☀️ JOIN SPN MOBILE
Forums
New posts
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
What's new
New posts
New media
New media comments
New resources
Latest activity
Videos
New media
New comments
Library
Latest reviews
Donate
Log in
Register
What's new
New posts
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Welcome to all New Sikh Philosophy Network Forums!
Explore Sikh Sikhi Sikhism...
Sign up
Log in
Discussions
Sikh Sikhi Sikhism
You Say Potato, I Say Pot-tah-toh (from SikhChic)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="spnadmin" data-source="post: 119201" data-attributes="member: 35"><p><strong>You Say Potato, I Say Pot-tah-toh ...by SANMEET KAUR</strong></p><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> Culture is a funny thing.</p><p></p><p>For starters, the noun ‘culture' has more than ten meanings in the dictionary, and all ten of them could not be more different. </p><p></p><p>Culture has everything covered, from art to zen.</p><p></p><p>Suffice to say that even though the Sikh Diaspora is united by the word Sikh, the cultures we have assimilated throughout make us very, very different. </p><p></p><p>Sardar T. Sher Singh recently wrote, "We are Sikh-American, Sikh-Canadian, Sikh-Briton, Sikh-Kiwi, Sikh-Indian, Sikh-Aussie, etc." </p><p></p><p>Indeed we are - the Sikh Diaspora.</p><p></p><p>I remember clearly the first meal I had as an about-to-be daughter-in-law. </p><p></p><p>At any given point the first meal with your in-laws is a formidable experience. Add to that, I had heard a lot about my mother-in-law's cooking skills. </p><p> Therefore, I was so mystified when I sat at the table to find a huge pot of chicken and cabbage soup and a tray of a whole boiled chicken. Accompanying the scrumptious layout was a plate of fresh <em>dhannia</em> (cilantro) leaves and sliced cucumbers, soya sauce and chillies. </p><p></p><p>I looked at my green and white feast, wondering where to begin.</p><p></p><p>When my brother, Mr. Know-it-all, happily piped in: "O, Chicken-rice, Aunty! Delicious!" </p><p></p><p>Naturally I thought, the better-traveled, better-read would know; I was struggling - you'd think Mr. Know-it-all would help? No! He was too busy eating.</p><p></p><p>My fiancé's cousin graciously came to my rescue. And I still didn't get it right. </p><p></p><p>Well! Now that I have finally ‘got' Chicken-rice, it is my favorite go-to food. </p><p></p><p>Most people are surprised to learn that we cook mostly Malay-Chinese food at home. </p><p> Well, if you were born and raised in Singapore, and so were your parents and your kids for a good measure, what would you be eating?</p><p></p><p>It was definitely the ‘Sikh' in the diaspora that made our families think that we would make a good match. Him - a fourth-generation Singaporean, who had spent his formative years in Canada. Me - an out and out Bombay girl.</p><p></p><p>It's not just the food. </p><p></p><p>Given accents vary but so do vernacular quirks. </p><p></p><p>Every relation - aunt, uncle, cousin - I've inherited from my marriage will end practically every sentence with the word (?) ‘La.' It always precedes the full-stop. E.g. "C'mon, la," or "I've already had my breakfast, la."</p><p></p><p>At first it felt rather strange. </p><p></p><p>Just like my Masar ji's Hindi-Punjabi, spoken with his Burmese accents, "<em>Assi</em> late <em>ho</em> <em>rahey hain, ham bol raha hai, tum sunnti</em> <em>nahin hai,</em>" while he's talking to my maasi. </p><p></p><p>Early in my marriage, I found myself biting my tongue whenever the word, "<em>Insha-Allah</em>" was on its tip. I could imagine my father-in-law shooting me a quizzical look.</p><p></p><p>My paternal grandfather had set-up his business in Iran. First trading between Iran and Pakistan, and then between Iran and India. Since Bombay was his Indian base, our family was divided between the two. "<em>Insha Allah</em>" ("God willing") is a pretty common phrase not just in Iran but also on my dad's side of the family.</p><p></p><p>Mom and Dad were always very strict about us learning Punjabi - speaking, reading and writing. </p><p></p><p>But all our schooling went to naught when my brother and I found ourselves slightly misplaced in Amritsar as kids. </p><p></p><p>We knew that everyone was going to be at <em>Kesar da Dhaba</em>, a very famous local joint so it wasn't a big deal that we were left behind at Sri Harmandir Sahib. </p><p> When we got out of the premises we asked for directions to the <em>Dhaba</em> from a kind-looking young man. </p><p></p><p>"<em>A-gaa ja ke, a-gaa, mur ke a-gaa</em>..." he replied. </p><p></p><p>After thanking him politely, I turned to my brother: "Did you get any of that?" I asked. Our impromptu guide had lost me at the second ‘a<em>-gaa'</em> (ahead). </p><p></p><p>"I think so," my brother replied, looking very unsure, "I just don't see any cows. (In crude Punjabi ‘a<em>-gaa</em>' means ahead while ‘<em>gaa(n)</em>' means cow.)</p><p></p><p>Being neither here nor there, is a feeling I carry with me. </p><p></p><p>I think it is because we are a people whose physical roots don't go deep. Both my grandfathers left Pakistan. One moved to Iran because of circumstances and the other Bihar, India. Later my maternal grandfather moved to Toronto in the early 1970s. My mother married in Bombay, I in Toronto. </p><p></p><p>Three generations have covered six sets of longitudes and latitudes between them. There never was enough time to grow those roots.</p><p></p><p>A rather comical irony of life was moving to Brampton post-marriage. I was expecting some culture shocks. But I did not know that most of them were going to be associated with re-learning my community and the way my people functioned. </p><p></p><p>The gurdwaras here have a different ‘feel' to them. People dress differently and speak differently; their manners and mannerisms are all different.</p><p></p><p>I learnt for the first time of <em>jutts</em> and <em>biradaris</em>, that vegetarianism was an issue, <em>puggh</em>-tying Sikh women, political correctness in Sikhism and Biker gangs.</p><p></p><p>For the uninitiated, the ‘Bikers' are a group of elderly Sardars who ride (bicycles) usually in spring and summer. They get together at local parks to drink, play cards and generally catch up on the gossip. O, it is quite a sight to see <em>bhappa ji's</em> ride with the wind (blowing through their long-flowing beards), <em>jholas</em> hanging on the side. It portrays youthfulness, a zest of life that belies their age. </p><p></p><p>I found that I barely understood any Punjabi spoken at the local gurdwara. </p><p> I had never even heard many of the words. When folks talked to me, I would just smile sweetly. </p><p></p><p>I did the same when a woman told me, "<em>Saade juvaakey saannoo nahin puchhdey</em>" ('our children have abandoned us'). I never knew what <em>juvaakey</em> (children) meant. Needless to say I felt horrible and totally inadequate when I found out to what I had responded with "Oh, wonderful!". </p><p> Also very quickly, I found out that culturally my North American cousins and I have little in common. We often joke that they usually drop in to hang out with either my husband, brother-in-law or our three-year-old daughter. </p><p></p><p>Needless to say that after almost seven years in Canada I now ‘get' some stuff ... </p><p> My first Christmas in Canada was equally memorable. </p><p></p><p>I was so excited. </p><p></p><p>But then I've always needed the flimsiest of reasons to celebrate. I wanted to see the lights, the decorations and everything tinsel. My husband graciously agreed. But when it came to bringing home a tree, he put his foot down. </p><p></p><p>"Why, we're not Christians," he said. </p><p></p><p>I thought about all those years I had spent singing in the school Christmas Choir knowing full well what I was doing and that certainly did not make me Christian. </p><p></p><p>I said as much but he was adamant. I relented.</p><p></p><p>Gradually I realized the challenges of growing up in Canada. </p><p></p><p>One of his closest friend's mother would routinely try to convert him to the 'Lord's way'. This was one way he had chosen to hold his own.</p><p></p><p>In contrast, I had the security of growing up, knowing fully well that no one out there was judging me on a religious basis or trying to convert me. </p><p></p><p>When it comes to our daughter, he will not think twice about getting a tree ‘when she asks for it.' </p><p></p><p>"Let's not make a big deal out of it," he says. </p><p></p><p>I'm beginning to think he's right. </p><p></p><p>Already, she talks more about Santa than anyone else. I regret I may have something to do with this. I would like to see her equally excited about Guru Gobind Singh ji. But dashing as though He may be, He doesn't sit her on His lap and give her candy canes.</p><p></p><p>So here we are. </p><p></p><p>The three of us, an assimilation of a bit of Iran, a bit of Bihar, bigger bits of Bombay and Singapore and the biggest bit - Canada. </p><p></p><p>I am acutely aware of how different our daughter's perspective will be from mine. As she grows, I am sure she will find that she has a lot more in common with her father. Already, he understands her world so much better. </p><p></p><p>I figure our individual diversity makes us understanding and yes, so tolerant. </p><p> Even though we may succumb to pettiness at times, a Sardar's heart is a big one, his generosity is vouched for. </p><p></p><p>I have yet to find a Sikh who will hold the colour of a man's skin against him and refuse help.</p><p></p><p>Our gurdwaras, as infested as they may be with politics, are still open to all. Even to our firmest critics.</p><p></p><p>There is a <em>saakhi</em>: Guru Nanak once visited a town of no-gooders. "<em>Vassey raho</em>," ('settle and flourish here') he said before leaving. Then he visited a town full of kind, pious souls. "<em>Ujjarrh jaao</em>," ('get uprooted'), is what he blessed them with this time around. </p><p> Bhai Mardana, his travelling disciple, turned to Nanak and asked, "You blessed the no-good ones and cursed the good. Why?"</p><p></p><p>Nanak replied: "If the no-gooders stay put, they will keep their evil amongst themselves. And the good ones will take their goodness and benevolence with them wherever they go. Thus, they will spread the love of God and make all who come their way cheerful!" </p><p></p><p>I'd like to think for all that we have endured as a people, we are all living out Guru Nanakji's blessing, carrying His fragrance with us wherever we go.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="spnadmin, post: 119201, member: 35"] [B]You Say Potato, I Say Pot-tah-toh ...by SANMEET KAUR[/B] Culture is a funny thing. For starters, the noun ‘culture' has more than ten meanings in the dictionary, and all ten of them could not be more different. Culture has everything covered, from art to zen. Suffice to say that even though the Sikh Diaspora is united by the word Sikh, the cultures we have assimilated throughout make us very, very different. Sardar T. Sher Singh recently wrote, "We are Sikh-American, Sikh-Canadian, Sikh-Briton, Sikh-Kiwi, Sikh-Indian, Sikh-Aussie, etc." Indeed we are - the Sikh Diaspora. I remember clearly the first meal I had as an about-to-be daughter-in-law. At any given point the first meal with your in-laws is a formidable experience. Add to that, I had heard a lot about my mother-in-law's cooking skills. Therefore, I was so mystified when I sat at the table to find a huge pot of chicken and cabbage soup and a tray of a whole boiled chicken. Accompanying the scrumptious layout was a plate of fresh [I]dhannia[/I] (cilantro) leaves and sliced cucumbers, soya sauce and chillies. I looked at my green and white feast, wondering where to begin. When my brother, Mr. Know-it-all, happily piped in: "O, Chicken-rice, Aunty! Delicious!" Naturally I thought, the better-traveled, better-read would know; I was struggling - you'd think Mr. Know-it-all would help? No! He was too busy eating. My fiancé's cousin graciously came to my rescue. And I still didn't get it right. Well! Now that I have finally ‘got' Chicken-rice, it is my favorite go-to food. Most people are surprised to learn that we cook mostly Malay-Chinese food at home. Well, if you were born and raised in Singapore, and so were your parents and your kids for a good measure, what would you be eating? It was definitely the ‘Sikh' in the diaspora that made our families think that we would make a good match. Him - a fourth-generation Singaporean, who had spent his formative years in Canada. Me - an out and out Bombay girl. It's not just the food. Given accents vary but so do vernacular quirks. Every relation - aunt, uncle, cousin - I've inherited from my marriage will end practically every sentence with the word (?) ‘La.' It always precedes the full-stop. E.g. "C'mon, la," or "I've already had my breakfast, la." At first it felt rather strange. Just like my Masar ji's Hindi-Punjabi, spoken with his Burmese accents, "[I]Assi[/I] late [I]ho[/I] [I]rahey hain, ham bol raha hai, tum sunnti[/I] [I]nahin hai,[/I]" while he's talking to my maasi. Early in my marriage, I found myself biting my tongue whenever the word, "[I]Insha-Allah[/I]" was on its tip. I could imagine my father-in-law shooting me a quizzical look. My paternal grandfather had set-up his business in Iran. First trading between Iran and Pakistan, and then between Iran and India. Since Bombay was his Indian base, our family was divided between the two. "[I]Insha Allah[/I]" ("God willing") is a pretty common phrase not just in Iran but also on my dad's side of the family. Mom and Dad were always very strict about us learning Punjabi - speaking, reading and writing. But all our schooling went to naught when my brother and I found ourselves slightly misplaced in Amritsar as kids. We knew that everyone was going to be at [I]Kesar da Dhaba[/I], a very famous local joint so it wasn't a big deal that we were left behind at Sri Harmandir Sahib. When we got out of the premises we asked for directions to the [I]Dhaba[/I] from a kind-looking young man. "[I]A-gaa ja ke, a-gaa, mur ke a-gaa[/I]..." he replied. After thanking him politely, I turned to my brother: "Did you get any of that?" I asked. Our impromptu guide had lost me at the second ‘a[I]-gaa'[/I] (ahead). "I think so," my brother replied, looking very unsure, "I just don't see any cows. (In crude Punjabi ‘a[I]-gaa[/I]' means ahead while ‘[I]gaa(n)[/I]' means cow.) Being neither here nor there, is a feeling I carry with me. I think it is because we are a people whose physical roots don't go deep. Both my grandfathers left Pakistan. One moved to Iran because of circumstances and the other Bihar, India. Later my maternal grandfather moved to Toronto in the early 1970s. My mother married in Bombay, I in Toronto. Three generations have covered six sets of longitudes and latitudes between them. There never was enough time to grow those roots. A rather comical irony of life was moving to Brampton post-marriage. I was expecting some culture shocks. But I did not know that most of them were going to be associated with re-learning my community and the way my people functioned. The gurdwaras here have a different ‘feel' to them. People dress differently and speak differently; their manners and mannerisms are all different. I learnt for the first time of [I]jutts[/I] and [I]biradaris[/I], that vegetarianism was an issue, [I]puggh[/I]-tying Sikh women, political correctness in Sikhism and Biker gangs. For the uninitiated, the ‘Bikers' are a group of elderly Sardars who ride (bicycles) usually in spring and summer. They get together at local parks to drink, play cards and generally catch up on the gossip. O, it is quite a sight to see [I]bhappa ji's[/I] ride with the wind (blowing through their long-flowing beards), [I]jholas[/I] hanging on the side. It portrays youthfulness, a zest of life that belies their age. I found that I barely understood any Punjabi spoken at the local gurdwara. I had never even heard many of the words. When folks talked to me, I would just smile sweetly. I did the same when a woman told me, "[I]Saade juvaakey saannoo nahin puchhdey[/I]" ('our children have abandoned us'). I never knew what [I]juvaakey[/I] (children) meant. Needless to say I felt horrible and totally inadequate when I found out to what I had responded with "Oh, wonderful!". Also very quickly, I found out that culturally my North American cousins and I have little in common. We often joke that they usually drop in to hang out with either my husband, brother-in-law or our three-year-old daughter. Needless to say that after almost seven years in Canada I now ‘get' some stuff ... My first Christmas in Canada was equally memorable. I was so excited. But then I've always needed the flimsiest of reasons to celebrate. I wanted to see the lights, the decorations and everything tinsel. My husband graciously agreed. But when it came to bringing home a tree, he put his foot down. "Why, we're not Christians," he said. I thought about all those years I had spent singing in the school Christmas Choir knowing full well what I was doing and that certainly did not make me Christian. I said as much but he was adamant. I relented. Gradually I realized the challenges of growing up in Canada. One of his closest friend's mother would routinely try to convert him to the 'Lord's way'. This was one way he had chosen to hold his own. In contrast, I had the security of growing up, knowing fully well that no one out there was judging me on a religious basis or trying to convert me. When it comes to our daughter, he will not think twice about getting a tree ‘when she asks for it.' "Let's not make a big deal out of it," he says. I'm beginning to think he's right. Already, she talks more about Santa than anyone else. I regret I may have something to do with this. I would like to see her equally excited about Guru Gobind Singh ji. But dashing as though He may be, He doesn't sit her on His lap and give her candy canes. So here we are. The three of us, an assimilation of a bit of Iran, a bit of Bihar, bigger bits of Bombay and Singapore and the biggest bit - Canada. I am acutely aware of how different our daughter's perspective will be from mine. As she grows, I am sure she will find that she has a lot more in common with her father. Already, he understands her world so much better. I figure our individual diversity makes us understanding and yes, so tolerant. Even though we may succumb to pettiness at times, a Sardar's heart is a big one, his generosity is vouched for. I have yet to find a Sikh who will hold the colour of a man's skin against him and refuse help. Our gurdwaras, as infested as they may be with politics, are still open to all. Even to our firmest critics. There is a [I]saakhi[/I]: Guru Nanak once visited a town of no-gooders. "[I]Vassey raho[/I]," ('settle and flourish here') he said before leaving. Then he visited a town full of kind, pious souls. "[I]Ujjarrh jaao[/I]," ('get uprooted'), is what he blessed them with this time around. Bhai Mardana, his travelling disciple, turned to Nanak and asked, "You blessed the no-good ones and cursed the good. Why?" Nanak replied: "If the no-gooders stay put, they will keep their evil amongst themselves. And the good ones will take their goodness and benevolence with them wherever they go. Thus, they will spread the love of God and make all who come their way cheerful!" I'd like to think for all that we have endured as a people, we are all living out Guru Nanakji's blessing, carrying His fragrance with us wherever we go. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Discussions
Sikh Sikhi Sikhism
You Say Potato, I Say Pot-tah-toh (from SikhChic)
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
Accept
Learn more…
Top