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Guru Granth Sahib
Composition, Arrangement & Layout
ਜਪੁ | Jup
ਸੋ ਦਰੁ | So Dar
ਸੋਹਿਲਾ | Sohilaa
ਰਾਗੁ ਸਿਰੀਰਾਗੁ | Raag Siree-Raag
Gurbani (14-53)
Ashtpadiyan (53-71)
Gurbani (71-74)
Pahre (74-78)
Chhant (78-81)
Vanjara (81-82)
Vaar Siri Raag (83-91)
Bhagat Bani (91-93)
ਰਾਗੁ ਮਾਝ | Raag Maajh
Gurbani (94-109)
Ashtpadi (109)
Ashtpadiyan (110-129)
Ashtpadi (129-130)
Ashtpadiyan (130-133)
Bara Maha (133-136)
Din Raen (136-137)
Vaar Maajh Ki (137-150)
ਰਾਗੁ ਗਉੜੀ | Raag Gauree
Gurbani (151-185)
Quartets/Couplets (185-220)
Ashtpadiyan (220-234)
Karhalei (234-235)
Ashtpadiyan (235-242)
Chhant (242-249)
Baavan Akhari (250-262)
Sukhmani (262-296)
Thittee (296-300)
Gauree kii Vaar (300-323)
Gurbani (323-330)
Ashtpadiyan (330-340)
Baavan Akhari (340-343)
Thintteen (343-344)
Vaar Kabir (344-345)
Bhagat Bani (345-346)
ਰਾਗੁ ਆਸਾ | Raag Aasaa
Gurbani (347-348)
Chaupaday (348-364)
Panchpadde (364-365)
Kaafee (365-409)
Aasaavaree (409-411)
Ashtpadiyan (411-432)
Patee (432-435)
Chhant (435-462)
Vaar Aasaa (462-475)
Bhagat Bani (475-488)
ਰਾਗੁ ਗੂਜਰੀ | Raag Goojaree
Gurbani (489-503)
Ashtpadiyan (503-508)
Vaar Gujari (508-517)
Vaar Gujari (517-526)
ਰਾਗੁ ਦੇਵਗੰਧਾਰੀ | Raag Dayv-Gandhaaree
Gurbani (527-536)
ਰਾਗੁ ਬਿਹਾਗੜਾ | Raag Bihaagraa
Gurbani (537-556)
Chhant (538-548)
Vaar Bihaagraa (548-556)
ਰਾਗੁ ਵਡਹੰਸ | Raag Wadhans
Gurbani (557-564)
Ashtpadiyan (564-565)
Chhant (565-575)
Ghoriaan (575-578)
Alaahaniiaa (578-582)
Vaar Wadhans (582-594)
ਰਾਗੁ ਸੋਰਠਿ | Raag Sorath
Gurbani (595-634)
Asatpadhiya (634-642)
Vaar Sorath (642-659)
ਰਾਗੁ ਧਨਾਸਰੀ | Raag Dhanasaree
Gurbani (660-685)
Astpadhiya (685-687)
Chhant (687-691)
Bhagat Bani (691-695)
ਰਾਗੁ ਜੈਤਸਰੀ | Raag Jaitsree
Gurbani (696-703)
Chhant (703-705)
Vaar Jaitsaree (705-710)
Bhagat Bani (710)
ਰਾਗੁ ਟੋਡੀ | Raag Todee
ਰਾਗੁ ਬੈਰਾੜੀ | Raag Bairaaree
ਰਾਗੁ ਤਿਲੰਗ | Raag Tilang
Gurbani (721-727)
Bhagat Bani (727)
ਰਾਗੁ ਸੂਹੀ | Raag Suhi
Gurbani (728-750)
Ashtpadiyan (750-761)
Kaafee (761-762)
Suchajee (762)
Gunvantee (763)
Chhant (763-785)
Vaar Soohee (785-792)
Bhagat Bani (792-794)
ਰਾਗੁ ਬਿਲਾਵਲੁ | Raag Bilaaval
Gurbani (795-831)
Ashtpadiyan (831-838)
Thitteen (838-840)
Vaar Sat (841-843)
Chhant (843-848)
Vaar Bilaaval (849-855)
Bhagat Bani (855-858)
ਰਾਗੁ ਗੋਂਡ | Raag Gond
Gurbani (859-869)
Ashtpadiyan (869)
Bhagat Bani (870-875)
ਰਾਗੁ ਰਾਮਕਲੀ | Raag Ramkalee
Ashtpadiyan (902-916)
Gurbani (876-902)
Anand (917-922)
Sadd (923-924)
Chhant (924-929)
Dakhnee (929-938)
Sidh Gosat (938-946)
Vaar Ramkalee (947-968)
ਰਾਗੁ ਨਟ ਨਾਰਾਇਨ | Raag Nat Narayan
Gurbani (975-980)
Ashtpadiyan (980-983)
ਰਾਗੁ ਮਾਲੀ ਗਉੜਾ | Raag Maalee Gauraa
Gurbani (984-988)
Bhagat Bani (988)
ਰਾਗੁ ਮਾਰੂ | Raag Maaroo
Gurbani (889-1008)
Ashtpadiyan (1008-1014)
Kaafee (1014-1016)
Ashtpadiyan (1016-1019)
Anjulian (1019-1020)
Solhe (1020-1033)
Dakhni (1033-1043)
ਰਾਗੁ ਤੁਖਾਰੀ | Raag Tukhaari
Bara Maha (1107-1110)
Chhant (1110-1117)
ਰਾਗੁ ਕੇਦਾਰਾ | Raag Kedara
Gurbani (1118-1123)
Bhagat Bani (1123-1124)
ਰਾਗੁ ਭੈਰਉ | Raag Bhairo
Gurbani (1125-1152)
Partaal (1153)
Ashtpadiyan (1153-1167)
ਰਾਗੁ ਬਸੰਤੁ | Raag Basant
Gurbani (1168-1187)
Ashtpadiyan (1187-1193)
Vaar Basant (1193-1196)
ਰਾਗੁ ਸਾਰਗ | Raag Saarag
Gurbani (1197-1200)
Partaal (1200-1231)
Ashtpadiyan (1232-1236)
Chhant (1236-1237)
Vaar Saarang (1237-1253)
ਰਾਗੁ ਮਲਾਰ | Raag Malaar
Gurbani (1254-1293)
Partaal (1265-1273)
Ashtpadiyan (1273-1278)
Chhant (1278)
Vaar Malaar (1278-91)
Bhagat Bani (1292-93)
ਰਾਗੁ ਕਾਨੜਾ | Raag Kaanraa
Gurbani (1294-96)
Partaal (1296-1318)
Ashtpadiyan (1308-1312)
Chhant (1312)
Vaar Kaanraa
Bhagat Bani (1318)
ਰਾਗੁ ਕਲਿਆਨ | Raag Kalyaan
Gurbani (1319-23)
Ashtpadiyan (1323-26)
ਰਾਗੁ ਪ੍ਰਭਾਤੀ | Raag Prabhaatee
Gurbani (1327-1341)
Ashtpadiyan (1342-51)
ਰਾਗੁ ਜੈਜਾਵੰਤੀ | Raag Jaijaiwanti
Gurbani (1352-53)
Salok | Gatha | Phunahe | Chaubole | Swayiye
Sehskritee Mahala 1
Sehskritee Mahala 5
Gaathaa Mahala 5
Phunhay Mahala 5
Chaubolae Mahala 5
Shaloks Bhagat Kabir
Shaloks Sheikh Farid
Swaiyyae Mahala 5
Swaiyyae in Praise of Gurus
Shaloks in Addition To Vaars
Shalok Ninth Mehl
Mundavanee Mehl 5
ਰਾਗ ਮਾਲਾ, Raag Maalaa
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<blockquote data-quote="Admin" data-source="post: 107683" data-attributes="member: 1"><p>[FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">THE SKYLINE was a dark, uncomfortable grey as I stood at the window of my office in Delhi’s Connaught Place area, watching plumes of thick smoke spiralling skywards. Word had spread that Indira Gandhi had been shot dead by her Sikh bodyguards and a motley crowd of angry protestors had started burning taxis. The phones rang incessantly, each call bringing news of an unfolding carnage.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"></span>[/FONT][FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">One such call was from my father, an Indian Air Force officer. He had left his office in Lutyen’s Delhi, the political heart of the Capital, at about 7 pm as he did daily, but that day — 31 October, 1984 — the proud uniformed officer cowered in fear. He had tried making his way home on his Vespa scooter but by then, mobs had already started searching for anyone in a turban.</span>[/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">My father had discarded his turban and worn a helmet to reach home, an act that left a deep wound in his psyche. Another relative hid inside a water tank overnight, after being chased by a mob in South Extension, a posh Delhi locality. The tank water that November night was cold, but he trembled in sheer fright as he described how he ran for dear life.</span>[/FONT]</p><p></p><p> [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">But the next three days were about death. Every morning, I turned the key of a huge padlock — my family secure within the precincts of the house — and went about my job as a young reporter. I have lost count of the number of times my taxi was stopped by blood-lusting lumpens. They were looking for Sikhs everywhere, anywhere. Under the seat, inside the boot. Several times, they ordered the driver to open the petrol tank and thrusting a rubber pipe in, simply sucked petrol out, preparing for the next kill.</span>[/FONT]</p><p></p><p> [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">The streets of India’s political capital were littered with burning vehicles, burning houses, burning gurdwaras, burning men. Death was in naked display; turbaned Sikhs easy prey. For three days and nights bonfires raged as the mobs freely slaughtered. Helpless women and children sat around burnt corpses and wailed in Mongolpuri, in Palam, in Bhogal. Faceless colonies now etched in aff idavit after meaningless affidavit.</span>[/FONT]</p><p></p><p> [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">My father had discarded his turban and worn a helmet to reach home, an act that left a deep wound in his psyche</span>[/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">Police vehicles drove past hapless women in Mongol puri. We waved desperately for them to stop. Help us, help us, the women pleaded, looking in turns at us and the passing vehicle. Why were the cops not stopping? The women pointed us to a<em> nallah, </em>a drain running through Mongolpuri and adjacent Sultanpuri where burnt bodies had been dumped. ‘Stop, stop,’ the women and I screamed in unison when another police car drove by. It slowed for a moment as one of its occupants said, <em>“Hamari duty khatam ho chukki hai.”</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"><em></em></span>[/FONT][FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">They were past their duty hour. So what if mobs were still on the rampage. So what if these widows knew the names of their husbands’ killers? So what if a young innocent, barely in her 20s, was holding her dead four-year-old son to her chest?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"></span>[/FONT]</p><p> [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">Everyone in Mongolpuri revealed the truth as they saw it — Sajjan Kumar, the Congress MP, had freely distributed kerosene bottles and hundred rupee notes, Sajjan Kumar’s men moved around with voters lists in their hands, Sajjan Kumar’s men first beat the men with iron rods, then forced them to cut their hair and then burnt them alive.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"></span>[/FONT]</p><p> [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]<span style="font-size: 10px">Revisiting 1984 is a painful memory; the denial of justice a second stab in the hearts of wretched survivors. 1984 is still about the dead and the living.</span>[/FONT]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Admin, post: 107683, member: 1"] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]THE SKYLINE was a dark, uncomfortable grey as I stood at the window of my office in Delhi’s Connaught Place area, watching plumes of thick smoke spiralling skywards. Word had spread that Indira Gandhi had been shot dead by her Sikh bodyguards and a motley crowd of angry protestors had started burning taxis. The phones rang incessantly, each call bringing news of an unfolding carnage. [/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]One such call was from my father, an Indian Air Force officer. He had left his office in Lutyen’s Delhi, the political heart of the Capital, at about 7 pm as he did daily, but that day — 31 October, 1984 — the proud uniformed officer cowered in fear. He had tried making his way home on his Vespa scooter but by then, mobs had already started searching for anyone in a turban.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]My father had discarded his turban and worn a helmet to reach home, an act that left a deep wound in his psyche. Another relative hid inside a water tank overnight, after being chased by a mob in South Extension, a posh Delhi locality. The tank water that November night was cold, but he trembled in sheer fright as he described how he ran for dear life.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]But the next three days were about death. Every morning, I turned the key of a huge padlock — my family secure within the precincts of the house — and went about my job as a young reporter. I have lost count of the number of times my taxi was stopped by blood-lusting lumpens. They were looking for Sikhs everywhere, anywhere. Under the seat, inside the boot. Several times, they ordered the driver to open the petrol tank and thrusting a rubber pipe in, simply sucked petrol out, preparing for the next kill.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]The streets of India’s political capital were littered with burning vehicles, burning houses, burning gurdwaras, burning men. Death was in naked display; turbaned Sikhs easy prey. For three days and nights bonfires raged as the mobs freely slaughtered. Helpless women and children sat around burnt corpses and wailed in Mongolpuri, in Palam, in Bhogal. Faceless colonies now etched in aff idavit after meaningless affidavit.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]My father had discarded his turban and worn a helmet to reach home, an act that left a deep wound in his psyche[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]Police vehicles drove past hapless women in Mongol puri. We waved desperately for them to stop. Help us, help us, the women pleaded, looking in turns at us and the passing vehicle. Why were the cops not stopping? The women pointed us to a[I] nallah, [/I]a drain running through Mongolpuri and adjacent Sultanpuri where burnt bodies had been dumped. ‘Stop, stop,’ the women and I screamed in unison when another police car drove by. It slowed for a moment as one of its occupants said, [I]“Hamari duty khatam ho chukki hai.” [/I][/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]They were past their duty hour. So what if mobs were still on the rampage. So what if these widows knew the names of their husbands’ killers? So what if a young innocent, barely in her 20s, was holding her dead four-year-old son to her chest? [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]Everyone in Mongolpuri revealed the truth as they saw it — Sajjan Kumar, the Congress MP, had freely distributed kerosene bottles and hundred rupee notes, Sajjan Kumar’s men moved around with voters lists in their hands, Sajjan Kumar’s men first beat the men with iron rods, then forced them to cut their hair and then burnt them alive. [/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=2]Revisiting 1984 is a painful memory; the denial of justice a second stab in the hearts of wretched survivors. 1984 is still about the dead and the living.[/SIZE][/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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