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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)
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Chhant (242-249)
Baavan Akhari (250-262)
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Thittee (296-300)
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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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Sikh Literature
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Empire Of The Sikhs: The Life And Times Of Maharaja Ranjit Singh
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<blockquote data-quote="spnadmin" data-source="post: 91310" data-attributes="member: 35"><p>Jeetijohal ji</p><p></p><p>You always manage to get me started on another investigation. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p><p></p><p>Here is something very interesting. There is another book -- about the son of Maharaja Ranjit Singh -- Prince Duplip Singh. The book is Exile by Navtej Sama. Below is an excerpt in the words of the prince about his short reunion with his mother.</p><p></p><p> <strong> <span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> Excerpts from The Exile</span></span></strong></p><p></p><p> <span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> Does it matter where one dies, in which country, which land? Does it matter at all if the last breath is drawn among your own people, friends and lovers, or among strangers, or completely alone? If you have not lived at home, perhaps there is no cause to die there. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And what is home? Where I was born, or where I lived all my life? Do I call </span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> Punjab</span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> my home, or </span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> England? If I had a choice, where would I want my bones to become dust, and would it matter? </span></span></span><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p> <span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">I know these things mattered to my mother. Bibiji. Beautiful Jindan, ruined by the same fate as I </span></span></span><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p> <span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> When I met my mother in </span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> Calcutta, after our separation of fourteen years, before she decided to come with me to England, her only wish was to pass her remaining days at some holy place on the banks of the Ganges. She would never have been at peace if I had let her bones lie in England, far away from the land of her ancestors. That is why I had to do what I did, carry her back across the seas, let the few fistfuls of her burnt-out remains flow into the Godavari. I could not immerse her ashes in the </span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> Ganges</span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> or the Sutlej</span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span> </p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And there is the memory of the light filtering through the filigree of marble on to the floor of the haveli, making patterns that I would step on and imagine myself dressed in a gown woven with light. I wondered then how the light came to us from so far away, how the sun rose and set. I’d asked Mangla once, and she had said, ‘Ask the Angrez and he’ll tell you his race controls it all.’ Or perhaps this never happened, perhaps it is only a false memory and I imagine this because the British certainly were to control all my days and nights, all my stars. My life, such as it was. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">From the window of Bibiji’s chamber the tall minarets of the Badshahi Mosque were clearly visible. When they fought each other for the throne after my father’s death, guns were mounted on those minarets and cannonballs flew over Hazuribagh and crashed into the Akbari gate. There was so much killing, Bibiji said, that rivers of blood flowed from the fort to the bazaar below and the people of </span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> Lahore</span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> covered their ears with their hands and shut their eyes and lowered their heads and waited, on their knees, for the nightmare to pass. </span></span><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span> </p><p> <span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"> Nobody will understand why I am dying like this, alone, in this small hotel room, in a beautiful but strange city, from where I can see only the edge of a narrow cobbled street below and a thin strip of sky. The buildings across the street seem close enough to touch. Why am I here, denied all the wide open spaces of my life . . . the wheat fields that stretched away into the distance below the Lahore fort, the rolling countryside of Elveden?</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">words of Prince Dulip Singh</span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue"><span style="color: black"><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="spnadmin, post: 91310, member: 35"] Jeetijohal ji You always manage to get me started on another investigation. :) Here is something very interesting. There is another book -- about the son of Maharaja Ranjit Singh -- Prince Duplip Singh. The book is Exile by Navtej Sama. Below is an excerpt in the words of the prince about his short reunion with his mother. [B] [COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] Excerpts from The Exile[/FONT][/COLOR][/B] [COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] Does it matter where one dies, in which country, which land? Does it matter at all if the last breath is drawn among your own people, friends and lovers, or among strangers, or completely alone? If you have not lived at home, perhaps there is no cause to die there. [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR] [COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial]And what is home? Where I was born, or where I lived all my life? Do I call [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] Punjab[/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] my home, or [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] England? If I had a choice, where would I want my bones to become dust, and would it matter? [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR][COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR] [COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial]I know these things mattered to my mother. Bibiji. Beautiful Jindan, ruined by the same fate as I [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR][COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR] [COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] When I met my mother in [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] Calcutta, after our separation of fourteen years, before she decided to come with me to England, her only wish was to pass her remaining days at some holy place on the banks of the Ganges. She would never have been at peace if I had let her bones lie in England, far away from the land of her ancestors. That is why I had to do what I did, carry her back across the seas, let the few fistfuls of her burnt-out remains flow into the Godavari. I could not immerse her ashes in the [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] Ganges[/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] or the Sutlej[/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial]. [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR] [COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial]And there is the memory of the light filtering through the filigree of marble on to the floor of the haveli, making patterns that I would step on and imagine myself dressed in a gown woven with light. I wondered then how the light came to us from so far away, how the sun rose and set. I’d asked Mangla once, and she had said, ‘Ask the Angrez and he’ll tell you his race controls it all.’ Or perhaps this never happened, perhaps it is only a false memory and I imagine this because the British certainly were to control all my days and nights, all my stars. My life, such as it was. [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR] [COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial]From the window of Bibiji’s chamber the tall minarets of the Badshahi Mosque were clearly visible. When they fought each other for the throne after my father’s death, guns were mounted on those minarets and cannonballs flew over Hazuribagh and crashed into the Akbari gate. There was so much killing, Bibiji said, that rivers of blood flowed from the fort to the bazaar below and the people of [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] Lahore[/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] covered their ears with their hands and shut their eyes and lowered their heads and waited, on their knees, for the nightmare to pass. [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR] [COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][COLOR=black][FONT=Arial] Nobody will understand why I am dying like this, alone, in this small hotel room, in a beautiful but strange city, from where I can see only the edge of a narrow cobbled street below and a thin strip of sky. The buildings across the street seem close enough to touch. Why am I here, denied all the wide open spaces of my life . . . the wheat fields that stretched away into the distance below the Lahore fort, the rolling countryside of Elveden? words of Prince Dulip Singh [/FONT][/COLOR][/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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Empire Of The Sikhs: The Life And Times Of Maharaja Ranjit Singh
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