tilaṅg mahalā 9 kāphī
ikoaṅkār satigur prasādi.
cetnā hai taü cet lai nisi dini mai prānī.
chinu chinu aüdh bihātu hai phūṭai ghaṭ jiu pānī.1. rahāu.
hari gun kāhi na gāvahī mūrakh agiānā.
jhūṭhai lālaci lāgi kai nahi maranu pachānā.1.
ajhū kachu bigrio nahī jo prabh gun gāvai.
kahu nānak tih bhajan te nirbhai padu pāvai.2.1.
-Guru Granth Sahib 726
Guru Teghbahadar Sahib warns that just as water from the cracked pitcher seeps perpetually, the years of human life also continue to diminish. In light of this sheer mortality, seekers are advised to abandon neglect and engage in remembrance of IkOankar (the Divine). It is only through remembrance that one can live a fearless life. This Sabad encourages seekers to remember IkOankar in light of the transience of human life.
Commentary
Literal Translation
Interpretive Transcreation
Poetical Dimension
Calligraphy
The rag (musical mode) that this composition is set in is used to evoke a mood of joy, enthusiasm, and positivity. In Hindustani and Carnatic music, it is used to evoke a light and fun mood. Guru Teghbahadar uses this musical mode to talk about what is happening with us. All three Tilang compositions have the same theme: our lives are decreasing with every moment, but even with this knowledge, we still are not devoted to the One. In the first composition, Guru Teghbahadar says: If there is awareness then remember night and day, O being! Life is passing away moment by moment, like water from a cracked pitcher. The Guru reminds us that if we really want to live in remembrance, or live consciously, then we ought to be in remembrance. We ought to be conscious. To live in this remembrance requires us to remember day and night. It is not a thing we can do once and then do again weeks later. It must be constant. Because this life is passing away from us with each moment, like water from a cracked pitcher. The pitcher imagery is important here. Water in a cracked clay pitcher does not leak out in a steady stream. Maybe the clay is old or not as baked as it needed to be or maybe it is falling apart. The water inside of it accumulates and soaks into the sides of the pitcher. It comes out in tiny droplets until eventually the pot cracks even more under the pressure of the accumulated water. Before the pot breaks, we cannot tell that it is going to happen. We do not see the water seeping through the clay as a leak. We do not realize until it is too late. This is how we view our quickly passing lifespans. Day to day we do not notice the passing of time. We may not even notice it month to month. But as years pass in the blink of an eye we suddenly turn around and see how much time has flown, and we are always surprised by it. When we see decades pass, we panic, but still we convince ourselves that there is plenty of time.
O being! Life is passing away moment by moment, like water from a cracked pitcher. The Guru is asking us to think about this: Instead of life constantly seeping out of the “pitcher,” what can we bring into it? We can sing the virtues of the 1-Light. And knowing that time passes this quickly, why would we not sing the virtues? We do not sing the virtues because we are caught up in lies and greed and we are not recognizing death. We actually are unable to recognize death because we are so consumed with our lies and greed. This is really what makes a person ignorant or lacking insight -- it is not a lack of education or a lack of knowledge, it is a lack of acknowledgement of death, that it is coming and that it is here. The starkness that the Guru employs in calling us foolish and ignorant is relatable, because we know what ails us. And still we do nothing.
O being! Life is passing away moment by moment, like water from a cracked pitcher. But before we can get into an endless spiral of self-pity and hopelessness about our condition, the Guru brings us a clear sense of hope. This is where the tone change comes, encouragement that we still have a chance, that it is not too late to change our behaviors. It is not too late to sing the virtues of the One, to fill our minds with praise of the One. Things may look dark, but, the Guru says, it is okay, let us sing. Let us not dwell on how much time we have lost. Let us do something that is beyond cognition, a deep kind of devotion, a praise that moves us into the state of fearlessness, a singing that causes us to become carefree. The concern does not need to be about what will happen, where we will end up when this is all over, or what we have or have not done up to this point. It is about existing in a state of fearlessness.
The composition heading has the word kafi written at the end. In addition to a reference to a musical mode, is it also indicating a kind of folk music common in the Panjab among Sufis and Sindhis, a carefree mode of singing that carries the people, that is positive even when a situation is bad? Is this composition the Guru’s version of kafi for us, something that can bring us into joy and fearlessness even as we know we have spent our ever-waning lives in greed? What will we do with these lives as they dwindle? Will we sing the virtues of the 1-Light? Will we feel the singing transform us? Will we become hopeful and carefree?
O being! Life is passing away moment by moment, like water from a cracked pitcher. The Guru is asking us to think about this: Instead of life constantly seeping out of the “pitcher,” what can we bring into it? We can sing the virtues of the 1-Light. And knowing that time passes this quickly, why would we not sing the virtues? We do not sing the virtues because we are caught up in lies and greed and we are not recognizing death. We actually are unable to recognize death because we are so consumed with our lies and greed. This is really what makes a person ignorant or lacking insight -- it is not a lack of education or a lack of knowledge, it is a lack of acknowledgement of death, that it is coming and that it is here. The starkness that the Guru employs in calling us foolish and ignorant is relatable, because we know what ails us. And still we do nothing.
O being! Life is passing away moment by moment, like water from a cracked pitcher. But before we can get into an endless spiral of self-pity and hopelessness about our condition, the Guru brings us a clear sense of hope. This is where the tone change comes, encouragement that we still have a chance, that it is not too late to change our behaviors. It is not too late to sing the virtues of the One, to fill our minds with praise of the One. Things may look dark, but, the Guru says, it is okay, let us sing. Let us not dwell on how much time we have lost. Let us do something that is beyond cognition, a deep kind of devotion, a praise that moves us into the state of fearlessness, a singing that causes us to become carefree. The concern does not need to be about what will happen, where we will end up when this is all over, or what we have or have not done up to this point. It is about existing in a state of fearlessness.
The composition heading has the word kafi written at the end. In addition to a reference to a musical mode, is it also indicating a kind of folk music common in the Panjab among Sufis and Sindhis, a carefree mode of singing that carries the people, that is positive even when a situation is bad? Is this composition the Guru’s version of kafi for us, something that can bring us into joy and fearlessness even as we know we have spent our ever-waning lives in greed? What will we do with these lives as they dwindle? Will we sing the virtues of the 1-Light? Will we feel the singing transform us? Will we become hopeful and carefree?
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