in Talwandi village (now in Pakistan) in 1469, to a hard-working accountant and a simple housewife, Naanak was, from his childhood, a rather unusual child. Acutely inquisitive, he demanded answers to the most complex philosophical questions. When he was old enough, the child was sent to the village schoolmaster to be taught Hindi, Persian, Arabic and mathematics. Gifted with a sharp mind, he learnt his lessons quickly – and questioned his teachers constantly.
Naanak’s uncommon personality was reflected in other ways also. After school every day, when it was time for him to graze the cattle, he would lose himself in deep meditation for hours together, while the cattle strayed far away. When his persistent questions did not meet with satisfactory answers, he would engage in profound discussions with Hindu and Muslim holy men who happened to be passing through the village.
When Naanak turned 13, his father arranged for him to be invested with the sacred thread, as is the custom among Hindus. However, the boy had outgrown none of his childhood precocity, and when the unsuspecting priest approached him, thread in hand, Naanak burst out with:
Let Mercy be the cotton, Contentment the thread, Continence the knot and Truth the twist.
O priest! If you have such a thread, do give it to me.
It’ll not wear out, nor get soiled, nor burnt, nor lost.
That was effectively the end of the ceremony.
Realising that their son was growing unmanageable, Naanak’s parents decided to marry him off, hoping that a householder’s responsibilities would surely rein him in. Interestingly, Naanak made no objection, and even settled down happily with his gentle wife Sulakhani.
Within a few years, he had two sons, Sri Chand and Lakshmi Chand. With a family to support, he soon took up a job as an accountant in charge of the stores of Daulat Khan Lodi, the Muslim governor of Sultanpur. Naanak worked hard during the day, and in the evenings, regaled his family and friends with melodious songs, sung to the accompaniment of the rabab (a string instrument) played by his childhood friend Mardana.
Naanak was now a happy family man, a responsible householder, a good husband and a fond father. All seemed peaceful and perfect. However, this was not to last long. His destiny took a strange turn one day, when he went to the river to bathe – something he had done every day for thirty years. But this morning was different. Naanak waded in to the river, immersed himself completely – and did not come out. Mardana called out to him, but there was no reply. Finally, a tearful Mardana broke to the shocked village the news that Naanak had drowned.
After mourning Naanak’s strange and untimely death, the village sorrowfully went back to its mundane routine. It is said that after three days, Naanak appeared suddenly – emerging from the river exactly at the same spot as he had disappeared. The awe-struck village soon realised that he was not the same man. There was a radiance on his face, a light in his eyes. And when he opened his lips, he said:
There is but One God, His name is Truth, He is the Creator, He fears none, He is without hate, He never dies, He is beyond the cycle of birth and death, He is self-illuminated, and He is realised by the kindness of the True Guru.
From that point onward, Naanak began – literally and otherwise – a new life. He gave up his job, distributed his money and belongings among the poor and set out on a journey to spread God’s message. Accompanied by his loyal friend Mardana, he travelled on foot, covering the length and breadth of the country and the vast sub-continent. The singing Hindu youth and his rabab-playing Muslim companion must have made a strangely appealing pair as they urged people to love one another and the one God who has created us all.
Thus Naanak founded a new religion – a religion of simplicity, unity and amity. He preached the unity of all mankind, and above all, the oneness of God, whose children all human beings are. Incidentally, Sikhism, the religion which Naanak founded, means the religion of those who accept a teaching – the Hindi word for ‘teaching’ being Seekh. So all those who accepted Nanak’s teachings became Sikhs. And the teaching was the simplest possible – love all, be kind to the poor and praise God – the One Maker.
Guru Naanak established the precedent for what became the ‘langar’, the “community meal,” specifically to mark his rejection of the caste system. Everyone coming to the ‘langar’ must sit and eat together as equals, even if this might violate caste rules. The levelling experience of eating a common meal became symbolic of the Sikh ethos and essential to the life of the Sikh community. Those who became part of the Sikh Panth were expected to give up social inequality.
Born as a simple village boy, Guru Naanak started life as a householder, not an ascetic or a yogi. Thus, the path of Sikhism is not “other-worldly,” but fully engaged in the world. Its dominant note is not renunciation – but simple living, service, honest work, charity, and hospitality.
BY Sharika Muthu
The author is a free-lance writer and translator based in Gurugram (Haryana).