naü dar ṭhāke hukami sacai hansu gaïā gaiṇāre.
sādhan chuṭī muṭhī jhūṭhi vidhaṇīā mirtakṛā aṅṅanṛe bāre.
surati muī maru māīe mahal runnī dar bāre.
rovahu kant mahelīho sace ke guṇ sāre.5.
-Guru Granth Sahib 580
This composition is based on the Panjabi folk poetic form Alahania related to death. In the first and second stanzas, the glory of IkOankar (the Divine) is described. In the third, the state of a being trapped in vices is portrayed. In the fourth, the being is consoled by showing death to be occurring under the command of IkOankar. In the fifth and sixth, the state of a being in this world and in the Court after death is described. In the seventh, by depicting the regret of a being who has spent their life in vain, there is advice to reflect and remember IkOankar. In the eighth, a happy and pleasant state of the being connected with the Wisdom (Guru) is presented.
Commentary
Literal Translation
Interpretive Transcreation
Poetical Dimension
Calligraphy
In the fifth stanza, Guru Nanak describes what happens when the being’s life-force departs from the body. The Guru says the nine doors of the body were closed under the Command of the Eternal. The swan went into the sky. All the senses and body parts cease to function – this, too, is part of the Command of IkOankar (One Creative and Pervasive Force, 1Force, the One). The body is no longer a home for the life-force, so the hans, the swan-like life-force, leaves the body and goes into the sky. The friends and spouses all cry. All the people we leave behind, deceived due to attachment to the material world and relationships, are left alone. The body, emptied of its life-force, is kept at the door of the courtyard, and the spouse sits at the door, crying, saying, O my mother! Seeing the death of my spouse, my consciousness has stopped working. It is as if I am dead, too. The Guru explores this common experience and urges all of us human-brides, all of us seekers of union with the Creator-Groom, if you are going to cry, cry having cared for the virtues of the true One, having contemplated the virtues of the Eternal.
The Guru shows us that our own experiences are universal and part of the larger Command. The way that death happens might manifest slightly differently from person to person—some might go quickly, others might go slowly—but the basic functions of that process are the same regardless of how we die. Our own lies, our own illusions about this world being anything but temporary, and our own understanding of our material relationships as eternal hit us like a ton of bricks when the people we love leave us. We feel masterless; we feel without a consciousness. We feel that we are walking through this world like ghosts, alone. We feel robbed of the body. We feel that it is as if we have been looted or cheated. While acknowledging this, the Guru is asking us to understand that this emotional response to loss is one rooted in our own misconceptions, our own lack of understanding, and our own false notions of what it means to be alive and in relationship with one another. If we can understand death as part of the larger Command, the body as temporary, and our relationships as not ‘ours’ to begin with, we will find that this pain lessens.
The advice from the Guru is simple: instead of crying for this temporary thing, why don’t we cry for the eternal One, the One who will last with us forever, the One whom we ought to have a relationship with if we want to come to understand death and loss and grief. Let us cry out of separation from the One, not separation from our bodies or from the bodies of our loved ones. Will we spend these lives immersed in falsehood, or will we spend them caring for the virtues of the eternal IkOankar? Will we invite more love and more softness within us, or will we continue to build on our grief and our pain? When we do cry, what will it be for?
The Guru shows us that our own experiences are universal and part of the larger Command. The way that death happens might manifest slightly differently from person to person—some might go quickly, others might go slowly—but the basic functions of that process are the same regardless of how we die. Our own lies, our own illusions about this world being anything but temporary, and our own understanding of our material relationships as eternal hit us like a ton of bricks when the people we love leave us. We feel masterless; we feel without a consciousness. We feel that we are walking through this world like ghosts, alone. We feel robbed of the body. We feel that it is as if we have been looted or cheated. While acknowledging this, the Guru is asking us to understand that this emotional response to loss is one rooted in our own misconceptions, our own lack of understanding, and our own false notions of what it means to be alive and in relationship with one another. If we can understand death as part of the larger Command, the body as temporary, and our relationships as not ‘ours’ to begin with, we will find that this pain lessens.
The advice from the Guru is simple: instead of crying for this temporary thing, why don’t we cry for the eternal One, the One who will last with us forever, the One whom we ought to have a relationship with if we want to come to understand death and loss and grief. Let us cry out of separation from the One, not separation from our bodies or from the bodies of our loved ones. Will we spend these lives immersed in falsehood, or will we spend them caring for the virtues of the eternal IkOankar? Will we invite more love and more softness within us, or will we continue to build on our grief and our pain? When we do cry, what will it be for?
