will i ever find it again?

Submitted by: Harmeet Kaur

Punjab culture straight from hell.
Very soon its evil tell.

You are looking for a wife,
Someone who will share your life.
Not a woman to be found,
Rotting foetus in the ground.

Guru’s teaching has been taught,
But its meaning never sought.
Daughter is a gift from God,
Not a dead, decaying clod.

Without woman, there’s no life,
No more children, no more wife.
Guru’s teachings die off now,
Go and worship sacred cow.

Tinkle, tinkle, little boy,
Bring your parents so much joy.

Submitted by: I. Singh
Author Unknown

In those holiest hours when it is such
A beautiful time to serve and touch
The marble where the saints have walked,
Why must those gilded doors be locked
To women alone, the Guru’s daughters,
Cleansed by Thy Word and Thy Holy Waters?

The women of Bibi Bhani’s line,
And those descended from Mata Sahib Kaur’s time,
Gather as one to utter this prayer:
“O compassionate Guru of infinite care,
Let all Sikhs enact this holy rite,
As all are immaculate in Thy sight.”

By: Gurkiran Kaur Khalsa
Submitted by: J. Kaur

From the West, we made the trip
To the holy nectar tank.
Bowed our heads, took a sip and a dip
And humbly gave our thanks
For this chance to honor the God in all,
Regardless of race, gender, or caste.
By answering the Jathedar’s call
We truly felt that at last
Women would be honored as in Nanak’s song
Of Bandh Jameeai,
And she who had been separated for so long
Would be bathed in the Guru’s ray.

Fireworks burst over the water that night,
During the reading of Kirtan Sohila,
In honor of this, the very first time
That women would perform this seva.
And so with hearts glad and spirits high,
We dressed in our best for the occasion.
Walking down from the Nivas, we felt we could fly,
No doubt, no hesitation
Entered our minds as we bowed our foreheads
And welcomed the cool marble’s kiss.
We felt that the hand of destiny had led
Us to this experience of bliss.

The jathedar met us before the closed gates
Shortly past the hour of midnight.
We sat down with the other women to wait
Across from the men who had come that night
To wash the floors with milk and water
Making the Temple new again,
To once more embrace the Guru’s sons and daughters
Freeing them from their pain.
Yet, this was to be a night unlike any other
For hundreds of years before,
Instead of men seeing only their brothers,
Women had come to wash the floors.

Our actions were taken as a threat
To all of the men sitting there.
Instead of with love, our gestures were met
With cold and hostile stares.
One by one, they arose and gathered aside
In a tight and angry knot
Over by the right-hand nischan sahib.
All was well, we thought
Because we were with the Jathedar
Who surely would be treated with respect.
Yet even this courageous sevadar
Was unprepared for what happened next.
With loud and angry shouting voices
The mob burst like a dam,
Surrounding us in a sea of chaos
So it seemed that every man
Except those who had come to support us
Was raising his voice or fist.
Never before had we experienced
Such intense hatred as this.
They screamed out the battle song,
“Bole So Nihal!”
As if to them alone it belonged
And not to Gursikhs all.

As a group, the mob tried to push us back,
We held on and stood our ground.
Locking our arms against the attack,
Our strength became profound.
“You Americans broke the Rehit,” they screamed,
“You stir up controversy.”
The very fact of our unwavering presence seemed
To increase their hostility.
Since most of us couldn’t speak Punjabi,
They threw their words with force
At the Jathedarji, Amarjit Kaur, and Bibiji,
Trying to change history’s course.

Then as a crowd, they rolled to the side,
There seemed to be no relief.
We sat down by ourselves in relative quiet
And recited the song of peace.
At 1 AM, with an air of elation,
Men passed through the small door, one by one.
We were left in isolation,
The floor washing had begun.
Yet we knew we had answered the call,
At this moment in time and space,
To serve the delivery of a higher law,
Returning women to a state of grace.
How long we sat there, we did not know,
It seemed like eternity.
Then the Jathedar opened the door and said, “Go!”
We crossed the threshold to destiny.
As we walked upon the causeway silently,
We could not turn back anymore.
A soft orange light glowed mysteriously
In front of us, through the temple door.
What lay ahead of us might be trouble,
Yet our purpose could not be denied.
We bowed our heads on the threshold of marble
And quietly went inside.

Off to one side, waiting for direction,
We were completely ignored.
The men continued their preparation,
They had already washed the floors.
The Jathedar said, “You came to do seva,
What are you waiting for?”
So we picked up whatever happened to lie there,
And went out through the side door.
We cleaned the railings with what we had,
With love, we polished the brass.
When a few kind men handed us some rags,
We felt we had come home at last.

Looking out over the water at 1:30 AM,
I saw the face of the clock,
And wondered if any other women
Would ever take that same walk
Down the long causeway again
For the seva of cleaning the floors.
Would there be a time when both women and men
Passed together through that small door.
Amarjit Kaur spoke to some of the men,
Saying that they had made her sad this day,
For they had made her feel that she was a woman,
And not a Gursikh in all ways.

Then we sat inside by the Guru’s bed,
When everything was done.
Thinking of the times ahead
When all Gursikhs would be one.
Looking through the Guru’s eyes,
Each soul has the face of God.
Eventually, others will realize
That the differences they focus upon
Keep them from the experience
Of seeing the God in all.
Yet for now, in our way,
We had made a difference,
By answering the Guru’s call.

In March of 1996, for one blessed night, a group of American & Indian Amritdhari women were allowed to do the ishnaan seva at the Golden Temple under the protection and guidance of Singh Sahib Bhai Manjit Singh, the then acting-Jathedar of the Akal Takhat.

By: Gurukirin Kaur Khalsa
Submitted by: R. Kaur

I’m walking to the sun
With a heavy, heavy load
But if you join, it’ll lessen
Together, we’ll grow old

Cause I’m walking to the sun
As freedom comes with a price
Sister, lets walk together and
End our people’s strife

Come now, lets walk to the sun
It’s our time to shine, too
The legend of Mai Bhago
We can prove to be true

Cause we’ll be walking to the sun
And its radiating bliss
I will long for the cold
Oh trust me on this

But I’m still walking to the sun
Cause I’m born to do it
All the pain in the world
My mothers have been through it

Yes, we’re walking to the sun
With our children and families too
It’s a long, dry walk,
But sister, we’ll pull through

Because we’re walking to the sun!
Our only shelter is the Earth
Only when you fight for something
Do you realize its worth…

We’re walking to the sun,
We’re walking to the sun,
Everyday, Everyday,
We’re all becoming one…

We’re walking to the sun.
I’m feeling its rays,
I’m feeling its heat,
Cause we’re walking to the sun.
I can feel its rays
I can feel its heat
It’s the sun, it’s the sun,
I can feel it come.
It’s the sun, it’s the sun,
I can feel it come.
I can feel it come.

Cause we’re walking to the sun
Yes, walking to the Sun
God, walk with us
Cause we’re walking to the sun
God, join with us
Cause we’re walking to the sun
God, be with us
Cause we’re walking to the sun.

Submitted by: Malkeet Kaur

————————————-

Sat Sri Akaal
We are the people, the people of Punjaab
This is our voice
Muffled and ignored
Confused and brushed aside
Wait, do we even have a voice
anymore?

We think we are free
but here I will
describe our
story

They milk us people of Punjaab
like we milk our cows, everyday
They churn us in boiling pots,
like we churn butter, everyday
They hit us and strike us with sticks
like we hit clothing, to remove dirt, everyday
And they squeeze the blood, of us people of Punjaab,
like we squeeze lemons, pick berries, the purest juice dripping, everyday
They grind us, slowly,
like our grain is grinded, every vaisaakh
every vaisaakh
every morning
every night

As pure as a rose
Our naive people
Are being brainwashed and manipulated
Tattered
Ripped apart
Our heritage destroyed
Assault, Assault! Rape! We call on You
To help us
This is our plea
This is our Anthem
We are
the people
of
Punjab –

Wake up, souls of Chamkaur and Sirhind
Wake up, Shaheeds of Chandini Chowk
Wake up, alleys of Amritsar
Wake up, Malwa, Doaba, Maja
Wake up, souls of Nankana Sahib
Wake up, beautiful souls of Sri Keshgarh Sahib
Do you remember.. The day.. When He asked, for our heads
Wake up… Wake up… He is asking, again
Wake up, souls of Harmandar Sahib’s sarovar
Wake up, spirits of Punjab, residing in the lakes
fields, fertile lands, waters, buildings, trees, grass
kheth, khoo, rivers, nadhis, galees,
Wake up, villiages, wake up, cities…
Wake up, power.. Wake up, puratan souls.. Wake up
Wake up, soormay, sarbloh,
Wake up, streaming blue attire, clashing iron, beautiful saffron sunsets
Singhs huge and mighty, Singhs small, fast, and fierce
Wake up, Peaceful, resounding melody and currents of the Divine Name, pure and beautiful Raag Kirtan
Wake up, Divine instruments, streaming drips of Nectar-laced Praises with exalted voices, enlightened souls
vibrating, screaming, resounding, repeating, melodizing, “Waheguru, Waheguru, Waheguru”

Wake up, strength, beauty, valour
Wake up, fearlessness, virtue, principles, morality
Wake up, soormay! Wake up, powerful men and women! Wake up, oh brave souls that once shook this Earth.
Wake up, you will be needed, to shake it again… To bring righteousness, once again…
Wake up, come back, we are awaiting your return, your arrival, Oh Noble Knights of God, Oh Freedom Fighters of the Purest Cause…
If you do not stand up, tell us, who else will…
Oh Pure warriors, so blessed and exalted by the Lord Himself, oh Divine Reflections of Guru Nanak’s Light,
Oh Rapturing, purified, Sovereign Mothers,
Oh fearless, brave, powerful and Pristine Children
Oh Singhs, Warriors, Lions and Lionesses, Mothers, Daughters, Fighters, Sons and Fathers, Warriors, Saints, Scholars, Writers
Servants, Land-owners, Farmers and Business-people, Sages, Intellectuals, Oh Radiating, Guiding Lights, Oh Hope of the Future…
We are hoping you are ready to come back home
We are hoping you are preparing to realize your True Selves,
We are hoping you can see, only in your shelter can we find Safety and acceptance of the Lord’s Divine Will…

Wake up, chastity, honour, wake up and take what belongs to you…
Wake up, and don’t let anyone else take it!
Wake up, and stop letting him walk on you… Who dare soil the honour of a Warrior Panth?
Wake up, purity, sweetness, innocence
Wake up, justice, embellishment, flourishment for all
Wake up, acceptance of His Will, strong Faith, unparalleled fearlessness
Wake up, Oh Living Dead
Wake up, Oh Eyes that smile in the face of death
Wake up, muscle, valour, sweat, pure power, death, spirits, angels, and demi-gods
Wake up, reality
Wake up, beauty
Wake up, freedom

Wake up, Raaj, Inkalaab, Insaaf

Wake up, Singho
Just
Wake up…

Wake up, Singho -
It’s time,
to Wake up…
Jaago
Aiah

—————————————–

When it comes to separations and pains
I have countless soiled within
But still, in the form of tears in my eyes,
You come,
Punjaab…

Submitted by: Amar Kaur

What about Majha, Doaba and Malwa
Waaris Shah, Phulkari, and our earned Sardareeya
Our culture and religion, overshadowed in dismay
“We love Hollywood and Bollywood”, our lost children say

No remnants of the sweet mangoes of Punjab
No recollections of Guru Nanak, and Mardana’s Rabaab
How about the taus, dilruba, peepa, sarangi?
We’ve forgotton every drop of Punjab – once Bahurangi

No respect for elders, no innocence and purity
We’re slaves of other cultures, we’ve lost our liberty
We are wasting our lives dancing and drinking in clubs,
Once pure and God-fearing, we’ve become obsessed with drugs

We don’t remember Bulleh Shah, Heer Ranjha, Fareed Ji,
Our Punjabi roots are covered with shame and animosity
The only shame we should feel is of our lack of moral action
We forget about our Gurudwara, lost in senseless distractions

Do you remember Guru Nanak made us all equal – as one?
Yet we are lost in a Brahman’s caste system, our wisdom is undone
Forget traditional values, self-respect, and humility,
We’re now swearing, smoking, drinking, losing all stability

We’ve forgotten all the freedom songs, and prayers our ancestors have sung,
Being brainwashed in Hindi and English, we’ve lost our own mother tongue!
How will Punjab proceed – if we lose our language roots?
We’re simply planting rotten seeds but expecting fruit.

What happened to the true, brave purity of Punjab?
Is our culture made of dirty music videos and Sharab?
Oh listen, drunken youth, to this heartbroken plea -
Our ancestors didn’t get these Sardaariya for free

WAKE UP

Punjab is ours and we must keep alive the true purity of Punjab.
Forget caste forget alcohol forget drugs, these vices are drowning our people in despair!!
Remember truth, purity, sweetness, chastity, loyalty, bravery…
These are the foundations of Punjab’s warrior Singh and Singhnis
Give up the temptations of meat, drugs, and Sharaab
so you can proudly proclaim, “Mera Vasda Rahe Panjab”

Guru Ji take me back, to those waters where so many bodies were dropped, drowned, floated bloated upwards
Guru Ji take me back, to that dirt and grass, where blood spilled and the screams of pain were echoing
beautiful
pain
empty
powerful
powerless
surrender
in Your Will
Please take me back, to those fields, bedrooms, villiages, complexes, where sharp pain was absorbed by brave warrior chests
Please take me back Guru Ji
Please take me back

Please take me back to when the kirtan was through the roof, beyond explanation, continuous vibrations
Please take me back, to when the katha was fearless, all were ready to give their life in an instant…
although everyone wanted to live
To see the dawn break,
Even rose buds, like warriors, are most beautiful when
lying on the ground

Guru Ji take me back… Please take me back
Please take me back, to when everyone was flowing with warrior spirit
Please take me back, to the times when everything everywhere was pure kesri

Guru Ji, take me back to when the land shook, with the encompassing footprints of lions
Please take me back to those murderers that suffered at the hands of their own poor actions
Take me back to the sweet air, dripping with sacrifice and amrit, take me back to that tender touch of Rain, falling on bodies, beautiful, as their souls escape

Guru Ji, take me back to when my hands never failed from doing righteous deeds
My hands were once so strong, cracked, hard and dry
Guru Ji, take me back, to when my inside became hard as well, yet so much softness and beauty penetrated my soul

Take me back, to those lakes and lands, those fields and marshes, those valleys and alleys
Please take me back, to those shaking cities, once full of sin and corruption, were being wiped out by Light

Guru Ji
It was our reality
It was our life
It was our very breath
It was your Panth
It was your grace

Guru Ji take me back to the fields of Mehta, where even amongst such heated violence, peace and flower scents travelled timelessly
Guru Ji take me back, to the sun shining purely, radiating the Singhs’ lungs, like their Naam and Bani

Guru Ji take me back, to all those divine Gursikhs
as without them I am lost
Guru Ji take me back
to 1984
Guru Ji take me back
to Punjab
Guru Ji take me back
to the fields of flowers
For that
is where I belong,
Gursikho,
that
is where We belong.

Submitted by: Amar Kaur

they say there’s a love
dangerous enough
to make someone fall
in complete submission

into your dharthi and lakes
water rivers streams power
i fall and become one
the rain , punjaab, joining with you

becoming one with your power,
grace, secrets, beauty, Help
they say there’s a love
dangerous enough

Punjaab~ without you i have no vass
no existence no birth no shelter no love
laying in your fields, Basant has come
i lose my sense of self
dangerous enough…

everything blooms, the flowers the trees
the grass and fields are getting ready for Vaisaakh
everywhere there is colour, timeless, eternal
punjaab punjaab… again and again

as everything begins
to spin and spin
they say there’s a love
dangerous enough…

to really drive a person
into intensive withdrawl
when nothing else matters because
his love is being used
by somebody else

punjaab, punjaab… again and again

i lay here amongst your forever pure earth
that so many have attempted to soil with dirt
so much bloodshed of innocence you’ve absorbed, Punjaab
so much pain, cries and tears of helplessness..

punjaaab, punjaaab
wanting to bury myself in you
never return, waiting for all of them
to come from death
punjaab, punjaab… again and again

imagining, as the tears flow so deeply
all of the souls that graced your soil
their footprints and dust leaving permanent marks
punjaab, punjaab… again and again

This Love has the power
to make someone fall
in complete submission
breathless, beyond words,

They say there’s a love
dangerous enough
I would do whatever I could
to make you mine again…

Punjaab…

Submitted by: Amar Kaur

More than I could ever have asked for. Beyond my level of comprehension.
Outpours of power, love, and strength
Trustworthy, when no one else’s arms can be trusted
Her grip is fastened to my soul and her memories flash back in my mind
Entirely selfless and always giving, having blood of her children spilled on her
Ready to rock against evil-doers as her children stand on guard

Pierces through ones pain like the sharpest sword
Unbreakable strength within her roots, her earth, and her shattered heart and throbbing veins
Never resisting and always fighting, no matter what she has seen
Joy drips from her constantly, her strength and pain moulds into silent acceptance
Always pure, no matter what anyone does to her. Always beautiful, in her self
Battle wounds only make her more solid, and her history more divine.

It Is Heard Within The Piercing Silence

Mother
Punjab

You are loved