From the Head Jathedar had come the call,
For women to wash the floors
Of the Harimandir Sahib in Amritsar,
The Golden Temple, whose four doors
Face the four corners of the world,
As open as heaven’s gate,
Except in the earliest hours of the morn,
When women are made to wait
Outside while men alone clean the dust
Left by the holy saint’s feet.
Yet now, his call had come to us,
This sacred rite to complete.

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