There is a really common saying along the lines of, “I do not do anything. Everything is done by Waheguru”. Here is how works and how its misuse is stopped:

Thief : Sir, May I ask you a question?

Judge : Yes, go on.

Thief : Do you believe in Waheguru, Almighty Judge, and that he does everything?

Judge : Yes, I do.

Thief : Then it is wrong for you to send me to jail when everything, you know, is done by Waheguru. He made me commit theft according to His will.

Judge : You are sentenced for two years. Do not blame me for increasing your sentence. This is the will of Waheguru. You know I cannot do anything, everything is done by Waheguru.

Waheguru has given different people, different intellect, different environment, and different physical, mental, moral, and social capabilities. But we cannot ignore the knowledge of good or bad when living this life. An ignorant person can be saved from doing wrong acts. But can that person be saved who knowingly commits sins?

Pappi Kaur and her family had rushed out for safety when they saw the rioters closing in. But the police made them return home. Then she saw her father being dragged out of their home, tortured and burned to death by men who claimed to be avenging the killing of Indira Gandhi. She saw the murderers dilly-dally with her uncle, then burn him too. She was six years old. As they rebuild their lives in the neglected and almost forgotten colony for widows of the 1984 riots, Pappi, 25, cannot help feeling bitter about the administration that let them down twice, “I was very young in 1984. But how can I forget the day on which all the men of my family were ruthlessly murdered?”

At the time, we were staying in Chilla village, near Trilokpuri in east Delhi. My father came back early from work, looking very tense, and told us about the riots in the city, that people were killing Sikhs all over Delhi. But it was not as if he, or the neighbourhood, felt that everything around us would change in the next few hours.

We went up to the terrace and saw that our neighbourhood gurdwara had been set on fire. That was when we felt the first jolt of panic. The rioting was no longer ‘in the city’. It was coming nearer home.

We decided to go to the gurdwara to protect it as best as we could. There was my father, his younger brother, my mother and grandmother and we, the children.

On our way, we saw hordes of murderous-looking people and fierce fighting. The police stopped us and told us to return home.

We did, but that was a mistake. At home, we were sitting ducks. A mob broke down the wooden door of our house, dragged out all the menfolk one by one, beat them up and then set them on fire.

My father was first. We couldn’t see what happened, because they took him out of the house. Then it was his younger brother. He had shorn his hair. At first, they were willing to let him go. But then they changed their mind, dragged him out again, beat him up and set him on fire as well. The attackers did not even spare my poor old grandmother. They broke her arm and abused her. They told her that she should leave the neighbourhood immediately or they would kill all the children. I can still see their vicious faces. They were shouting, “Tune hamaari maa ko maara hai. Hum tujhe maarenge! You killed our mother (Indira Gandhi), we will kill you!”

They put burning tyres around the necks of the Sikhs they were torturing before the slaughter, and shouted, “Dekho sardaar kaise naach rahe hain! Look how the Sikhs are dancing!”

My grandmother and mother ran away with the children. We hid in a wilderness, away from the residential colonies. For three days and nights, we stayed in hiding. On the fourth day, the army came in and took over from the police. That was the first time we felt safe.

Later, we were informed that we would be resettled and awarded compensation. It is true that we were given a one-time compensation. Widows were given jobs, but not near their homes. Their places of work were scattered all over Delhi. And they have to raise their families on the pittance they make in these ‘Class IV’ jobs. There is an area here in Tilak Vihar called the Widows’ Colony. It’s only for the widows of the 1984 riots. That’s where we were shunted. There was no other attempt to reach out to us in any way. Not one leader, from any community or political party, ever comes this way.

Look over the following questions. Think about how you are being treated and how you treat your partner. Remember, when one person scares, hurts or continually puts down the other person, it’s abuse.

Does your partner…
____ Embarrass or make fun of you in front of your friends or family?
____ Put down your accomplishments or goals?
____ Make you feel like you are unable to make decisions?
____ Use intimidation or threats to gain compliance?
____ Tell you that you are nothing without them?
____ Treat you roughly – grab, push, pinch, shove or hit you?
____ Call you several times a night or show up to make sure you are where you said you would be?
____ Use drugs or alcohol as an excuse for saying hurtful things or abusing you?
____ Blame you for how they feel or act?
____ Pressure you sexually for things you aren’t ready for?
____ Make you feel like there “is no way out” of the relationship?
____ Prevent you from doing things you want—like spending time with your friends or family?
____Try to keep you from leaving after a fight or leave you somewhere after a fight to “teach you a lesson”?

Do you…
____ Sometimes feel scared of how your partner will act?
____ Constantly make excuses to other people for your partner’s behavior?
____ Believe that you can help your partner change if only you changed something about yourself?
____ Try not to do anything that would cause conflict or make your partner angry?
____ Always do what your partner wants you to do instead of what you want?
____Stay with your partner because you are afraid of what your partner would do if you broke-up?
If any of these are happening in your relationship on a consistent basis, talk to someone. Without some help, the abuse will continue.

Violence against Women: A Lifetime Spiral: From The Asian & Pacific Islander Institute on Domestic Violence
http://www.apiahf.org/apidvinstitute/default.htm

Domestic violence is just one amongst many forms of violence against women. From the aborting of female fetuses to intimate homicide, girls and women can encounter numerous oppressions during infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and as elders. Some of these are confined to one stage in the lifecycle, some continue into subsequent stages. Violence against women is more than physical, sexual, economic and emotional abuse; it is also about living in a climate of fear, misery, loss, mistrust, humiliation and despair. The lives of abused Asian and Pacific Islander women are shadowed by the cultural burdens of shame and devaluation. These abuses are experienced in the context of additional oppressions based on race, ethnicity, age, sexual orientation, gender identity, type of labor being performed, level of education, class position, disability, or immigration/refugee status.

Cycle of Violence From Turning Point Services (www.turningpoint.org)

The Cycle of Violence includes 3 stages: The Tension Building Stage, The Violent Episode, and The Absence of Violence Stage. Domestic violence increases in frequency and severity. It is never an isolated incident or a one-time occurrence. If you think you are being abused, take a stand.

South Asian Women’s Groups in Vancouver with Their Contact Information

MOSAIC – Stopping the Violence Counselling Services for Women Who Speak English, Punjabi and/or Hindi.
Contact: 604-254-9626
Fax: 604-254-3932
Address: 1720 Grant Street, Vancouver, B.C. V5L 2Y7
South Asian Women’s Center – South Asian Women’s Center provides resources and referrals, builds communication and solidarity between concerned individuals and groups.
Contact: 604-325-6637
E-mail: sawc@asia.com
Address: 8163 Main Street, Vancouver, B.C. V5X 3L2
Kaurs United International – A Sikh women’s group that attempts to unite, uplift, and empower women around the world through various events.
Contact: 604-339-6716
E-mail: kaursunited@gurmatstudies.com
www.kaursunited.org
Punjabi Women’s Association – Contact: 604-581-6941
Burnaby Multicultural Society – Contact: 604 299-4808
Vancouver Rape Relief and Women’s Centre – Operates a crisis line and a safe transition house for women who do not have safe shelter, free from attack or fear.
Crisis Line: 604-872-8212
TTY: 604-877-0958 (9AM to 9PM)
E-mail: info@rapereliefshelter.bc.ca
www.rapereliefshelter.bc.ca/
B.C. Coalition of Women’s Centres – Seeking to end violence, poverty, and abuse by promoting change and support through B.C.’s women’s centres.
E-mail: bcwomen@telus.net
The Save our Daughters Coalition – The Save our Daughters Coalition consists of men and women who represent women serving agencies, immigrant serving agencies, political leaders, union leaders, government agencies, the business community, students and concerned citizens.
www.saveourdaughters.ca
Contact: 778-898-SODC (7632)
List of Various Women’s Centres Across B.C. -
http://www3.telus.net/bcwomen/BCCWC_information.html#contact

“The Secret is this:
I have learned there is little I can do
in my life that will make me truly happy.
I must depend on Waheguru to make
me happy and to meet my needs.
When a need arises in my life,
I have to trust Waheguru to supply
according to HIS riches.
I have learned most of the time
I don’t need half of what I think I do.
He has never let me down.
Since I learned that ‘Secret’, I am happy.”

The questioner’s first thought was,
“That’s too simple!”
But upon reflecting over her own life
she recalled how she thought a bigger house
would make her happy, but it didn’t!
She thought a better paying job
would make her happy, but it hadn’t.
When did she realize her greatest happiness?
Sitting on the floor with her grandchildren,
playing games, eating pizza or reading a story,
a simple gift from Waheguru.
Now you know it too!
We can’t depend on people to make us happy.
Only Waheguru in His infinite wisdom can do that.
Trust Waheguru!

And now I pass the Secret on to you!
So once you get it, what will you do?
YOU have to tell someone the Secret, too!
That Waheguru in His wisdom will take care of YOU!
But it’s not really a secret…
We just have to believe it and do it…
Really trust Waheguru!
In everything you do, put Waheguru first, and Waheguru will direct
you and crown your effort with success.

Submitted by: Ranjit Kaur

In Sukhmani, Guru Arjun writes “Aath pahaar” – 24 hours a day, just keep the prayer going. In these moments, when the plight of humanity looks so bleak – there is tremendous solace in prayer. The Shabad has a power – a power that we cannot understand, command or control – but a power, nonetheless, to bring what is out of balance back into harmony.

That night, the prayer that wanted to be prayed was Chandi di Vaar written by Guru Gobind Singh about the goddess Durga and her war against the demons who had taken over Heaven. When destruction is so prevalent, so undeniable, so unavoidable – what can we pray for? That the Creator is with those who have to face their death – a Loving Presence guiding them through the experience. That whatever comes of this disaster, in the end, may it help clear the karma of the planet so that what is out of balance may come back into balance. Death we all have to face one day, and not one of knows the hour or the circumstances of it. But Durga, with her many arms and many weapons can remind us to pray for a useful death, a purposeful death, a death that serves to bring the Heavens and the earth into harmony. There are good ways to die.

I had never prayed the Chandi Di Vaar before that night and thoughts of Durga had been with me ever since. So, in the Cosmic Synchronicity of things, during lunch, my friend was telling me about a statue of Durga that she had seen in Colorado on a recent trip, and a gorgeous statue of Kali that was for sale on e-bay.

I love to collect statues of spiritual icons from every religion. In my home, there’s a wood carving of the three-faced goddess from Celtic mythology, a small kachina of the White Buffalo Calf Woman, and a black iron Buddha. Durga is a new figure for me – and I wished briefly I had the money to find and purchase a statue of her – but the joys of being a new homeowner require my financial resources to go elsewhere at the moment.

Still, these figures and their stories hold such lessons for us.

I asked my friend what she knew about Durga. She said she didn’t know much, but I listened enraptured as she shared the story of how Durga was created fom the collected energy of many gods, how she was considered a manifestation of Parvati, Shiva’s wife. The part of the story that really struck home, somehow, in a very personal way, was when she told me that Kali was born from Durga’s Third Eye. And how, after the demons were vanquished, Kali couldn’t be controlled. She just continued stomping around, destroying everything in her wake. To bring her back to her senses, Shiva laid down in her path and Kali began to stomp and storm on top of him. But then she realized that she was trying to destroy her own Beloved Husband and that shocked her. Shocked her into seeing how terribly she was behaving. Shocked her into realizing she needed to stop. Love pulled her back to her senses.

When life gets out of balance, there’s a tremendous amount of pain, and sometimes in the fight to make it right, women especially can loose sight of when to stop. I see that in myself – the noble Durga fighting to restore the balance. And the even more powerful but less controllable Kali – who destroys just to destroy because it’s what feels safe, what feels right – until she hurts someone she loves without meaning it, and that brings her back to her senses.

What does all of this have to do with Pakistan and millions facing death? Maybe it’s a reminder that the destructive force, too, can become out of balance and we have to have have that wisdom to know – when to allow destruction her free reign, and when to temper that power, to call it back with love. We are a spiritual warrior people and it is a tremendous responsibility to study and understand the wisdom of destruction. I, myself, know very little and am grateful to see – for the first time in my life – how much I have to learn.

Wahe Guru Ji Ka Khalsa, Wahe Guru Ji Ki Fateh.
All love in the Divine,
Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa

Submitted by: Hardev Kaur
Author: Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa

2. When I was growing up, my persevering mother gave her spare time to go fishing in a river near our house, she hoped that from the fish she caught, she could gave me a little bit of nutritious food for my growth. After fishing, she would cook some fresh fish soup, which raised my appetite. While I was eating the soup, mother would sit beside me and eat the rest of the fish, which was still on the bone of the fish I had eaten. My heart was touched when I saw that. I then used my chopstick and gave the other fish to her. But she immediately refused and said “Eat this fish, son. I don’t really like fish.” That was Mother’s Second Lie.

3. Then, when I was in Junior High School…… to fund my studies, mother went to an economic enterprise to bring some used-match boxes that would need to be stuck together. It gave her some money to cover our needs. As the winter came, I woke up from my sleep and looked at my mother who was still awake, supported by a little candlelight and with perseverance she would continue the work of sticking some used-match boxes. I said, “Mother, go to sleep, it’s late, tomorrow morning you still have to go to work.” Mother smiled and said “Go to sleep, dear. I’m not tired.” That was Mother’s Third Lie.

4. The final term arrived…….mother asked for leave from work in order to accompany me. While the sun was starting to shine strongly, my persevering mother waited for me under the heat for several hours. As the bell rang, which indicated that the final exam had finished, mother immediately welcomed me and poured me a cup of tea that she had brought in a flask. Seeing my mother covered with perspiration, I at once gave her my cup and asked her to drink too. Mother said “Drink, son. I’m not thirsty ! ” That was Mother’s Fourth Lie.

5. After the death of my father due to illness, my poor mother had to play her role as a single parent. She had to fund our needs alone. Our family’s life was more complicated. No days without suffering. Our family’s condition was getting worse, a kind uncle who lived near our house assisted now and then. Our neighbours, often advised my mother to marry again. But mother was stubborn and didn’t take their advice; she said “I don’t need love.” That was Mother’s Fifth Lie.

6. After I had finished my studies and got a job, it was the time for my old mother to retire. But she didn’t want to; she would go to the marketplace every morning, just to sell some vegetables to fulfill her needs. I, who worked in another city, often sent her some money to help her, in fulfilling her needs, but she would not accept the money. At times, she even sent the money back to me. She said “I have enough money.” That was Mother’s Sixth Lie.

7. After graduating with a Bachelors Degree, I then continued to do a Masters Degree. It was funded by a company through a scholarship program, from a famous University in America. I finally worked in the company. With a good salary, I intended to bring my mother to enjoy her life in America. But my lovely mother didn’t want to bother her son. She said to me, “I’m not use to it.” That was Mother’s Seventh Lie.

8. In her old age, mother got stomach cancer and had to be hospitalized. I, who lived miles away, across the ocean, went home to visit my dearest mother. She lay in weakness on her bed after having an operation. Mother, who looked so old, was staring at me in deep thought. She tried to spread her smile on her face…but it was a noticeable effort. It was clear that the disease had weakened mother’s body. She looked so frail and weak. I stared at my mother with tears flowing. My heart was hurt, so hurt, seeing my mother in that condition. But mother with the little strength she had, said “Don’t cry, my dear. I’m not in pain.” That was Mother’s Eighth Lie.

After saying her eighth sweet lie, my Dearest mother closed her eyes forever !

Submitted by: M. Singh

The say you only live once, but I disagree. What I believe is that life is a golden opportunity to reach a self-realization. The one woman who got me to this understanding is a woman I will never truly know, but I was in her life for a few precious moments.

My father has always had a lot of problems with seizures and on many occasions has gone into the hospital for days at a time. On one such event it turned into about two weeks. One day while visiting my dad in the hospital at around nine-thirty pm an elder lady down the hallway beckoned me. I studied her face; her eyes were blank, and her face pale. I turned away thinking that I imagined it and again absorbed myself into my own problems.

The next morning, since it was a Saturday, my mother and I went to go pay my dad a visit. He was still sleeping when we arrived so to pass time I began walking around the room.  I stopped at the door. The old lady down the hall was wide-awake yet her face was still pale, but her eyes held an emotion in them, I couldn’t decipher. She lifted her head at the sight of me and waved her hand as if to call me over. I decided to go, drawn in by her helplessness. I walked cautiously over to her and then just stood there. I knew not what to do. She motioned towards her IV’s and I now recognized the emotion lying behind those clear, blank eyes. I saw pure sadness, it seemed as if she no longer wanted to live. Tears rushed to my eyes and she turned away as if it hurt her to see me in that state. I understood out meeting was over.

Sunder was a day I will not forget for some time to come. Every minute, every second was haunted by the dying eyes of the pale lady. Everywhere I seemed to glance they followed. Finally my mom thought it was time we went to go see my dad again. I gladly agreed to go along, more to see the pale lady.

We arrived at the hospital and my mind was a sea of thoughts. What is her name? Who is she? Why did she call me over? My thoughts we’re interrupted by my father’s welcoming hello. I answered not really looking over, still deep in thought. I lied about having to go to the washroom. I stood outside the room and expected to see the ancient pale face, but instead I saw an empty bed. I saw a nurse and questioned her about the lady. She laughed. My shock must have shown on my face because she quickly explained the lady had been crazy and was moved to a more suitable area. She had tried to pull out her IV’s that were keeping her alive. I asked if I could see her and was granted my wish.

I followed the nurse’s instructions. I came to a closed ward and as I opened that door I saw a cheerfully colored room that was out of place with the vibe of doom the room held. Not knowing the name or any other information about the woman whom I wanted to meet I tried to explain her to the nurse at the front desk. At once she knew who I must mean. She directed me to bed 9.

My heart seemed to stop for a few seconds as I walked to the bed of the emaciated lady. Her face seemed to glow a little as I walked in. Then again it could have been the florescent hospital lights. I waved a greeting and tried to smile but it turned into more of a confused frown.

The old lady motioned towards the many tubes running in and out of her body. I kind of shrugged to show my inability to understand. For the first time she spoke and her voice came out in a low whisper with an underlying scratchiness to it. She explained that she no longer wanted to live and life felt pointless to her. Then as if she had forgotten everything, she went into a wild story about her childhood. As she narrated the story her eyes weren’t seeing the real world and her voice was alive and happy. The dull voice spoke she said I’m going crazy please end my misery. Just finish me off now.

I was in complete shock I was being asked to commit murder. I tied to quickly end the conversation. I told her she’d be fine, and I’d come back tomorrow to talk to her. As I was turning to leave not really thinking about coming back, she spoke in almost a cry, “I won’t be here, it’s ending very soon.” I couldn’t look back I just walked back into my life.

The next time I went, I walked straight to her. My feet seemed to know the say so I didn’t focus on the signs. I saw the curtains drawn around her bed. I was scared to ask but I asked a nurse about her. I was told she had died in her sleep last night. It turned out to be only a few hours after I had left.

The woman who I will never know taught me so much in her last few days, even if that wasn’t her intention. She showed me how short life can be and how you should treasure it because you don’t know when it will be over/ I learned you can take a breath in but, you can never guarantee it will come out. I’d like to think I wrote this for her, but if was more for myself. To understand how much she affected me. Because of her, I researched my religion, and I learned that, death is nothing but the absence of life.

After the assassination of Indra Gandhi on October 31, 1984, Sikhs were butchered across India. This is a story about a Sikh couple living in an isolated village outside of Punjab. The couple was young and were amritdhari. The Singhni wore a dastaar and they had a young child.

The Sikh couple had an isolated farmhouse in a Hindu dominated area. When news of the assassination reached the area, and it was found out that Sikhs were being killed, some local thugs also decided it was the perfect chance to loot the farmhouse.

The Singh found out about these plans from some well wishers and told his wife that they had very little time and an attack was coming. The Singh said that they should leave their farm and escape to save their lives. The Singhnee however reminded him that they had done Parkash of Sri Guru Granth Sahib on the top floor of the house and how could they run away from Guru Sahib? The Singh again repeated that there was an attack coming and said that their young child would be killed. Singhnee jee insisted again that it would be wrong to run away from Guru Sahib and let the mob disrespect Guru Sahib’s saroop.

The Singh in frustration then said, “Once they kill us, they will disrespect the saroop anyways so what is the point in staying? We can’t save the saroop if we’re dead. The best we can do is save ourselves now. There is no benefit in staying! You are being stubborn and stupid.”

The Singhnee replied that while she had breath in her body, she would not abandon Guru Sahib, even to save her life and while she was alive, no one could dare do any disrespect.

With the mob now on its way, the Singh in frustration told his Singhnee that she could do what she wanted but he was leaving with their son. He then took the infant and escaped.

Singhnee jee went to Guru Sahib’s room, and did ardaas. She asked Guru Sahib for protection and for the courage to, if need be, become Shahid in this seva. She then took a kirpan and waited.

When Singhnee jee saw the mob arrive, yelling and carrying weapons, ready to attack the house. She came down and stood at the door holding her unsheathed Sri Sahib. All of a sudden, the thugs in the mob began to turn around and run away, looking back in terror and then continuing to run. Singhnee jee was confused but amazed at Guru Sahib’s kirpa as the mob retreated and did not return…

Some days later, the Singh came back to the village to check on the fate of his wife and their property. He fully expected that his wife would be assaulted and killed and their home looted. As he was nervously walking to his home, a Hindu acquaintance stopped him and asked, “Singh, where did you gather all those Nihangs from so quickly that day???!”

The Singh was confused and asked, “What do you mean?”

The Hindu replied, “That day, when the mob went to attack your house, your wife came and stood in the door and she was surrounded by so many massive Nihangs who were so tall and carrying all kinds of weapons. Where did you gather all of them from so quickly?”

The Singh realised that Shaheed Singhs had themselves come and protected Guru Sahib’s saroop and his Singhnee’s courage had been rewarded. He went home and begged for forgivness from his Singhnee and told her about how all the villagers were talking about the army of Nihangs that had protected their house.

“Unless you drop your personality you will not be able to find your individuality. Individuality is given by existence; personality is imposed by the society. Personality is social convenience. Society cannot tolerate individuality, because individuality will not follow like a sheep. Individuality has the quality of the lion; the lion moves alone. The sheep are always in the crowd, hoping that being in the crowd will feel cozy. Being in the crowd one feels more protected, secure. If somebody attacks, there is every possibility in a crowd to save yourself. But alone? – only the lions move alone.

And every one of you is born a lion…. but the society goes on conditioning you, programming your mind as a sheep. It gives you a personality, a cozy personality, nice, very convenient, very obedient. Society wants slaves, not people who are absolutely dedicated to freedom…”

Do Not Be Afraid To Realize and Release the Inner Lioness, Roaring From Within You.

… and realize: society has no weight on the free soul of an Azaad Sherni

Once upon a time there lived two very opposite women. One was rich and one was poor. The rich woman spent extensive amounts of time trying to decorate her stone idols and make her prayer room look beautiful with incense, candles, and fresh rose petals. Inside of her heart, the rich woman felt she was doing great service to God. The poor woman had no prayer room or idols at all. She had no money to afford incense and beautiful pearl-colored candles, alas, she could not even pick rose petals without her neighbors being upset with her. The poor woman could not serve God, but in her heart, she saw God in every being, whether high or low.

The rich woman had regular prayer sessions in her large, accommodating home, her entire village praising her for the lavishly beautiful decor of the stone idols. The entire world bowed to the rich woman, exclaiming, “wow, this is a true woman of God. She spends such great time and effort decorating her idols.”

The poor woman was not accepted anywhere. The countrymen spat on her face and everywhere she visited, she received painful hatred. At the end of the day, however, she saw God in every being, and thanked Him for every drop of water and ounce of grain she was given.

One day, the poor woman and rich woman crossed on the same path. The poor woman, looking at the beautiful and resplendent face of the rich woman, offered her a smile and a warm “Jai Raam Ji”. The rich woman, with a disgusted look on her face, declared “stay away from me, you faithless wretch! I must not come in the guise of such poor, tasteless women as you!”

Which woman is a greater devotee of God? She who follows various rituals and who the world obeys as righteous, but who hurts the hearts of God’s devotees? Or she who cries alone at night, repenting any moment that she hurt another soul created by the Lord?

sabhanaa man maanik t(h)aahan mool machaa(n)gavaa ||
The minds of all are like precious jewels; to harm them is not good at all.

jae tho pireeaa dhee sik hiaao n t(h)aahae kehee dhaa ||130||
If you desire your Beloved, then do not break anyone’s heart. ||130||