3 182202729 1988
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 
 SAN DIEGO 
 
 ^^j ' i i *" ' '
 
 NIVERSITY OF CAL'FORNJft 
 
 1988 r
 
 THE SISTERS 
 OF THE SPINNING WHEEL
 
 THE SISTERS 
 
 of the 
 
 WHEEL 
 
 and other Sikh Toems 
 Original and Translated 
 
 By 
 
 PUR AN SINGH 
 
 With an Introduction 
 
 by 
 ERNEST & GRACE RHTS 
 
 1921 
 
 LONDON y TORONTO 
 J. M. DENT & SONS LTD. 
 NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON 6f CO.
 
 All rights reserved
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 I 
 
 THIS book of Puran Singh's poems is the latest offspring 
 from a famous old root. It is founded on the Granth 
 Sahib, and most of the songs that follow are in one 
 way or another derived from that inspired book, which 
 has sometimes been called the Sikh Bible. But as that 
 is the youngest of the bibles, so these songs and lyrics 
 are re-charged, we shall find, by the spirit of youth in 
 poesy. It may be that the ideas, images and figurative 
 expressions in these poems are often openly borrowed, 
 and a fairly close transcript of certain passages may 
 even at times be given. But whether the rendering 
 be close or free, the religious emotion is always in 
 essence the same, and it is always authentic. It runs 
 right through the songs from beginning to end, and 
 no reader can fail to be touched by its sincerity, grace 
 and fervour, 
 
 English versions of the Granth Sahib have already 
 been given to the public in the six volumes of Mr. 
 M. A. Macauliffe's remarkable work on The Sikh 
 Religion, and with his versions any reader who likes 
 can compare Mr. Puran Singh's poems, and will find 
 the comparison most interesting. In The Sisters of 
 the Spinning Wheel we have a living emotional verse 
 that conveys the ecstatic mood of the original, while it
 
 vi SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 adds a new impulse to the old one. In the other work 
 we have a series of careful scholarly translations, 
 faithfully rendering the Indian texts. 
 
 It was Rabindranath Tagore who carried over into 
 the English tongue with a new power and melody the 
 first convincing strains of Bengali poetry. Puran Singh 
 has fortunately something of the same gift, and his 
 music too freely naturalises itself in the English medium 
 and makes good its accent, and one soon becomes aware 
 of its living charm. Later, the spirit of his poetry is 
 seen to involve a rare sense of delight in devotion, and 
 the closer thought one brings to bear upon it the 
 profounder its effect. All the evidences of a high 
 spiritual ancestry are joined to the fine pageantry 
 of the Eastern world that glows in the page. 
 
 The figured reality in this pageant carries us far, 
 and uses vivid symbolism, to interpret the region of its 
 imagination. The set symbol is the key to an ever 
 widening world. The songs that open this fair region 
 to us we may call parable, or picture, poems; and 
 we shall find in reading them, that their mode often 
 recalls that of other parable-makers. It was the method 
 of many Eastern teachers; nay, was it not the method 
 consecrated by Christ himself ? 
 
 In other poems like " Simran," on the other hand, 
 the thought, the inner ecstasy, is directly expressed 
 without any aid to the imagination, without any ascent 
 from the real to prepare the approach. And these we 
 may term songs of worship. 
 
 No doubt some unevenness of workmanship was 
 bound to result from this double method. It was at 
 first thought it might be wiser to divide the poems
 
 INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 into two definite groups; but afterwards it was felt 
 that the very irregularity lent a certain charm to the 
 sequence: something like that which we find in a 
 necklace of gems of different values, colours, shapes 
 and sizes, strung on the one golden thread. 
 
 Perhaps the only serious difficulty that will be felt 
 by the Western reader in understanding Puran Singh's 
 book is the obscurity caused by the identification of the 
 Guru, the earthly Master or teacher with the Almighty 
 Father, the Guru Who is above all. The same word is 
 often used for both. The passion of love for the Master 
 who in himself unites God and man is expressed in a 
 hundred ways throughout the book most memorably 
 in the remarkable poem, " A Turbanned Man." 
 
 This passion melts by degrees into the adoration of 
 the Eternal One, and bound up with the worship of 
 the spirit of God incarnate in the Guru, the Master and 
 Teacher, is the worship of the Name of God. It is 
 believed that an entrance into the presence and the 
 heart of God can be made by the use of the symbol of 
 his Name the key, as it were, that admits us into 
 his kingdom. This is that NAM, which will be found 
 throughout the book. Nam stands both for the name 
 of God, and for the union with God, to be attained by 
 the devout repetition of His name. It is akin to the 
 " calling upon God " mentioned in our own Bible. 
 The word Nam is an old Sanskrit word and is actually 
 the same as our "name"; the Latin no men and the 
 Greek ovo//,a come from the same root. All through the 
 book Nam, the Name, is used as the Symbol of God, 
 exactly as Aoyos, the Word, occurs in the Gospel of 
 St. John. " And the Word was with God, and the Word
 
 viii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 was God." In the poem called " Guru Nanak " we 
 find it written : " It is true for us for ever, God 
 himself cometh to man in the shape of Man who 
 spells Him for us: this is Nam. He is the sign and 
 symbol." 
 
 The poem called " Nam, the Name of the Infinite " 
 needs to be specially studied in relation to this divine 
 invocation. Also the poem " Guru Nanak " already 
 mentioned, for that touches another difficulty that 
 may affect Western readers the passing of Spirit 
 from one Guru or Prophet-Teacher of the Sikhs to 
 another. This poem reminds one (though with a differ- 
 ence) of the Hebrew pedigree chants. It is a poetic 
 recital of the descent of prophetic inspiration through 
 the great leaders of the Sikh religion. So the Christian 
 plenary inspiration, we may recall, was supposed to 
 descend through the apostles. In the case of the Sikhs, 
 however, the succession depended not on any direct 
 election, but on a sort of spiritual elective fatherhood 
 in each succeeding Guru, very much as, in our Bible, 
 the Mantle of Elijah fell upon Elisha. Into each new 
 Guru passed the spirit of him that was gone; each 
 Guru in turn added to the Scriptures, if that special 
 gift were his. 
 
 II 
 
 Until recent years, when Mr. Macauliffe's work 
 appeared, most of us were ignorant of the life and 
 literature of the Sikhs. They were a people welded 
 together by no community of blood or race, but were 
 at first solely a religious community: afterwards a
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 religious and propertied community, and finally by 
 virtue of a curious necessity a sect as military as 
 religious. The founder of the sect was a simple village 
 lad, called Nanak, born at Talwandi in the Lahore 
 district of the Pnjaub, A.D. 1469. 
 
 Nanak was a strange boy; he existed in the remote 
 world of his own thought and imagination. He was 
 the despair of his parents as many another dreaming 
 incomprehensible child has been. He grew up sur- 
 rounded by the usual picturesque beliefs and symbolic 
 worships common to all primitive peoples in an earlier 
 world. Almost from his cradle he seemed to take his 
 own way. He lived, as he grew up, detached from the 
 religious practices that went on about him. A pretty 
 fable is told of his boyhood. He was sent out one 
 Monday by his parents to herd some buffaloes on the 
 plain, and he lay down under the shadow of a tree and 
 soon became lost in his own thoughts. The herd 
 wandered away: he never moved. In the late after- 
 noon the villagers came out to look for him; and there 
 he lay, reflecting silently: but behold the tree still cast 
 its morning shadow over the young saint's head. It 
 had never moved with the moving sun. 
 
 Whether the shadow moved or not is quite immaterial. 
 The true miracle was the young lad's thought beneath 
 the tree. He had to think himself out of ignorance, 
 out of idol-worship and sacrifice, out of bigotry and 
 prejudice, out of the stony prison of caste, out of every 
 chain ever forged by his fellow men to enslave the mind. 
 In the end, he achieved a perfect freedom. He dis- 
 covered for himself the religion of love, of union with 
 the spirit of God; the universal religion which is
 
 x SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 being slowly welded together out of the chaos of men's 
 diverse imaginings. Nanak's religion, framed in utter 
 loneliness, face to face with the God in nature and the 
 God in his own soul, is the religion of many Western 
 thinkers to-day because it realises the central truth 
 that is at the basis of all religion. 
 
 The village of Talwandi was surrounded by forests; 
 Nanak who was already a poet passed much of his 
 time there. After various unsuccessful attempts to 
 earn his own living, he went as storekeeper to the 
 governor of Sultanpur. To the astonishment of every- 
 one he proved to be a jewel among store-keepers. He 
 rose before dawn, bathed and prayed, and came like 
 a fresh spirit of grace to weigh out salt and seed and 
 tummeric and pepper. In justice and courtesy he was 
 the same to rich and poor. He lived sparingly and all 
 the money he received he gave to those who were in 
 want. Mardana the rebeck-player came to him out 
 of Talwandi: and when Mardana played one of the 
 thirty-one measures Nanak would sing to it one of his 
 own songs full of wisdom and strange meaning. Such 
 a store-keeper never was and all men spoke well of 
 him and depended upon him. But the saints are in- 
 calculable folk: one day Nanak disappeared into the 
 forest. There during three days and nights he had a 
 new and deeper vision of God; when he came forth 
 again his store-keeping was over. Henceforth he was 
 to be a dealer in the lives of men, the founder not only 
 of a religion but of a people. With Mardana he wandered 
 through India chanting his strange new songs to the 
 old measures of Indian music. Carried on the familiar 
 sounds and rhythms, the new meanings glided into
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 the understandings of the people and captured them 
 before they were aware. 
 
 His chief message was the joy of pure union with the 
 spirit of God. His second was the equality of all men 
 and women before God. He preached universal brother- 
 hood; he often reminds one of Walt Whitman in his 
 feeling for the greatness of the people, and at times 
 by the very rhythm of his prophetic verse. But it was 
 no free people to whom Nanak addressed himself. 
 Not even in the Byzantine Empire were the partitions 
 of caste as strong as in India, where like iron walls 
 they divided the different classes. With deed and 
 piercing word Nanak attacked these powerful Taboos. 
 
 On coming to Saiyidhpur he went to stay in the house 
 of a just man, a carpenter called Lalo. People cried 
 out upon him because Lalo was of lower caste than his. 
 Nanak took no notice and continued to eat with Lalo 
 instead of in a separate place by himself. Soon after 
 a rich and powerful man, Malik, gave a great feast; 
 Nanak refused to go. Malik ordered him to be brought be- 
 fore him and reproved him for his double offence. Nanak 
 then asked Malik for a piece of his bread arid sent Lalo 
 for a piece of his. Nanak then took a piece of Lalo's 
 coarse bread in his right hand and a piece of Malik's 
 fine white bread in his left. He squeezed them both. 
 From Lalo's bread there issued milk, from Malik's 
 came forth blood; the interpretation of which is that 
 Nanak pronounced the bread of the carpenter pure, 
 that of the rich man stained by oppression and cruelty. 
 So fearless was Nanak! Small wonder that his Sikhs 
 for hundreds of years have proved themselves bravest 
 of the brave. But no valour in battle can equal the
 
 xii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 courage of Nanak when he refused to sit and eat 
 unclean bread at the rich man's table. 
 
 On another day he attacked the pride of caste shown 
 by the Brahmans. When a Brahman wants to eat he 
 draws a square upon the ground and makes his cooking 
 place within the lines, and thus comfortably entrenched 
 eats his meal. Wanting some lighted brands for his 
 own cooking, Nanak stepped within a Brahman's 
 cooking square and helped himself. The Brahman 
 loudly objected and complained that Nanak had defiled 
 his food. Nanak, who knew what sort of man the Brah- 
 man was, answered that it had already been denied. 
 And he spoke these lines : 
 
 Evil mindedness is a low woman, cruelty a butcher's wife, a. 
 
 slanderous heart a sweeper woman, wrath which ruineth 
 
 the .world, a pariah woman. 
 What availeth thee to have drawn the lines of thy cooking 
 
 place when these four are seated within at the meal with 
 
 thee? 
 
 Nanak was an artist as well as a reformer. His weapon 
 was verse of terrible force, delightfully chanted to 
 familiar rhythms that lived in the people's ears. Many 
 oddly invented miracles are recounted of him, but 
 what miracle could be more astonishing than the 
 immortalising of that Brahman and the four terrible 
 guests within his sanctimonious cooking-square by the 
 peasant boy from the forest land of Talwandi ? 
 
 Although he knew how to be severe he was seldom so. 
 He had a charming way with him, and learnt how to 
 turn men from their hardest purposes and make them 
 his reverent disciples. As an illustration of this method 
 one might tell of the very rich Duni Chand who asked 
 the Guru to his house and treated him with much
 
 INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 affection. Nanak noticed that the house was stuck over 
 with flags, and when he inquired what they might mean 
 he was told that each flag stood for a lakh of rupees 
 that the master had gained. Nanak then politely 
 handed Duni a needle and bade him keep it until he 
 asked for it in the next world. The foolish Duni took 
 the needle to his wife and told her to put it by. " How 
 can a needle enter the next world, said she. " Go and 
 return it to the Guru." Duni Chand carried his wife's 
 message to the Guru, who said: " If such a small 
 and light thing as a needle cannot go to the next world, 
 how can thy wealth reach there ? " Duni Chand fell 
 at his feet and prayed to know how his wealth might 
 accompany him. Nanak answered, " Give some of it 
 in God's name, feed the poor and that portion shall 
 accompany thee." 
 
 After this Duni became his disciple and learned of him. 
 
 In common with all the great Saints of the Celtic 
 and other Churches we find in Nanak a passionate love 
 for nature and the open sky. When asked by the 
 Brahmans to worship in their magnificent temple, 
 Nanak composed one of his noblest poems by way of 
 answer. Here are two verses of it : 
 
 The sun and moon, O Lord, are Thy lamps, the firmament Thy 
 salver; the orbs of the stars the pearls enchased in it; 
 
 The perfume of the sandal is Thine incense; the wind is Thy 
 fan; all the forests are Thy flowers, O Lord of Light. 
 
 Puran Singh's version of this poem will be found on 
 a later page. 
 
 It is a poem much venerated in the original and often 
 translated. It is, however, as difficult to translate as one 
 of Heine's lyrics, or a mediaeval Welsh ode. For the
 
 xiv SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 "benefit of those who care to study this famous poem 
 more closely let us add that in the temple of Vishnu 
 or Jugannath lamps were lit for the evening worship, 
 and offerings made on salvers studded with pearls. 
 Flowers and incense were placed on the salvers, fans 
 were used to make the incense burn. The whole 
 ceremonial was gorgeous, but Nanak worshipped best 
 under the open sky. 
 
 Nanak was strangely gifted: there can be no doubt 
 that in addition to the powerful brain, the warm heart, 
 the poet's tongue, and the many spiritual gifts which 
 were his, the hypnotic faculty was added as well. 
 Numberless miracles grew up about his personality: 
 among them are indisputable facts, natural miracles 
 that could only have been brought about by powers of 
 unusual quality. 
 
 He foretold the coming of the terrible Babar who 
 laid waste the north of India; and more especially the 
 destruction of Sayidhpur. 
 
 Bringing a wedding procession of sin, Babar hath hasted from 
 Kabul and demandeth wealth as his bride. 
 
 Soon afterwards Babar took and destroyed the city 
 of Saiyidhpur where Nanak was staying. All the country 
 far and wide was devastated and the people, both Hindu 
 and Mussulman, were massacred. Nanak was imprisoned 
 at first and then set to carrying loads as a slave. One 
 day when carrying a bundle on his head, he met his 
 disciple Mardana, now serving his new masters as groom 
 and leading a horse. They walked together a little way 
 and then there passed by a little company of women, 
 slaves of the conquerors, weeping and wailing aloud 
 in their misery. Mardana asked his master what ailed
 
 INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 them. " Take your rebeck and play a tune for me,*' 
 said the Master, " and I will sing to you the meaning 
 of their woe." 
 
 " I cannot play the rebeck," said Mardana, " for 
 I must use both my hands to hold this horse." " Say 
 the Glory to God; let go the bridle and play," said the 
 Master. Mardana obeyed, and the horse followed of 
 its own will behind while the master sang to the rebeck 
 the famous lament: 
 
 They whcf.wore beautiful tresses and the partings of whose 
 
 hair were touched with vermilion, 
 Have their locks now shorn with the scissors: dust is thrown 
 
 upon their heads. 
 
 Now chains are on their necks and broken are their strings of 
 pearls. 
 
 One of the terrible Babar's officers saw the two as 
 they went along, making music while the horse followed 
 behind. Above Nanak's head hung his burden suspended 
 in the air. When the emperor heard of this strange 
 spectacle he said that had he known that such holy 
 men lived in the city he would not have destroyed it. 
 In the end he bowed himself before Nanak the slave 
 and granted him the lives of his captives and clothed 
 them in robes of honour. Such are the undoubted 
 miracles worked by the saint. Only the floating bundle 
 appears apocryphal, though it should be said such 
 strange appearances can be produced in India to-day 
 by magicians who have that particular faculty. 
 
 Nanak had a noble conception of women and stood 
 as their defenders against the contempt so often poured 
 upon them by weaker men. He was especially a liberator. 
 The Brahmans forbade the instruction of all women
 
 xvi SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 and of men of low caste in their Scriptures Religion 
 was for the ruling male alone. In the words of Guru 
 Amar Das: " Guru Nanak composed his hymns in the 
 language of the people and wrote them in the ordinary 
 characters so that men and women of all castes and 
 classes might read and understand them." 
 
 Natural and simple in all things, the Sikh religion 
 allowed marriage; most of the Gurus had one wife or 
 none. The veiling and immuring of women was strictly 
 forbidden by them. A Guru was once visited by the 
 emperor's wives: only one, the youngest, kept her face 
 veiled. " Mad Lady," said the Guru, " If thou likest 
 not the Guru's face wherefore are thou come hither to 
 gaze upon him ? " And the young woman immediately 
 became mad and ran to the forest casting away her 
 raiment, till presently healed by the Guru. Nowhere 
 is it suggested in the Sikh scriptures that a woman's 
 God is her husband. On the contrary the Gurus directed 
 the woman's thoughts upward to the worship of the 
 one true God. It is told of Guru Teg Bahadur that 
 knowing that a Matron of Dhaka had long earnestly 
 desired to see him, he set out alone to her house. He 
 called to her from outside and she was overjoyed and 
 ran to meet him and prostrated herself at his feet. Then 
 she led him in, seated him on a beautiful couch she 
 had prepared, dressed him in cloth spun and woven 
 by herself, and gave him a fine meal prepared by her 
 own hands. The Guru told her to ask a favour; she 
 answered that all she wished was to remain ever near 
 him. He answered that she might behold him when- 
 ever, after bathing, she deeply meditated on God, 
 directed her love to His lotus feet and repeated His
 
 INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 true name. There is a difference in this point between 
 the atmosphere of the Granth Sahib and that of Puran 
 Singh's book. The emotions are softer and more sensuous 
 in the latter, the flavour of the poems is more Eastern, 
 less modern. 
 
 Nanak laid great stress upon one point, upon which 
 most of us, to-day, are in agreement. " Whoever," 
 says he, " a watch before day, bathes in cold water and 
 repeats God's name with love and devotion, shall 
 receive nectar at God's door and be blended with him 
 who is unborn and self -existent." 
 
 Of caste he says: 
 
 I have reduced my inind to the caste of fire and wind. 
 
 A most memorable saying. 
 
 Of the troubles of the world he says : 
 
 There are continual showers, squalls and threats; hundreds of 
 
 thousands of waves succeed one another, 
 Address the True God and there shall be no fear that thy boat 
 
 shall go down. 
 
 He also says: 
 
 Abide pure among the impurities of this world so shalt thou 
 find the way of religion. 
 
 A pious priest of Lahore brought Arjan a poem 
 abusing women which began : 
 
 Look thou not on woman even though she be cut out of paper, 
 
 to be included in the Granth Sahib. Arjan refused it, 
 saying Nanak had said home life was the best of all. 
 
 The end of Guru Nanak was in keeping with his life. 
 When it was known that he must die, he appointed 
 Guru Angad as his successor. He continued to teach 
 B
 
 xviii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 his simple and profound lessons to the crowds who 
 visited him. His Mussulman followers begged for leave 
 to bury him; his Hindus wanted to cremate him. 
 The Guru said, " Let the Hindus place flowers on my 
 right, and the Mussulmans on my left. They whose 
 flowers are found fresh in the morning may do what 
 they will with my body." 
 
 Then the Master told them to sing the noble psalm 
 which ends: 
 
 Remember the Caller: the day is approaching 
 and then the couplet: 
 
 They who have pondered on the Name of God and departed 
 
 after the completion of their toil 
 Shall have their countenances made bright; how many shall 
 
 be set free in company with them ! 
 
 The Master then drew the sheet over his head, uttered 
 the " Glory to God " and made obeisance to Him and 
 blended his light with Guru Angad's. 
 
 When the sheet was lifted next morning there was 
 nothing found beneath it. The flowers on both sides 
 were in bloom. 
 
 Such was the founder of the Sikh religion and such the 
 manner of its founding. There were in all ten prophets 
 in this strange dynasty. The first three teachers were 
 quietists; men who were lovers of God and lovers 
 of freedom Nanak, Angad, and Amar Das. 
 
 Guru Angad was the beloved disciple of Nanak. When 
 Guru Nanak died so great was Angad's grief that he 
 went and lived alone in a little hut for six months. 
 When his Sikhs came to find him, his love and his
 
 INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 sorrow got the better of his piety and he repeated aloud 
 the following sl5k, or couplet : 
 
 Die before the dear one thou lovest 
 
 To live after him in the world is a curse to life. 
 
 He then took his seat as Guru among the people and 
 taught and explained Nanak's hymns. He used the 
 changing play of the life about him as material for his 
 teaching. When watching the children at play he would 
 tell his Sikhs they should be as pure and simple in heart 
 as children, and then would they be dear to their 
 Creator. He used sometimes to watch the wrestling 
 matches in the early afternoons and there he would 
 talk to the lookers-on, telling them how they might 
 overcome anger and other deadly sins. 
 
 Presently a disciple came to him upon whom the 
 mantle of the leadership of the Sikhs was to descend. 
 This was Amar Das, born in the year 1479. He was 
 a youth of gentle mind, who had a natural insight 
 into the truth of things, and found himself therefore 
 lonely in life; he longed for a religious teaching to 
 fit his particular need, but could find no saint to his 
 mind. " How can the lotus bloom without sight of the 
 sun," he asked, " and how can a man get salvation 
 without a teacher ? " He was sunk more and more in 
 sadness when one morning early he heard a sweet voice 
 sing a beautiful chant. This was the voice of Guru 
 Angad's young daughter who had lately married Amar 
 Das's nephew. This girl used to get up a watch before 
 daybreak, bathe, chant the hymns of Guru Nanak, 
 and then make butter for the family. Heavenly butter 
 it must have been, made by so sweet a saint. 
 
 Amar Das went to the girl and asked her to sing her
 
 song again. She did so and then taught it him, telling 
 him of her father Angad and of Guru Nanak and his 
 faith. Presently the two set out together to find Angad 
 and on seeing him Amar Das fell at his feet. 
 
 Guru Angad set himself to destroy superstition in 
 Amar Das. He taught him, for this reason, to eat meat 
 when it was set before him. " If you think of it," said 
 the Guru, " there is life in everything, even in fruits 
 and flowers. Whatever you eat, eat remembering God 
 and it shall be profitable to you. Whatever comes to 
 you without hurting a fellow creature is nectar: what- 
 ever you receive by giving pain is poison." When Amar 
 Das showed irritation with an impostor, the Guru 
 rebuked him, saying " Thou shouldst have endurance 
 like the earth, steadfastness in trouble and in happiness 
 like a mountain. Thou shouldst be humble, for the 
 humble shall ever be exalted. Behold how precious even 
 the smallest diamonds are. The pearl is small, but 
 consider its price," meaning thereby that even the 
 humblest saint has a certain exquisite quality. 
 
 With the fourth teacher, Ram Das, a change began 
 to creep in. The Sikhs had increased in numbers; they 
 were beginning to group themselves together; to be- 
 come a people. Ram Das founded the Golden Temple 
 of Amritsar. He planned out the Sacred Bathing Pool 
 from whose waters Amritsar (Essence of Nectar) takes 
 its name. 
 
 Under Ram Das the Sikhs were become a people 
 possessing property and an organisation. The quality 
 of their profession of religion began now to be subtly 
 altered. Under Guru Arjan, the Tank and the Temple 
 of Amritsar were finished. So terribly had the Sikhs
 
 INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 to labour over this work that it is said that when Arjan 
 saw the state of their bodies he fairly wept. Arjan was 
 a poet and a mystic. He had a creative mind: by him 
 and for him the Grantb Sahib was compiled and all the 
 scattered songs and sayings of the Gurus were written 
 down. He was bold also and independent : therefore he 
 was to discover some of the disabilities that attach to 
 the gathering and keeping of property. 
 
 Jealousy and covetousness brought him enemies 
 who used the power of the Emperor Jahanjir against 
 him. He was ordered to pay a fine, which he refused 
 to do, saying all his money was for the service of 
 the poor. An attack was also made upon him by the 
 religious, among both Hindus and the Mohammedans, 
 because of the unorthodoxy of the Granth Sahib. They 
 worked to inflame the mind of the emperor against him 
 and he was ordered to alter or erase certain hymns, 
 as well as to pay the fine. He was put to the torture. 
 He bore the torture of burning and boiling water and 
 the hot cauldron with unfailing firmness. One of the 
 last poems he recited was as follows : 
 
 Dear God, merciful, joyous; 
 
 Deep, profound, endless, sustainer of the earth; 
 
 Lofty unfathomable eternal Lord, 
 
 I live by remembering Thee. 
 
 His dying counsels which he bade the Sikhs carry to 
 his son and successor Har Gobind were significant: 
 Let him sit armed on his throne and keep up an army 
 as best he can. 
 
 Accordingly while the first four Gurus or prophets of 
 the Sikhs are represented as peaceful men, bearded and 
 comely, sitting upon cushions with adoring disciples
 
 xxii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 about them, Har Gobind is drawn as a warrior, seated 
 on his battle steed, a sword by his side. After the year 
 1606, being that of Arjan's martyrdom, the Sikh reli- 
 gion became subtly altered from its ancient direction. 
 The Sikhs had found (what is ever the case all over the 
 world, among animals as well as among men) that 
 property of every kind must be defended by armed 
 force. 
 
 Even the existence of a book like the Granth Sahib 
 was an offence to those that thought differently. 
 Exactly aa the inoffensive Armenians were a prey to 
 the Turks, so were Arjan and his people a mark for their 
 armed neighbours. Therefore Har Gobind became a 
 fighting man. He showed himself a chivalrous leader; 
 much after the fashion of our Christian knights who 
 knew mercy but never fear. Under Har Gobind and 
 his successors, the Sikhs grew in number and power. 
 Under Teg Bahadur, the ninth prophet and leader of 
 the Sikhs, the question of resistance to oppression 
 became more acute. 
 
 It was from the West that the oppressors of India 
 came in ever succeeding floods. The Moslems that 
 pressed upon Europe from the East, poured back over 
 India from Syria and Gabul and Kandahar. Cruel as 
 were these Moslems to the Christians, they were far 
 worse to the Hindus, whose idols they abhorred. From 
 Shahab-ul-Din (A.D. 1170) to Aurungzeb (1680) it is 
 one tale of woe. Hundreds of gorgeous Hindu temples 
 were razed to the ground. Massacres were common, 
 gold, silver, and jewels were robbed systematically. 
 One emperor had twenty thousand Hindu maidens 
 in his harem. Probably the most striking example of
 
 INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 religious intolerance in the history of the human race 
 was the method adopted by the Emperor Firoz Shah. 
 When he destroyed the city of Bhilsa he razed all the 
 Hindu temples to the ground, carried away their idols 
 and had them placed in front of his fort where every 
 day they were bathed in the blood of a thousand Hindus. 
 The emperors had no objection to the religion of the 
 Sikhs but they could not tolerate their brave and 
 independent bearing. Under the Emperor Babar, 
 Nanak was enslaved. Now, under Teg Bahadur, a 
 terrible enemy to the"^ Sikhs had newly arisen in the 
 person of the Emperor Aurungzebf, who determined 
 to convert all men within his reach to Islamism. Torture, 
 robbery and murder, the usual methods of the tyrant, 
 were freely resorted to. It was borne in upon Bahadur, 
 by the operation of some secret wisdom, that through 
 his own martyrdom, freedom of religion and the lives 
 of many martyrs might be saved. This wisdom came 
 to him as follows. 
 
 Messengers came imploring help against Aurungzeb. 
 For some time Teg Bahadur sat in silence and pondered. 
 His beloved son Gobind (afterwards the last Guru) was 
 playing in the hall and seeing his father sad went to 
 him and said " Father dear, why sittest thou silent 
 to-day ? " 
 
 The Guru seated his dear child near him and said, 
 " My son, thou knowest nothing yet. Thou art still a 
 child. The world is grieved by the oppression of the 
 Turks. No brave man is now to be found. He who is 
 willing to sacrifice his life shall free the earth from the 
 burden of the Mohammedans." 
 
 Then the child, upon whom there rested already the
 
 xxiv SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 signs of leadership, answered, " For that purpose who 
 is more worthy than thou, who art at once generous 
 and brave ? " 
 
 " When Guru Teg Bahadur heard this from his 
 child's lips he divined everything that was to follow." 
 This " everything " included his own surrender to 
 Aurungzeb, his martyrdom, and his death which 
 followed in due course. 
 
 So did the ninth teacher of the Sikh religion solve 
 the problem which is still being set before us thinking 
 beings in what manner and to what extremity are 
 aggression and violence to be resented? Let it be re- 
 marked that the two Sikh leaders who suffered torture 
 and death, both approved in their last hours the fighting 
 qualities of their sons. 
 
 Govind Singh, tenth and last Guru, appears in his 
 picture as the most gorgeous cavalier imaginable. 
 His charger prances the air in embroidered saddle 
 cloth and splendidly designed caparison of gold. The 
 Guru himself has an embroidered kilt and intricately 
 adorned apparel. He wears a long black beard, carries 
 bow and spear and scimitar, and his head is surrounded 
 by a huge halo of solid and handsome workmanship: 
 beauty, splendour, wealth, saintship and war, all 
 included in one. 
 
 A master saint of the Hindus on meeting and talking 
 to Guru Gobindh remarked that he had the outward 
 appearance of a lion, but that he was inwardly a saint. 
 The Guru explained that his warlike appearance had 
 been assumed to put fear on the Turks who had inflicted 
 great misery and hardship on his country. A Moham- 
 medan soldier described Gobind Singh to the emperor
 
 INTRODUCTION xxv 
 
 at this time as "a young handsome man, a living saint, 
 the father of his people, and in war equal to a hundred 
 thousand men." 
 
 When war was made by the hill-chiefs on the Sikhs, 
 Gobind made a mighty drum, whose voice was heard 
 in every corner of the hills; he rallied his men and led 
 them out to victory. 
 
 After this defeat of the hill tribes it happened that 
 some wandering actors visited the emperor's court. He 
 ordered them to produce a Sikh play, which they did, 
 in a poor way. But the emperor, who was not wanting 
 in wit, gathered from it that the Sikhs loved each other 
 much; and they seemed to him dangerous as being 
 united by no common bond; so he determined they 
 must be crushed. Thus it was that it became more and 
 more necessary to rouse all the manly qualities of the 
 Sikhs. The Brotherhood of Lions was indeed becoming 
 formidable. One great scene is described when Gobind 
 called his people together, having first ordered that five 
 goats should be tied within an enclosed space near by. 
 Then he stood up before the people and cried out in 
 a great voice: "If there be any true Sikh of mine 
 let him give me his head as an offering and proof of 
 his faith." One Daya Ram rose and said : " O True 
 King, take my head " ; the Guru led him within the 
 enclosure and gave him a seat. Then he slew a goat 
 and going to the people again cried out for a head. So 
 he did till he had found five devoted ones, whom he 
 led out and showed to the people. He said to them, 
 " The Khalsa can now only be maintained as a nation 
 by bravery and skill in arms. Therefore I now institute 
 the custom of baptism by water stirred with a dagger 
 and change my followers from Sikhs to Singhs or lions."
 
 xxvi SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 III 
 
 After this the Sikhs became more warriors than saints. 
 It is true that Guru Gobind bade a Sikh woman cast 
 a sweetmeat in the cauldron which he stirred with his 
 dagger, signifying thereby the sweetness of women. 
 Yet the difference may be felt between his contribu- 
 tions to the Granth Sahib and those of his predecessors. 
 He became more like the Mohammedans and he and 
 his bards began to write like them; as for instance: 
 " Blest is his life in this world who repeateth God's name 
 with his mouth and meditateth war in his heart." 
 
 So does Mars ever contrive to muddle the under- 
 standing of his sons. Yet it is impossible to deny 
 Govindh a certain greatness of mind; it is felt in two 
 lines from his famous letter to the tyrant Aurungzeb: 
 
 I am the destroyer of the turbulent hill-men. 
 
 Since they are idolaters and I am a breaker of idols. 
 
 This is the very voice and temper of the Iconoclasts 
 of the Byzantine Empire. 
 
 As a fighting man his qualities were superb. An 
 Iliad might be written of his vast struggle with a far 
 superior force. He had the chivalrous gallantry of a 
 Hector as well as the wisdom of a Ulysses. No tale of 
 Trojan women is more moving than that of his noble 
 wife and her four sons, heroes true to the quality of 
 sire and grandsire, not fearing, in their childhood 
 to face an emperor and to speak the truth, with death 
 before them. The successive deaths of all four were 
 foreseen by their mother: having seen two perish and 
 the remaining two being sent for by the emperor she
 
 INTRODUCTION xxvii 
 
 asked permission of her lord to quit her life, since she 
 could be of no more use. Seeing that he too must leave 
 her he gave his consent and she suspended her breath 
 and passed away. Gobindh, indomitable, still battled 
 on till the year 1708, when he died of his wounds which, 
 but half-healed, burst open as he tried his strength on a 
 mighty bow. He died like the lion he was and with his 
 last strength left the beloved Book, the Guru Grantb 
 to his followers as his successors. He left the military 
 power of the Sikhs strengthened and enlarged as 
 the result of his noble personality and dauntless 
 struggles. 
 
 One cannot think of the Sikh militant idea, especially 
 after a terrible world-war, without trying to discover in 
 Indian religion traces of the same belief in a deliverance 
 of a chosen people by the sword. In the Vishmi-sutra, 
 a series of glosses and comments on the sacred laws, 
 are to be found many passages that bear upon the 
 recognition of the militant idea as inherent in the law. 
 In the pages that expound the duties of a king, we are 
 told that "six measures" of a military ruler are: making 
 war, gaining allies,, going to battle, encamping, securing 
 the aid of a king yet more powerful, and marshalling 
 his armies. There is no higher duty for men of the 
 military caste, we read again, than to risk their life 
 in battle. And then, for the necessary elements of a 
 state they are seven: the king, the king's council, his 
 fortress, his treasure, his army, his realm, and his royal 
 ally. Again, the attack of his enemies must be 
 countered by force of arms. These and the like clauses 
 and legal articles would be enough to show in them- 
 selves a rooted belief in the fighting powers, the militant
 
 xxviii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 economy of states, and the military instinct of men. 
 Not only that, the idea is implicit in the account of the 
 Hell torments of the survivors and criminals, whose 
 violent crimes are to be punished by violence. They 
 are to be scorched by flames, sawn asunder, their 
 backs, shoulders and heads fractured, their bodies hung 
 with snakes, or shot through like St. Sebastian with 
 sheafs of arrows and thorn-scored, and ground, cut 
 and hacked to pieces. 
 
 It may be said that in the enumeration of the saving 
 virtues, there is no account in Vishnu-sutra of those 
 of a martial kind physical courage, prowess in arms, 
 and the male energy. But the fighting instinct is 
 recognised throughout its pages openly or figuratively; 
 and at the close, when Laks'mi speaks to the goddess 
 of earth she begins by saying: 
 
 Always am I at the side of the Destroying One, Vishnu, the 
 shining slayer of Madhu, O Goddess, who shinest like 
 gold! 
 
 The sense of warfare is often present in Indian religion; 
 and the Sikh apotheosis of the fighting genius of its 
 men empowered to save their people, is not a break 
 with tradition. With the Sikhs, too, the cult of the sword 
 is another expression of the struggle for a pure and 
 free religion held by the morally brave: Nanak's con- 
 ception of religion was not one for slaves. It bred free- 
 dom and truth; under the yoke of Islam there was no 
 place for the free. 
 
 The temper of the Sikh religion was in sympathy 
 with the more liberated Western mind. There was a 
 universality in the ground of Sikh thought that attracted 
 them to all who possessed the rudiments of clear and
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 XX!X 
 
 devout thought. It was this quality of honesty and 
 valour that brought them into sympathy with the 
 English mind. The same universality of thought, the 
 same purity of aspiration, belongs to the latest poet 
 of the race whose work is destined to be almost as 
 well understood in the West as in the East. 
 
 IV 
 
 From time out of memory there have lived in 
 India saints and thinkers who have been discontented 
 with ritual and idol worship, and have thought their 
 independent way to the worship of the pure spirit of 
 God. These men were forerunners of the great Nanak; 
 they are called the Bhagats, or lovers perhaps the 
 Devoted Ones would be a truer title; and among these 
 Devoted we think Puran Singh should be numbered. 
 They were, some of them, Mohammedans and some 
 Hindus; a few of the hymns written by these early 
 saints are given in the Guru Granth. In a poem express- 
 ing the grief of the soul when shut out from the con- 
 fidence of God occur the lines on which Puran Singh 
 has built the first poem in his book: 
 
 O black Koel, why art thou black ? 
 
 THE KofeL. I have been burnt by separation from my Beloved: 
 Can she who is separated from her Beloved ever be happy? 
 
 Jaidev was perhaps the most interesting of those 
 who are represented in the Guru Granth. He lived in 
 the twelfth century. The king of Bengal (who must 
 have been a cultivated person himself) wrote a one-line
 
 xxx SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 epitaph on Jaidev which was engraved on a monument 
 to the memory of four poets. " Jaidev alone knoweth 
 purity of style." He was an accomplished scholar; but 
 so great was his love for the pure contemplative life 
 that at last he denied himself pen, ink and paper. He 
 would not sleep for two nights together under the same 
 tree for fear he might attach himself to it and forget his 
 Creator. At last a beautiful young wife mysteriously 
 presented herself to him: for some time he refused her 
 but at last was reconciled to her presence. He built a 
 cottage for her and settled down to write poetry. He 
 produced the poem called the Gitgovind which has 
 been translated by both Sir William Jones and Sir 
 Edwin Arnold. An astonishing proof of its poetical 
 quality is to be got from this charming story : a 
 gardener's daughter was one day gathering egg-plants 
 near the temple of Juganath, Lord of the World; as 
 she gathered she sang the following verse from the 
 fifth canto of the poem : 
 
 The zephyr gently blows on the banks of the Yamuna while 
 Krishna tarries in the grove. 
 
 The great idol came forth from his temple and 
 followed the maiden wherever she went that he might 
 listen to her song; and not without damage to his 
 clothes, for he wore only a thin tunic which was torn 
 by the branches. Next morning when the rajah visited 
 the temple, he saw the state of the idol's dress. On 
 asking the cause and being told of the idol's delight 
 in the poetry of Jaidev the rajah issued an edict that 
 the Gitgovind must only be recited in a clean and 
 orderly place as the Lord of the World was in the habit 
 of listening to it, and his clothes must be preserved
 
 INTRODUCTION xxxi 
 
 from damage. So much does Indian tradition honour 
 the sweet singers of the race. Delightful country, when 
 even the kings have a sense of style, where the gardeners' 
 daughters sing poems, and the very idols are re-animated 
 by numbers whose only magic is the magic of art ! 
 
 It would seem that a great living stream of tradition, 
 continually refreshed by small, clear, mountain-born 
 brooks, flowed in Indian poetry, and was never left 
 long without its new tributary. More than that, in 
 reading the hymns and poems of the Sikhs one is led to 
 think that the maintainers of it in each new period 
 were under a kind of law that ruled their minds and 
 bade them be tireless in the effort to continue the lyric 
 stream and give it free outlet. This mingling of in- 
 dividual impulse with a collective tradition is seen in 
 our Western poetry too, but not working to-day in the 
 same way. What strikes one in the individual poet 
 who succeeds to the lyric line, and devotes himself 
 to the art of worthily continuing it, is his trustfulness, 
 his almost child-like faith, in devoting his faculties 
 to the task. He is like the child Arjan (in a story that 
 is told in the life of Guru Amar Das), who three times 
 put his hand into the Guru's sacred plate of food, and 
 by that innocent persistence, won his right to the great 
 succession, and became, as Amar Das put it, " heir 
 to the plate." Or, he is like Jetha, Arjan's father, who 
 had more than a touch of the same persistence. He 
 built up and destroyed, to the seventh time, a little 
 stage or platform on which the master should sit, 
 working away at it and then unbuilding to build it 
 again yet more perfectly, until the final test of his 
 service was fulfilled. It is that very discharge from the
 
 xxxii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 vanity of the half-artist, who is so often eager only to 
 be praised quickly and to gain applause, which strikes 
 one in the Indian poets. Their clear spirit enabled them 
 to become channels of the heaven-sent, clear flowing 
 water of the true tradition; and that is the responsive 
 and open-minded lyric spirit we find in the songs of 
 Puran Singh. 
 
 V 
 
 The story of the poet himself remains to be given, 
 and this can be done, fortunately, in his own words, 
 drawn from an autobiography-in-little which he sent 
 to the present writers : 
 
 " Ever since I was a boy," he wrote, " these Punjabi 
 lyrics have been haunting me, I have spent days and 
 days in their pure delight. There are moments when 
 in deep association with their song, I feel irresistibly 
 bound to go sharing my joy with others. In my younger 
 days I embraced rocks and trees as I went, and cried 
 for what I knew not. 
 
 " I was born in 1881, in a village near Abbottabad 
 (North Western Province Frontier). Our family has 
 never been what they call rich, but we have always 
 been happy in the wealth of feeling that came to us 
 in abundance from our ancestors, especially from my 
 mother's side. My father, being a subordinate Govern- 
 ment official, had to roam for most of the year in the 
 frontier hills, inspecting crops and land-records; and 
 we lived with our mother, mostly in the hill villages. 
 Our mother did everything for us. She cooked for us, 
 washed our clothes, took us to the hill streams and 
 gave us a daily plunge in the crystal, biting cold water.
 
 INTRODUCTION xxxiii 
 
 She took us to the village Sikh temple, made us listen 
 to the hymns of the Guru every morning, and generally 
 in the afternoon we all sat listening to the recital of 
 the lines of the great teacher by the village priest. At 
 night, all alone, we sat together round the fire as my 
 mother and elder sister sat before their spinning-wheels, 
 preparing thread for getting some cloth woven by the 
 village weaver for the family. As you see, for most of 
 the time, mother lived alone. She was by our side, 
 but God alone was by her. She was equally unafraid 
 of thieves and evil spirits: her courage was extra- 
 ordinary. The whole village respected her. As you 
 know, that part of the country is full of Pathans, and 
 even they admired my mother for her heroic spirit. 
 Under these circumstances father came to us after 
 long intervals, as a sudden delight of Heaven, which 
 we childreu expressed by running aimlessly about, 
 shouting: 'Oh! father has come! father has come!' 
 We went and embraced him, then began clinging round 
 the neck of a gentle fine mare he had, and gave him in 
 every way a royal welcome home. 
 
 " He just made enough to make the two ends meet 
 for the Indian village life which used to be so cheap in 
 those old days. But we knew nothing of this. Our mother 
 brought us up like little princes. We had ' velvet coats' * 
 and occasionally good English shoes to wear. She thus 
 added to our mind from our infancy a divine richness 
 which never attached any value to wealth, property, 
 or any form of mere possession of things. Our house 
 was always open to poor people, and whoever came to 
 
 1 The children of India have velvet coats for winter ; but 
 only rich people as a rule manage to get them for their children. 
 C
 
 xxxiv SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 beg of my mother for a suit of clothes or a little money 
 had it. No one was sent away from our door without 
 being given a share of whatever we could give. 
 
 " My mother was known for her generosity and cour- 
 age. She would serve her relatives for months, and on 
 occasion nurse the sick and the wounded with her own 
 hand day and night, single-handed and untiring. If 
 she thought a certain thing was good and must be done 
 she did it, in spite of the whole world's opposition. 
 
 As for the outer environment of my childhood, the 
 Pathan was there, with his love of death and danger, 
 his untamed freedom of soul, and the quaint moral code 
 which he faithfully followed, looking at me, taking me 
 on his knees, and telling me his folk tales. The weird 
 hill surroundings of Gandhara and Kagan, the daily 
 baths in the crystalline waters of ever singing hill- 
 streams, the solitude of night, the innocence of the day, 
 filled us, girl and boy, with the elementary joys of life. 
 I grew up like a little ' Pathan ' child with a Hindu 
 mind, that learnt the Song of the Guru in its cradle; 
 and in my younger days looked just like a Pathan. 
 
 " Mother wished to give me a good education. We 
 had no good teaching, it is true; but whatever 
 could be had, she gave. In spite of lack of funds, she 
 willed it, and put me to school. She left the hills and 
 villages and came to live at Rawalpindi, then a little 
 town, now a very large cantonment. I was not a very 
 diligent student, but one who had the knack of 
 keeping his teacher impressed and of getting through 
 exams, with ease. I never put my heart into what I 
 studied, only minding the joys of life as it kept on 
 changing from day to day in me. In these days, again,
 
 INTRODUCTION xxxv 
 
 though we were living in the city of our relatives, we 
 were alone with our mother, as our ways were not quite 
 in harmony with the sense of cities. 
 
 My mother used to go to bed early; she felt so 
 tired after the day's incessant toil, while I went through 
 my books. I still remember the lonely midnights; 
 the earthen-lamp, and the midnight call of my mother 
 to leave my books and go to bed. But then I only 
 poured more oil into my lamp and took a new wick to 
 complete my lessons. I passed the entrance examina- 
 tion which meant that I could get into a college for 
 my ' higher ' education. Then I had to leave my mother, 
 for I had to go to Lahore. This tore me from the 
 home associations so dear to me and deprived me of 
 my mother's immediate care. At Lahore, while in the 
 college, I constantly thought of my mother, how she 
 toiled for us day and night, and how she gave us all a 
 beautiful independence of mind by her own self- 
 sacrifice and constant thought of us. Removed as I 
 was from her to a little distance, she shone before me 
 more than those distant diamond peaks of the high 
 hills which I had left behind. One thing more I now 
 see I got from my mother, a wonderful elasticity 
 of mind. Naturally optimistic and strong in her faith, 
 she took no time to return to herself when disturbed 
 by any unpleasantness. She got reconciled to every- 
 thing quickly again, as if she knew ' God is in Heaven 
 and all is well.' 
 
 "While not yet a graduate, I got an open scholar- 
 ship to go to Japan for study. Mother was against 
 my going away from her, but I persuaded her, and 
 so without much thinking, left for Japan. It was in
 
 xxxvi SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 1900. I was in the Tokyo Imperial University studying 
 applied chemistry for more than three years, and learn- 
 ing a good deal of the industrial life of that country. 
 I came in contact with the leading Japanese people 
 and was a friend of many a family, where I found the 
 love of flowers, of nature, and of Buddha. I met men 
 of silence, men of joy, poets and artists, and I always 
 sought for the hidden riches of the soul wherever I 
 went. Towards the close of my stay there, I gained 
 the new joy of freedom from self and everything dropped 
 from my hands. I turned a monk. Tears of joy rolled 
 from my eyes, and my words were soft as cherry flowers 
 dropping in air. It seemed that I loved everyone and 
 everyone loved me. If Japan was beautiful, people 
 around me saw the evidence in me. A Persian poet 
 says: 
 
 Are you going out to see gardens and roses ? 
 What a pity, 
 
 Open the Door of Heart, enter and see 
 What fiery roses bloom within. 
 
 " Such was my condition of full youth, lived in 
 supreme innocence; floods of ecstacy overwhelming 
 me, Buddha before me, behind me, above me, in me. 
 And there I met an Indian saint who came from India. 
 He touched me with Divine Fire and I became a 
 Sanyasin. But now, as I see, he put many ideas in 
 my head in pursuance of what these modern Hindu 
 monks were keen about, Nation-making, awakening 
 India to its greatness, work, work, work. Though I 
 was never much attracted by the vain pursuits of 
 life, yet, to obey one who told me so much about 
 Self-Realisation, I threw all my books of science and
 
 INTRODUCTION xxxvii 
 
 notebooks aside, and started for India. On the whole, 
 Japan was more conducive to the keeping of the Great 
 Idea and the spirit of life, than my own country. But 
 I arrived back full of dreams and sweet hopes, with 
 which the Hindu Sanyasi had mixed thunder and 
 lightning and the wish to be effective for ' work.' 
 
 " But in spite of the yellow robe, I could not forget 
 the ' Nest ' which I had left. In my absence, the cir- 
 cumstances of the family grew still worse and poverty 
 threatened it. My mother heard of my arrival at 
 Calcutta, and she lost no time in travelling to Calcutta 
 to find me in that big crowded city without knowing 
 my address. I wonder now why I did not cry when 
 I first met her after such a long time ? It was certainly 
 due to that ' congealing ' of my stream of tears which 
 the Hindu Sanyasi produced in me. My father was 
 with her. He was deeply hurt at seeing me a monk, 
 though what I did was in the real fulfilment of his 
 metaphysical ideas. He was bitter and sarcastic in his 
 speech to me, but my mother soon reconciled herself 
 to it, sympathised with me and even admired me for 
 my taking the right direction. After a day or two, she 
 asked me to accompany her to see my sisters, and I did. 
 I returned to my ' Nest ' a poor mud house at Abbotta- 
 bad where my two sisters stood in the courtyard 
 waiting for me, and by their side stood on their tiny 
 legs my two younger brothers, little children peeping 
 out of their half-starved frames for their brother; and 
 a cry went up from them as my mother entered, leading 
 her monk-son at midnight. The moon was shining full, 
 and mother said to them: 'There! There is your 
 brother.'
 
 xxxviii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 " There stood I, in full moonlight, in my orange 
 garb, my mother pointing to me; and my sisters, breath- 
 less with joy, were suddenly struck with horror at seeing 
 me, the Sikh boy who at all costs must respect the 
 sacred Guru-given tresses and turban, a clean-shaven 
 monk. But my old associations took no time to bridge 
 the gulf and we ran into each others arms. They wept; 
 I wept not, which I still regret. Nothing could describe 
 the solace my coming home brought to the family. 
 
 " I found my younger sister, Ganza, was not well, 
 and after about a fortnight of my arrival there she lay 
 in my arms dying of fever. I asked her if she wished 
 of me anything to be done for her sake. 
 
 " ' Brother! Marry the girl we have chosen for you.' 
 
 " ' Yes, I will, dear Ganga. Do not have any misgiving 
 as to that.' 
 
 " I kissed her, and she passed away as I held her in 
 my arms."
 
 PREFACE 
 
 OUR Father Guru Govind Singh, the tenth Guru of 
 the Khalsa, promised his own presence for all time on 
 this earth, in the Mystic Person of " Guru Granth," 
 which they call the Bible of the Sikhs. On this earth, 
 all the Sikh Saints and Adepts are resumed and 
 contained for us in this Mystic Person, who now is 
 supreme. " Guru Granth," become flesh and blood, 
 calls to us, his disciples, to come and touch him, 
 saying, " Behold I am made man." He is a living 
 man. He is a Man with a Divine appointment. 
 Whenever His Lotus-Feet come nigh, I bow before 
 him, I cry aloud in joy. 
 
 In moments of this joy and under the cool shades 
 of " Guru Granth," I have tried to write down, mostly 
 for myself, a portion of the sweetness with which His 
 Grace filled me at times. These out-pourings of a single 
 heart in God's Infinite Universe are offered here as a 
 personal offering as songs of joy, uttered in the name 
 of the Prophet of the Glory of the Lord of All. 
 
 To avoid any misunderstanding, I must plainly say 
 that these pieces can, at best, be said to convey a small 
 portion of the Divine Idea that floods every page of 
 " Guru Granth." It requires the whole of Divine 
 Humanity to interpret for the life of man the meaning 
 and music of " Guru Granth," that transcends this life
 
 xl SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 on this earth and is heard beyond death. So do we 
 believe. 
 
 I only publish these fragments in the joy of my total 
 failure at an attempted rendering of a few pieces from 
 " Guru Granth " into English. I would have been 
 glad to have been overwhelmed in the Amrit floods 
 that are set free by the touch of that Sacred Presence; 
 but no, I am still on the banks of the stream. The 
 true deliverance would have been to slip into the 
 Infinite by a plunge in the all-forgetting and all- 
 absorbing love of the Beloved. 
 
 The Auspicious Day has dawned ! 
 
 The Hour is fixed for my wedding with my Lord I 
 
 Come, Comrades! Assemble and make rejoicings, 
 
 Anoint the Bride with oil and pour on her your blessings ! 
 
 Comrades ! Pray, the Bride may meet Her Lord I 
 
 PURAN SINGH. 
 
 DEHRA DUN, 
 
 February, 1915.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION ....... v 
 
 PREFACE ........ xxxix 
 
 POEMS FROM THE LAND OF THE FIVE RIVERS: 
 
 Koel 3 
 
 Chatrik ........ 4 
 
 Rajhans ........ 5 
 
 Paras ......... 6 
 
 The Woman 8 
 
 POEMS OF A SIKH: 
 
 The Turban'd Man . . . . . .29 
 
 An Unknown Man ....... 29 
 
 The Man Who becomes Me ..... 30 
 
 The Man in Me ....... 30 
 
 The Man in Me and not in Me .... 31 
 
 When? I know not ...... 31 
 
 The Silver Feet 32 
 
 Glory! Glory! Everywhere! ..... 32 
 
 His Miracles are Great . . . . . -33 
 
 The Twilight of Thy Glance ..... 34 
 
 Nam : the Name of the Infinite .... 34 
 
 Guru Nanak ........ 37 
 
 I am the Child lost in the World-Fair ... 44 
 
 POEMS ON SIMRAN: 
 
 The Whole Horizon of My Mind 55 
 
 As a Woman loves Man ...... 55 
 
 The Man of God 56 
 
 Of what Use to turn the Beads .... 57 
 
 Each Saint is a Great Star of Simran Life . . 58 
 
 On the Wheel of Simran ..... 59 
 
 The Guru gathers the Man Grain by Grain . . 60 
 All the March of Things is Divine . . . .61 
 
 I do not know why ...... 62 
 
 xli
 
 xlii SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 POEMS ON SIM RAN continued. PAGE 
 
 I met a Woman once ...... 63 
 
 The Persons of Men ...... 63 
 
 In a Thousand Sacred Rivers I have plunged . . 64 
 
 Touch My Heart 65 
 
 The Nest in the Grass-Blades 66 
 
 When all the Doors are closed .... 66 
 
 I am the Gardener's Daughter .... 68 
 
 An Offering ....... 73 
 
 READINGS FROM " GURU GRANTH": 
 
 Japji . . -79 
 
 Sloka . 103 
 
 Keertan Sohila, or The Wedding Song . . .104 
 
 O Sisters 1 it is the Month of Rain . . .no 
 
 The Moment when I see Thee not . . . .113 
 
 The Husband of the Countless Worlds . . .114 
 
 Give Him, the Beloved, the News of Us . . . 115 
 
 " My mother, my father, my owner is my Lord " . 1 16 
 
 " Holy is the dust of the lotus feet of Thy Saints 1 " . 1 1 6 
 
 " O disciple, bathe thy mind " . . . 117 
 
 " They come and they go " . . . . 117 
 
 " He is very beautiful " . . . . .118 
 
 " Transparent grows my soul " . . . .118 
 
 "O Beloved!" 119 
 
 " Fetch that elixir ! then" . . . . .119 
 
 " Hate no one " . . . . . . .119 
 
 " Peace is mine, when selfishness drops from me " . 120 
 
 " If it be Thy wish, O Lord !" . . . .120 
 
 " The Transcendental Beauty " . . . .121 
 
 " A man! " . . . . . . . .121 
 
 " Those who love Him, love nothing else " . . 122 
 
 " As water is to the fish " . . . .122 
 
 " Wait, O woman of love and longing " . . .122 
 
 " A thousand times I would die for those " . . 123 
 " O Kind One! now meet me! " .... 123 
 
 " Peace! "........ 124 
 
 " My mind is happy, my heart dances with joy " . 125 
 " Oh eyes! my eyes!". ..... 125 
 
 " My sweet, sweet God has concealed " . .126 
 
 " Hard! very hard indeed is the life of Love " . . 127
 
 CONTENTS xliii 
 
 READINGS FROM " GURU GRANTH " continued. PAGE 
 
 " Look! the shades of evening spread " . .127 
 
 " This little shrine of human body !" . . .129 
 " Flung away are we from Thee " . . . - . 130 
 " My soul is on fire " ...... 131 
 
 " Spring is gone with all its flowers " . . .132 
 
 " It is winter now " ...... 133 
 
 " For our distress we blame no one " . . .135 
 " Those who live with the Beloved never perish " . 135 
 ' ' Thy stellar and astral systems stand ; they are Truth " 1 36 
 " Wonder of all wonders! " . . . .136 
 
 " It is the Miracle of His Own Presence " . .137 
 
 . " He read and read and heaped carts on carts of the 
 
 books of learning " . 
 
 " Not this, not this is the Sacred Thread " 
 " By self-surrender, He is now mine " 
 " The Wheel of Birth and Death turns ! " 
 " He has chosen to honour His slave ! " . 
 " Even if I have vexed Thee " 
 
 Kama 
 
 " That season is spring v/hen they are with Thee " . 
 
 " O my mother ! how can I aspire to see my Beloved ? " 
 
 " How can I praise Thee who has given me life " 
 
 " O mother ! how can I live without my Beloved " . 
 
 " Every day I rise with the same hope " . 
 
 " The life in me gets attracted by the glitter of gold " 
 
 " O Saints! tell me how does my Beloved look? " . 
 
 READINGS FROM " SLOKAS " BY GURU TEG BAHADUR . 161 
 READINGS FROM " CHANTS " BY GURU RAM DAS . .167 
 READINGS FROM " SLOKAS " BY BHEGET KABIR Ji . . 173
 
 POEMS FROM THE LAND OF THE 
 FIVE RIVERS
 
 THE SISTERS OF THE 
 SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 POEMS FROM THE LAND OF THE 
 FIVE RIVERS 
 
 KOEL (THE BLACK CUCKOO) 
 
 I 
 
 KOEL! what lightning fell? what singed thy wings ? 
 
 What keeps thee fresh, yet charred ? 
 
 Concealed in the mango-leaves, thou singest ! 
 
 Thy high-pitched strains wake in my soul a thousand 
 
 memories ! 
 Why so restless that thy spark-shedding notes go forth 
 
 kindling fire ? 
 
 Lo ! The roses are on fire which winds and waters catch I 
 The shades of mangoes burn! 
 What a rain of sparks art thou, O little Bird! 
 Koel! what lightning fell? what singed thy wings? 
 
 II 
 
 The Fire of Love has charred my wings, and made me 
 
 anew, 
 
 I am restless ! Where is my Beloved ? 
 The sight of mango-blossoms fires me all the more! 
 The greener the garden, the brighter burns my heart! 
 My flaming soul asks, " Where ? where is my Beloved ? " 
 " Speak! speak! why are the leaves so still ? " 
 
 3
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 CHATRIK 
 
 O CHATRIK! l Lover of the cloud-clad skies, a thirst, 
 
 a longing for the nectar drop ! 
 
 Thou hast the soul of a disciple that pants for Hart Ndm\ 
 A weird cry thou pipest as thou flittest from wood to 
 
 wood, for the season of clouds. 
 How with thy half-opened mouth, thou callest for the 
 
 Pearl that lies in the Treasure-House of the 
 
 Sawan-clouds I 
 Ah! In what a bitter pain waits thy impatient thirst, 
 
 which no lower heights can quench. 
 For thee all rivers and lakes are, as it were, dry. 
 Thy soul waits for thy own drop from clouds, the 
 
 dwellers of the sky. 
 Brave lover! Thou lookest not on oceans of waters 
 
 around, 
 Thou seemest to be the throat of the Sun-scorched lands 
 
 and thou appealest for the Heaven-reflecting 
 
 drop which rejoiceth the earth, all birds, all 
 
 animals, and all mankind! 
 Thou art the Heart of a Saint, which beateth not in 
 
 thy own struggling wings alone, but beats 
 
 beyond thyself in the nectar-drop all-cooling, 
 
 1 Chatrik or Sarang is the vernacular name of a bird who in 
 the Punjabi poetry, like the Bulbul in the Persian poetry, is the 
 chief companion of the poet of love. It is said to be the chief 
 lover of the clouds that gather in the Indian sky in the month 
 of rain or S&wan. It is said to remain thirsty as long as it can- 
 not have the rain - drop from the clouds. The season of rain 
 after the fierce beating of the sun for several months in the 
 tropics is a universal blessing.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 5 
 
 mother of the God-given Month of Rain, whose 
 sudden showers bless us unawares. 
 See how the drops dance in mid-air, rewarding thy hopes, 
 thy longings and thy love, and filling thy heart 
 and soul with the whole Infinite. Thy share one 
 drop, one little, little drop of Heaven. 
 
 RAJHANS (THE PRINCE OF SWANS) 
 
 RAJ HANS ! The Golden Swan! Is it thy plumage that 
 shines, or the sunrise on the eternal snows ? 
 
 The dweller of Mdn-Sarowar, the lake on the roof of 
 the world! Thy golden beak parts milk from 
 water, in the living stream thou art a liberated 
 soul! 
 
 A rosary of spotless pearls is in thy beak, and how 
 sublime is the lofty curve of thy neck against 
 the Heaven's vast azure! 
 
 Thou livest on pearls, the Nectar drops so pure of 
 Hari Nam. 
 
 Great soul! lover of the azure, transparent Infinite! 
 Thou canst not breathe out of the Man-Sarowar 
 air, nor canst thou live out of sight of those 
 loftiest peaks of snow, and away from the 
 diluted perfume of musk blowing from the wild 
 trail of the deer! 
 
 Thou art the Spirit of Beauty, thou art far beyond 
 the reach of human thought. Thy isolation 
 reflecteth the glory of the starry sky in thy 
 Nectar Lake of Heart in whose waters the sun 
 daily dips himself!
 
 6 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Thou hast the limitless expanse of air, the companion- 
 ship of fragrant gods, 
 
 And yet we know thou leavest those Fair Abodes to 
 come to share the woes of human love, 
 
 Thou alightest unawares on the grain-filled barn of 
 the humble farmer; awakening Nature's maiden 
 hearts, thou informest love. 
 
 It is thy delight to see woman love man, the small 
 ripplings of a human heart in love flutter thee 
 in thy lofty seat, 
 
 Thou art the soul liberated through love, thou knowest 
 the worth of love, flying for its sake even midst 
 the cities' smoke and dust, perchance, to save a 
 human soul through love ! ! 
 
 PARAS, THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE 
 
 Paras! Thou art so mixed with common stones that 
 only the straying sheep may chance to strike 
 thee with her small sharp-pointed hoof, so 
 discovering thee! 
 
 When the shepherd sees the foot of his sheep agleam 
 with gold, he says to his comrades, as together 
 they sit and spin the wool, mixing black with 
 white, 
 
 "O comrades! Be sure the ancient Paras truly lives, 
 as proved by the gleam in the sheep's foot." 
 
 Thus a poor shepherd here and there, who has a few 
 sheep and a staff and a black blanket for his all, 
 but with a love-rich heart and eyes that look up
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 7 
 
 to Heaven when in need, owns the proof that 
 
 it is. 
 Paras ! that thou art with us in this world is known, 
 
 yet countless eyes have roamed over the drifting 
 
 sea of boulders in vain!! 
 No wise man's seeking nor longing ever found thy 
 
 transmuting crystal, not a glimpse of thee had 
 
 they though lives on lives were spent in search 
 
 of thee. 
 In vain we look for thee in stones, thou art in the eyes 
 
 of the saint, in Simran deep. 
 The divine-made man is Paras, Paras is Hari Nam, a 
 
 saint whose touch transmutes all baser metals 
 
 into gold! 
 If he looks at a courtesan, she is transmuted by his 
 
 glance, her metal is changed; she becomes a 
 
 virgin-goddess and a saint! 
 The robbers, the thieves, the rogues and cut-throats 
 
 turn their backs on sin and face the Sun of 
 
 Righteousness, when once through their blood 
 
 and bone vibrates a single glance of Nam, 
 When once the Master wills, the chambers of thought 
 
 are washed, the veils lift up, and lost and un- 
 claimed men are made sons of God. 
 When once the Man of God arises in Man, all lower 
 
 desires and soilings gathered in lives bygone are 
 
 blown away as the sun blows off by its golden 
 
 breath the night. 
 The Transmuter of men is Hari Nam, he is Paras, his 
 
 is the art of alchemy. 
 One metal may change into another, the copper into 
 
 gold, even one tree into another, the thorny
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Acacia into the scented Sandal, but what are 
 these changes worth, if his glance come not 
 vibrating through me, and change not my metal 
 by blending his soul with mine, and lift me up 
 into the Sky by his higher life of love and God ? 
 
 THE WOMAN 
 I 
 
 A MAN of Simran passed a street where the Sisters of 
 the Spinning Wheel, the maidens of the Town, 
 had gathered! 
 
 They had gathered to sing love-songs of older days; 
 
 They had gathered to raise from their virgin throats 
 the ancient notes of human love, to rouse the 
 hearts of men to woman's greatness! 
 
 They had gathered to sing the woman, her greatness 
 for song, for love, for tenderness of heart, and 
 for her faith in Man, and her worship of him, 
 how steadfast she, like the patient earth, in his 
 service, 
 
 She loves and calls him her God!! 
 
 Her eyes look up to no higher Heaven beyond the love 
 of her man, faithful in life to him and ah! in 
 her death ! ! 
 
 II 
 
 The saint paused to look at them and his mind turned to 
 thought. "Ah! could I love my Beloved with 
 the faith of a woman, could I sing so well and 
 could I call Him as the love-strains of the village 
 girls call their own, could I have the heart of a
 
 woman, her jealousy of belief and love for one 
 man, her oneness of mind and heart and bone 
 and blood and flesh for her love! 
 
 Ah! could I have her spirit of infinite patience that 
 waits for love without a thought or a wish to be 
 seen or felt by the vulgar world around; her 
 tender bosom doth conceal volcanoes of love's 
 fires, beneath the simple flowers blowing on the 
 snows of her face so calm, and yet so unwilling 
 to confess ' I love.' 
 
 On her lips no complaints arise, her dimpling smiles 
 tell that her gladness consists in seeing him whom 
 once she calls her own. 
 
 Be it favours now or frowns, it is well for her as he wills! 
 
 Her soul lives in the joy of the life she adores. 
 
 For her, her Man can never die. 
 
 No true woman deems herself a widow; whether he be 
 gone to distant lands, or gone to the Master's 
 country yonder, she waits for him; her Man 
 is sure to come back, her Man for ever hers, no 
 death can untie the knot of her arms that wreathe 
 him close to her tender bosom in love. 
 
 It is the sacred knot that God has tied with His own 
 Hands. Who can sunder two that He joins 
 in one ? Angels and prophets give them aid. 
 
 Ill 
 
 " The Satee-woman of love conceals a hero-soul in her 
 tender frame, her courage rings along the aisles of 
 Heaven, her eyes can call the Kingdom of God 
 to help if worlds oppose!!
 
 io SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 She is a hidden sacrifice, her love only Gods know, she 
 is fate almighty; so made by the love of man. 
 
 Meseems the Disciple too has the soul of a Satee, he 
 loves none else but his beloved Master! 
 
 Like the Satee, his soul sings of love in the storm-girt 
 silence of All-death, his every part tingles like 
 a string with the music of faith in love! 
 
 Like her, he too conceals his love and makes a whole 
 Heaven to dwell invisible within his house of 
 flesh." 
 
 IV 
 
 Thus did the saint praise woman's soul, as he gazed 
 at the women and heard their songs and stood 
 amidst them day by day. 
 
 These love songs of the Five Rivers are great, how 
 sweet the vibrations that fill even a saint with 
 holiness! 
 
 The longings of simple human hearts are immortal. 
 
 The village girl, simple and untaught, has a secret hope 
 to capture the lover and owner of her heart 
 with nothing at all; she longs to have a home 
 and a husband for whose pleasure she should 
 toil and work; she longs to serve the children 
 of her Lord. She toils and sweats for the joys 
 of the rain of his kisses on her lips and face, 
 behind the veil. 
 
 She longs to bear him children, for the sunshine of 
 whose life they both shall wait through a 
 thousand days of tears.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL n 
 
 V 
 
 In singing procession, the crowd of the Sisters of the 
 Spinning Wheel passed on to the Hall of the 
 Spinning Wheel, the Trinjan, 1 the saint followed 
 behind unseen. 
 
 Each girl sat before her own scarlet wheel, her little 
 heart-cup brimming over with maiden joy and 
 pride of youth. 
 
 Each girl a princess whirs her spinning wheel and hums 
 to it some simple tragic song of love! 
 
 VI 
 
 THE STORY OF " SASI " AND " PUNUN " 
 
 IN Trinjans of the Punjab still pass the camels of 
 Punun laden with the Treasure of Sasi's heart, 
 and behind them comes Sasi, Princess of the 
 Punjab, bewailing herself. 
 
 One single night of joy they had together, and before 
 the morn had opened her eyes, the Camel drivers 
 from Punun's home came and stole the sleeping 
 Punun from Sasi's Arms and drove the Camels 
 across the sands of Sasi's lands. 
 
 1 Trinjan is the name of the hall where the girls of the city 
 sit together each with her own wheel to spin the cotton yarn. 
 Once it used to be the very heart and centre of a home industry, 
 as out of the cloth made by the spinnings of these girls the 
 parents used to make the marriage dowry for their daughters. 
 The charms of domestic life of the old Punjab are soon dis- 
 appearing. Vulgar life of imitation-civilisation is replacing an 
 old fragrant life. The scent of Mehdi and Koosambha is replaced 
 by alcoholic lavender to our great misfortune.
 
 12 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 O! why did the lovers drink the draughts of sleep? 
 Sasi's Prince of men was gone!! 
 
 Sasi comes seeking still her Prince of Love and there 
 searching the sands she dies still love-a thirst! 
 
 The Maidens of the Spinning Wheel sing the tragedy 
 in a choric song, and bury Sasi in the dust of 
 songs. From that dust maidenhood blooms up 
 anew, and Sasi's sisters wish again to love. 
 
 No death can kill Sasi, nor camels take away Punun 
 from the Punjab, for we daily see them pass in 
 visions of love; the camels pass before the 
 half-closed eyes of love-lorn dreamy girls! 
 
 THE STORY OF " SOHNI MAHIWAL " l 
 
 Sohni Mahiwal is another tale of love; 
 
 It tells of a Punjabi maiden of Gujrat, a potter's daugh- 
 ter, a maiden of wondrous beauty, who casts 
 a spell on the son of a merchant-prince of 
 Bukhara, without her knowing of it at all! 
 
 His caravan stops there in Sobni's town, he pretends 
 to trade in Gujrat vessels of clay; he goes to 
 the potter's house and buys the earthen vessels 
 as Sobni comes laden with pieces of her father's 
 ware for sale. 
 
 He buys dear and sells cheap, an ideal merchant! 
 
 He tosses away his coins for the sake of a glimpse of 
 his God. Ah! to bask in the beaming sun of 
 her face, somehow to feel blessed, though for 
 a moment, in peace of her presence!! 
 
 1 Mahiwal is the name of the cowherd who grazes cows and 
 buffaloes and looks after them. He is a poorly paid man, with 
 a shirt of home-made coarse cotton cloth and a black blanket, 
 armed with a long staff, and this is his all.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 13 
 
 Sohni is beautiful to him as nothing else is, his Faqir- 
 eyes see in her such rare perfection of curve and 
 line! 
 
 Here doth the heart of the wild lover from distant 
 Iran break up the chains of self-control; he falls 
 on his trembling knees to worship Man and God 
 and Love, in this one form ; he is half faint from 
 the bewildering perfume sent forth by her youth- 
 scented tresses ; half lost in wonder and worship 
 of this grand love that makes kings the slaves 
 of joy; the joy of being enchained with the 
 maiden-braids of a young girl that knows not 
 the charm of her self and the joy in her blossom- 
 ing youth, that delicate maiden-strength that 
 seems to mock at strong Death. 
 
 The followers are all gone! the camels and horses all 
 are sold, one by one the jewels and gems he had, 
 no thought of return, nor of the morrow, daunted 
 the Persian Prince! 
 
 The brave Irani at last was penniless! 
 
 The potter of Gujrat made him his Mabiwdl for debts 
 unpaid; no pity did he show to his customer, 
 once so rich and great and handsome! 
 
 But wings of rumour slowly scattered on the air the 
 news that Sohni now is deep in love! 
 
 To save the honour of the potter's house the potter 
 marries his daughter to some one else. 
 
 The Mahiwal is turned away from Gujrat in ruin! 
 
 The hospitable banks of the Chenab give a hut to the 
 Mahiwal and Sohni too is his! 
 
 No daughter of the Punjab could dream of another 
 Man, for her the world has but one, when found
 
 14 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 it is all. She gives herself to him and no foolish 
 rites of marriage nor law nor false honour nor 
 shame deter her mind nor daunt her soul from 
 loving the Man she loves. 
 
 She keeps her vow of love and her word with gods, she 
 saves the honour of the land where she is born, 
 faithful to her Man and God, never mind what 
 the world says or rumour does! 
 
 Sohni still swims at secret time of night across the 
 Chenab to see her Persian Prince. 
 
 No boat she has but a pitcher of baked clay; the 
 potter's daughter holds by the floating pitcher, 
 as she daily crosses the river Chenab, in the name 
 of God and Mahiwal. 
 
 Her sister-in-law exchanges one night Sohnfs boat of 
 clay concealed in a secret lonely bush with a 
 false-dyed, unbaked pitcher! And it is too late 
 when Sohni, dressed in the darkness of the night, 
 takes it in her hand. 
 
 Be as it may, life or no life, to-night too she still must 
 swim across to him or else how could she live 
 through the night! It was pitch dark, the night 
 was stormy and the Chenab was in flood; the 
 sky thundered high as she plied her hands and 
 swam between the bloodthirsty death-mouthed 
 waves ! ! 
 
 The Sisters of the Spinning Wheel sing still how Sohni 
 cried to the God of waters then. 
 
 " O Khwaja! Kkizar . n drown me not on my way to 
 Mahiwal, let me only swim across to my love, 
 
 1 He is the God of waters according to the Arabic and Persian 
 mythology.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 15 
 
 but on my way back from him, take my life as 
 thou willst, I shall have no complaint, but take 
 me safe across to my Mahiwalll " 
 
 How her soul rises strong when the waves engulf her; 
 it cries supreme: " Drown me! O Khizar! 
 if thou willst, come, try, and drown me now! 
 What, wilt thou sink my flesh and bones ! Take 
 this flesh and take these bones, I must fly across 
 to my Mahiwall God's golden strings of love 
 bind me with him so fast that thy waters can- 
 not untie them, I am my MahiwaFs life. 
 
 My soul shall soar, breaking all thy waters, straight 
 on to where my Mahiwdl waits for me. Drown 
 me, Khizar! drown, drown me as thou willst." 
 
 Such cries of Sohni's soul are heard still from sweet 
 little throats of the Sisters of the Spinning 
 Wheel and they repeat her message to her Sisters 
 of the Punjab Trinjans. The winds and waters 
 carry her screams in all the four directions. 
 Her soul passes, still whispering to every Punjabi 
 heart the power of love! 
 
 In Trinjans of the Punjab, her comrades still celebrate 
 the jubilee of her death! 
 
 Sobni's land is filled with songs of Sohni and all hearts 
 beat with pride; our daughters are so great 
 though they look like simple village maids, so 
 rude and illiterate! 
 
 Their ways of love we men imitate till we become as 
 strong in love of our Creator as they! 
 
 We snatch the tunes from their transparent throats 
 and fill with their cadence our hearts to make 
 them pure and intense !
 
 1 6 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 The simple Punjabi songs are like the light of morn to 
 men who follow the divine love, they are part of 
 the Punjab food of saints; on the soil of the 
 Punjab the saints live well! 
 
 VII 
 
 The saint saw how small yet how great is the measure 
 of joy of the Sisters of the Spinning Wheel!! 
 
 A mother-sent loaf of bread is enough! 
 
 A jug of water and a song sung in chorus with the 
 whirring wheels and humming throats, is enough ! 
 
 Enough are the rain-delights, the mango-blossoms are 
 their wealth ! ! 
 
 They feel the blossoms hanging on the trees, as ear- 
 rings in their own ears! They pluck them not, 
 for very joy ! The very sight of blossoms hanging 
 is delicious enough for them. 
 
 The hope of pleasing the mother by spinning well; 
 the hope of taking a basket of bobbins home to 
 win the approving word from the mother, such 
 is the innocent maiden life of the Punjab that 
 the saint saw, and it pleased him well! 
 
 How lovely are the gentle ways of unlettered maidens ! 
 
 The saint then murmured unto himself: "Oh! why 
 should not I work at my wheel and spin all day 
 and night, fine and well, ah! as well as they do, 
 lost in joyous labour of love, simple as a song, 
 and gain honour from my own Lord ? 
 
 What use are honours won abroad, if one is looked 
 down upon at home ? 
 
 I must labour as these girls toil to please the mother."
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 17 
 
 The saint said: "The heart of the Punjab girl is the 
 convent where worship of the son of Man is 
 taught. 
 
 The heart of woman is the Temple where Man is en- 
 shrined as God, 
 
 The Punjab is great for the love of Man more than for 
 the love of God." 
 
 VIII 
 
 The visions of the Trinjans are fresh, 
 
 Immortal is the past in innocent youth and lives again 
 
 all in the mind of Man] 
 Great are the Sisters of the Spinning Wheel! 
 They have the secret charm with which they call the 
 
 spirits of the past to come and talk to them. 
 Hir l comes and sings again the tunes of her heart to 
 
 maidens of the town: 
 " The foolish world knows Rdnjba as a man, my Rdnjba 
 
 is my God, Sisters of the Spinning Wheel! 
 The foolish world calls him a cowherd, a mere man, to 
 
 me the whole world is he, and God! 
 My soul repeats ' Rdnjha ! Rdnjba ! ' this repetition 
 
 is my Namdz\\ " 2 
 
 IX 
 
 The saint sees a wondrous vision in the Trinjans. 
 
 There yonder Rdnjbd is seated on a buffalo's back with 
 his lute on his lips, and the buffalo standing in 
 knee-deep water of a grassy swamp. 
 
 1 Hir and Rdnjha is a love story of the same type as Sohni 
 Mahiwdl. 
 
 1 Namaz is the Arabic word used for prayer, used by the 
 Prophet Mohammed.
 
 i8 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 From this side is seen going the Princess Hir with a 
 
 dish of sweets for her Ranjha, and straight she 
 
 goes to Ranjha looking neither to the right nor 
 
 to the left, 
 " Come! have a morsel, friend! from the day-break you 
 
 have had nothing. I bring you this dish I made 
 
 myself." 
 " But my hands are dusty," says Ranjha, " why have 
 
 you not brought some water for washing, O 
 
 Beloved ? " 
 " Forgive me, Ranjha, I forgot; but wash your hands, 
 
 here flows water ! ! " 
 Below' he "^washes his hands, as tears roll down her 
 
 eyes like a trickling little waterfall! 
 Thus Ranjha was feasted by his love in the open wastes 
 
 of Chenab ! 
 
 X 
 
 Says another sister of the Spinning Wheel: 
 
 (i) 
 
 Mother beats me, I cannot work, she asked me to fill 
 her earthen lamp with oil, but my hands shook, 
 I know not why the oil fell on the ground! 
 
 I do not know why I cannot work nor help my mother 
 nor spin the thread ! 
 
 comrades ! say what secret life is this ? 
 
 My youth is now a pain, yet without it I cannot live; 
 O say why pain is such a pleasure ? 
 
 1 know not why my mother rebukes me. 
 
 She once sent me to light a lamp from the flame of a 
 neighbour's lamp. See! my comrades! this
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 19 
 
 finger of mine is burned; I know not why my 
 
 finger was burned. I was but just lighting the 
 
 earthen lamp ! 
 You are a simple girl that knows not how to conceal 
 
 what can never be concealed ! 
 We know you have seen the Son of Man, your youth 
 
 cries for its owner, your heart needs the shade 
 
 of a Man. 
 
 O comrade! say, you are in love with a Man! 
 Your finger is burned; but you were not there when 
 
 lighting the lamp 1 
 Your hand carelessly slipped the wick aside and your 
 
 finger touched the flame that burnt it; but you 
 
 were not there, your eyes had strayed to the Man! 
 O comrade! tell us the name of the Man, and confess 
 
 to us, say, you are in love. 
 We will tell your mother now, we will ask for Henna 
 
 leaves, we will dye your hands and feet. 
 We will put on you this Madder-dyed shawl! 
 We will weave your maiden braids ! 
 We will sing your wedding songs, you will be now our 
 
 love-lit bride. 
 O comrade, say, what share of joy will be given us, the 
 
 Sisters of the Spinning Wheel ! 
 
 (2) 
 
 Sisters of the Spinning Wheel! 
 
 1 dreamt last night, the stars of Heaven grouped round 
 
 my head; I wore them all in my tiara, I looked 
 a Queen. 
 I swam in air, I stood above the clouds, my hair floated
 
 20 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 free in space, my shirt of cloth was dazzling 
 white, my shawl of home-spun cotton dyed with 
 majith shed its colour on the snowtops that lay 
 below and lit the horizon in eastern tints! 
 What does my dream mean ? O comrades mine ! 
 
 Thou art a creeper in full youth of leaf and flower and 
 
 vigour of sap. 
 Thy dream calls a figure of Man from the starry world 
 
 and he shall be the King and thou his Queen! 
 The stars do crown with glory the woman wedded to 
 
 love of Man. 
 Thus do the gods honour the wedded woman! it is the 
 
 sign of thy wedlock union with thy Man. 
 The god of love visits thee in thy sleep and makes thee 
 
 rich with Heavenly Love! 
 
 The saint turned aside and murmured to himself, 
 "What a saint is the girl in love!!" 
 
 XI 
 
 The saint comes oft and again to bow before the youth 
 
 and song of beautiful maidens. 
 He finds delight in the blossoming flowers of Youth, 
 
 a trance in the flowing life-perfuming tresses. 
 The roses are no sweeter, the snows are nowhere purer, 
 
 than in the holy face of a youth-unconscious girl ! 
 No fires burn brighter, no stars are quieter than her 
 
 eyes, the eyes that see the Figure of one she 
 
 loves !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 21 
 
 XII 
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 SHE has almost forgotten if she lives and moves, as her 
 soul drinks deep of the Fount of Vision that makes 
 the Sun a dream, and the Night but a Palanquin 
 in which the stars bear the Bride on high! 
 
 As the wedding day approaches, her life seems to be 
 ebbing from her; her dress is old and tattered, her 
 hair in sweet confusion! 
 
 Her mind is still, all thought of self-adornment is gone 
 from her. 
 
 All is quiet in that great Hush when maidenhood 
 sleeps, and wakes a new, new love ! 
 
 Her hair is dishevelled; the bosom heaves, her heart 
 quakes in a thousand reveried waitings for 
 things to be, in a half unwilling consent. 
 
 Her lips are athirst, her arms vibrate with an unknown 
 passion for life yet unknown. As the blood 
 glows beneath the skin, so all knowledge of the 
 life to come is behind a veil! 
 
 She almost faints with hope; this moment, pale and 
 white and cold as the dead; the next, a flame 
 springs from below her ashes ! 
 
 Her child-like rebel pride, her naughtiness is over 
 " I am the sister of my brave brothers and the 
 daughter of my kingly Father! How fine is 
 my Spinning Wheel; how high is the Door of 
 our House, where camels wait and horses neigh; 
 how full are our stores with wheat ! " 
 
 The sky is below her feet; all the world, she thinks, 
 
 must wait upon her joy ! 
 E
 
 22 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 It is no sin to be proud like this; no death to be dead 
 
 like this, at the feet of Love ! 
 
 In a few days, she has grown so thin and frail, that 
 she appears to live outside her physical frame; 
 her sisters support her as she rises to go, they 
 give her food and drink. 
 
 Ah ! she is but a shadow of her days of laughter : 
 For day and night pass alike in the silent chambers 
 
 of her soul. 
 
 Her lacquered wheel in Trinjans waits, and there it 
 shall wait for ever; 
 
 And the Mango-groves are waiting for the joyous 
 notes she sang. They still remember her, swim- 
 ming in air on her scarlet swing, hung with 
 hempen ropes on their high branches. They 
 remember how she shook with sheer delight 
 their long boughs; and what a rapturous dance 
 of leaves there was as she swung. 
 
 The Mango-groves shall wait for her for ever! 
 
 The village street that feels her joyous tread is sad. 
 
 The daughter of the town is to be wed! 
 
 Over and done with is the life of her father's roof, and 
 spent are the days of her babyhood, childhood 
 and girlhood. 
 
 She dies away into Love, a fit farewell to companions 
 of her girlhood ! 
 
 The Mango sees and the Peepal tree! 
 
 The scarlet wheel is witness of what has happened! 
 
 The eyes of parents are filled with tears as they hurry 
 about in joy of the wedding day of their pretty 
 daughter ! 
 
 The brothers' silent soliloquies disturb the village air!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 23 
 
 " Is my sister to go away from us, and from the roof 
 
 below which she was born ? Will she leave us 
 
 for ever ? " 
 " Who shall take my sister ?" speaks the younger 
 
 brother, " We are mighty, we will die, but we 
 
 will not let our sister go! " 
 The village drums are beating; the fingers of all the 
 
 village women gently tap the drums, and bid 
 
 them sing for mirth and merriment! 
 The drums resound with songs that rise ringing from 
 
 the silver throats of the village wives and fair 
 
 daughters ! 
 
 The House is holy where one has died in Love! 
 Rejoicings fill the town, and all feel rich because they 
 
 are giving the Bride to Love! 
 The earthen lamp is burning day and night in the 
 
 Bridal chamber as a symbol of her heart. 
 As the lamp lights the room, her heart shall light 
 
 a Home with Heaven's glow ; burning steady 
 
 and calm, like her life, in the service of dear 
 
 Love. 
 
 And by her sit the Sisters of the Spinning Wheel! 
 Well might the Queen of the three worlds envy the 
 
 tenderness of soul they pour at the feet of the 
 
 Bride-Queen! 
 
 They understand, and they do heru nuttered commands. 
 Each daughter of the Punjab is a Queen; as is well 
 
 known to the Sisters of the Spinning Wheel! 
 They know the worth of Love, of the stars that keep a 
 
 solemn, sacred watch!! 
 The All-Provider makes the poorest father richer than 
 
 kings !
 
 24 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Ah ! how he gives his all ! 
 
 He gives his very self to Love. No leaf can be torn 
 from even a tree without shedding a drop of 
 its blood ! 
 
 "Come, brothers! come," the voices call within; 
 "and dye the hands of your sister now!" 
 " The eldest first ! Here take these marble- 
 hands and dye the palms with these Mehdi 
 leaves." 
 
 The hands are cold ; with tears in his eyes the brother 
 puts on her palms the Mehdi leaves ! 
 
 They have bathed the Bride, and laved her hair. Her 
 maiden tresses they have combed, and parted 
 them in the middle with the perfumed wax; 
 full smooth is the hair on either side; a little 
 vermilion traces the parting line of her tresses! 
 
 The Bride is veiled in splendour of gorgeous silk in folds, 
 embroidered with gold-thread and gems. 
 
 They adorn the Bride and sing the songs in whose joys 
 the man is man, a peasant, or a prince! 
 
 A thousand songs float in the air; every moment new 
 tears flow and new feelings rise from depths 
 below. 
 
 The Sun and Moon stand on Dharma l that gives a 
 soul to another for the sake of Love. 
 
 Heaven comes down to earth to kiss the Bride almost 
 dead in new, new Love! 
 
 Out of space the angels gather, and sing in Chorus with 
 the Sisters of the Spinning Wheel the Triumph 
 
 of Love ! ! 
 
 1 The law of being.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 25 
 
 XIII 
 
 The Saint saw all this from day to day and said: 
 " Boast not, O Saints! God is great. On all his 
 creatures He bestows these moments of the 
 loftiest Love of Man to Man! How sublime this 
 surrender of the Bride to the Bridegroom in 
 Love! 
 
 Would I could die, like her, to this House of my child- 
 hood, and wake in that House of Love! 
 
 Would I could bid, like her, that silent deep Farewell! 
 
 But my soul! is this all what they call Death? "
 
 POEMS OF A SIKH
 
 POEMS OF A SIKH 
 
 THE UNKNOWN GOD 
 
 THE TURBAN'D MAN 
 
 A TURBAN'D Man! The owner of the skies! 
 
 I hear his footfalls in the garden of my heart, my life 
 throbs in his lotus feet ! 
 
 Eternal are his Turban Folds of Love! 
 
 The planets wait as birds in nests as at close of night, 
 for the Dawn that breaks above them. 
 
 He is the king of Creation's heart; he wears the crown 
 of love-grown cotton and love-spun thread and 
 love-woven cloth. 
 
 His crown is made of the rolling Waves of the Sea of 
 Light! 
 
 Has not the Sun dropped from those Turban Folds ? 
 
 The stars were scattered abroad at night in the sky, 
 
 Above them I saw the Edge of his Crown of Mists ! 
 
 The Beaming Faces said, " Tis Mid-night Moon," but 
 I, of the lower rank than they, at night, while 
 digging earth, murmured slowly to myself 
 within, lest someone heard my word: It is the 
 light, the light from his Turbanned Brow. 
 
 AN UNKNOWN MAN 
 
 AN Unknown Man, who roams disguised on earth! 
 He picked me up from a heap of the Dead at night, 
 and on his back he took me to his hut, 
 29
 
 30 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Awake at nights, he nursed and made me whole; 
 Heaven streamed through the windows of his Eyes and 
 
 lit my Soul with the Fiery Dream of Dawn, 
 I forgot him in his gift of Life to me, 
 And He helped me to forget, him. Such is Youth! how 
 
 it forgets its maker! 
 
 An Unknown Man who roams disguised on earth! 
 I find him still with me, he aids me on. 
 
 THE MAN WHO BECOMES ME 
 
 BORN of Mother Earth, and Father Heaven, that Man 
 
 who is becoming me, 
 His feelings are not like my feelings, his love hath not 
 
 the looks of love, his glances beam with God-like 
 
 meaning in silent depth of depths! 
 His Earth-like love! His annoying Silence! 
 The Seed, the Earth, the Air, the Water, he that enfolds 
 
 me within, and makes of me a Flower Free, a 
 
 Fruit, a sweet Perfume and tells me it is I who 
 
 grow and bloom. 
 Born of the Mother Earth, the Father Heaven, the 
 
 Man who is being made into me. 
 
 THE MAN IN ME 
 
 THE Man in me! Who lives within unseen! 
 
 Within my brows I bear his brows, in my hair, his hair, 
 
 In my bones, his bones, I feel his heart in mine. 
 
 With him I am, I know, the Son of God for whose joy 
 
 and glory all Creation waits, 
 And without him, I am an emptied shell, a cry, a
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 31 
 
 wandering wail, less than the worm that creeps 
 
 in fallen wood, less than the weed that grows in 
 
 mud! 
 But no! the man in me, he watches, he sees, he leaves 
 
 me not; 
 Hail, Master! Son of Man! 
 
 THE MAN IN ME, AND NOT IN ME 
 
 THE Man in me! And not in me! He comes and goes 
 
 of his own accord ! 
 
 I remain as a vacant house with silent walls and dust. 
 A strange friend who has his own laws of love, he would 
 
 leave me, as if never to return; 
 But then comes he in a flood of rain of tears! 
 He makes me wait as a woman waits for man, but Ah! 
 
 the moment when he strains me in his Embrace ! 
 
 What am I ? But a peal of bells, a song! ! 
 Each hair of mine grows a tongue and enchanted bathes 
 
 in holy bliss and grateful wonder! 
 Each pore of mine is nectar-laved, my very flesh cries : 
 
 "Hail, Holy one!" 
 
 WHEN ? I KNOW NOT! 
 
 WHEN ? I know not ! My dawn might break at night ! 
 My man might return to me in sleep, in dreams lovelit 
 
 with the splendour of a thousand days ! ! 
 And a thousand may be the number of my forlorn 
 
 nights ! ! 
 One moment but of this Fairy sleep so condenses for 
 
 me, Life, Love, Faith, Joy, God, Man, Heaven 
 
 and earth in one.
 
 32 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 I sleep with my soul aching and wake with the song of 
 
 Hail, Lord! on my lips and tongue, 
 And happy life like a wave flows in a thousand streams 
 
 from translucent walls of flesh that should retain 
 
 it all, 
 
 But it flows to rivers, rocks and air and all. 
 I give a feast of myself to the Universe ! 
 
 THE SILVER FEET 
 
 THE Soaring One of the shining Silver Feet!! 
 
 They are his feet that in their silver flight trail in my 
 
 heart ! 
 My eyes like two crying cranes soar after him in the 
 
 holy Blue of Heaven. 
 Afar he flies ! 
 And from the invisible heights come no news, but a 
 
 shower of Bliss, a Nectar-Rain that feeds, and 
 
 mak.es me rich. 
 I sit and wait for him on the red brown earth, all wet 
 
 and drowned below! 
 Ah me! The Vision of the Invisible! 
 His Silver Feet, my Life, my prop, my stay ! ! 
 
 GLORY! GLORY! EVERYWHERE! 
 
 MY steps are unsteady with joy! 
 
 I fall, I rise, I sink and soar in him. 
 
 The Rain of Nectar floods my heart and melts my 
 
 mind away in holiness of God, 
 Enraptured thus and with his Sight I see all things are 
 
 divine and fair. 
 Glory ! Glory ! Everywhere.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 33 
 
 The Earth, the Sky overhead, all things are kindled 
 
 with the joy of his Light of Life, 
 This man is God, he cometh everywhere. 
 All worlds in him and he in all, the deathless for ever! 
 Glory ! Glory ! Everywhere. 
 
 His MIRACLES ARE GREAT! 
 (From Asa-Di-Far) 
 
 His miracles are great! Day and night he hath made. 
 
 He sends the Spring laden with flowers; he grants 
 the gift of youth. 
 
 He created the world, and fashioned with his own 
 hands the Universe! 
 
 Woman is beautiful, and glorious is the man to whom 
 she gives her heart and soul. 
 
 He unites us, he separates, he makes us thirst and 
 hunger, he gives us wine and bread. 
 
 His Miracle it is by which we live. Our mind and soul, 
 our heart, our self, the endless space, the foot- 
 falls of ever marching time, the mountains, the 
 sea and air, all these are his miracles. 
 
 He is Great ! ! 
 
 In his fear blow great winds and gentle airs. 
 
 In his fear flow the countless rivers, 
 
 In his fear move the stars, and the Sun and Moon, 
 whose march of myriad miles never ends!! 
 
 In his fear live kings, adepts, heroes and gods; the sky 
 doth arch in awe, the earth lies firm, the worlds 
 are coming in and going out with his Breathings. 
 
 He subsists Unafraid above all things, the One Formless 
 Is!!
 
 34 
 
 THE TWILIGHT OF THY GLANCE 
 
 THE Twilight of Thy Glance cometh like a shower 
 pouring Beauty, Youth and Flowers down ! ! 
 
 The dry and mouldered leaves on forest paths become 
 green wetted by Thy Glance, and crown the 
 trees, uplifted by the Twilight-Fall. 
 
 The Twilight of Thy Glance like an influence steals 
 into my Soul and touches my heart and strikes 
 the Chords with mighty force, raising a storm 
 of music and song, crying: "Awake and say, 
 Hail, Lord! Awake and say, Hail, Holy One." 
 
 NAM: THE NAME OF THE INFINITE 
 
 THE Name of the Infinite! The Sat Nam, that lives 
 
 from heart to heart, from lips to lips, the Fire of 
 
 Life that goes from man to man!! 
 It was ere Time began, it is and shall be. 
 The Spell of Love that never dies and hides the Sat Nam 
 
 in the Son of Man, where wonder opes the Door 
 
 of Life that no thinking can unbar: 
 The Nam fresh-dyed from red lips of Love kindles a 
 
 perpetual Song in me! And in its glow, meseems, 
 
 all things are good. 
 This world is Heaven, the winds and waters speak, 
 
 and every blade of grass whispers its joy. 
 The trees with trembling leaves stand in prayer! 
 The morning birds raise hymns of nascent mirth!! 
 Insects have anklets on their little ankles and make a 
 
 music as they march and swell one great Chorus.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 35 
 
 All things are made of Song. 
 
 The flocks of sheep with uplifted heads, the playing 
 
 lambs with mouths full of milk are gathering 
 
 round the shepherd's voice; 
 The stars are burning bright in the firmament ; 
 Blessed is the earthern lamp that lights my house! 
 
 its light is the joy with which I wait for Him 
 
 Whom I do not know how to name : 
 He is my Sultan who rolls down a Sea of Life in me and 
 
 asks not how I spend, but fills it from age to 
 
 age out of His own stores, and floods the Soul 
 
 with Fragrant Beauty, and hides Himself in the 
 
 limitless expanse!! 
 His voice alone rings in my ears and sweet repose 
 
 shuts in my eyes, my lips vibrate with passion 
 
 for the Universe! Hail, Lord! 
 
 He is the Truth to Whom if we be loyal in love and 
 
 faith, we are safe; or else we die: 
 The world where He is not, is death to us. 
 The man, woman, bird or beast, in whom if we see Him 
 
 not, are mere deceptions, pain, and death. 
 Devoid of Him, all aims dissipate, all desires chain the 
 
 Soul, and all Karma condemns. 
 He visits me in strange guises; strange are His ways; 
 
 one seldom can recognise Him as He assumes 
 
 different forms. 
 He comes in wars, in great catastrophes; in pain, in 
 
 suffering, in hunger; and in the faithlessness 
 
 of friends and beloved ones. 
 Alike the kings, the slaves of earth deceive when we 
 
 are out of tune with Him.
 
 36 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 When I lean on such frail weeds as these, or when I 
 run after the mirage of the world, breathless 
 to quench my thirst, my soul returns abashed 
 to me, finding no support, or no fountain 
 there. 
 
 I sit in deep sorrow, deserted by all things, deceived 
 by the best beloved. 
 
 When suddenly, Lo, a Figure of Light in Heaven 
 saying, " Look! I am." 
 
 Then I know, HE is. Then I recognise my Man, my 
 Word, my Lord and Master. 
 
 My Light returns to me, casting out doubts and de- 
 lusions, rekindling in me the fire of faith, giving 
 me again a rebirth in His own Love. This is 
 Nam: this is the Holy One. 
 
 I forget Him in the familiar forms of Maya, and often 
 I lose myself in illusive Beauty that like fine 
 vapour rests on the waters of Change, within 
 the rocky waste that allures, only to take my 
 heart, and throw it upon the rocks, and break 
 it in pieces. But He forgets me not! 
 
 Fair God! Keep me with Thyself! Let me live in the 
 steady light of Thy eternal shape. 
 
 Let me kiss Thy lotus Feet, resting there as the babe 
 rests on the loving, milk-filled breasts of the 
 Mother, covered with her shawl secure from all 
 harm. 
 
 At Thy Feet forever; let me swing for ever in Thy 
 Cradle of Light that hangs from Heaven with 
 strings of gold. At Thy bidding let thine Angels 
 rock me to and fro, and gently keep pulling 
 me up.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 37 
 
 Let them draw me up like a child fallen in a well, until 
 the cradle of my love lie at Thy Feet. 
 
 It is this gentle drawing up, this lifting of me by Thy 
 Golden Strings coming down to save me, of Thy 
 own Will, that is what I know as my Life! 
 
 This communion with Thee is my Soul. 
 
 What then shall I call Thee? Thou art Law? Truth? 
 Heaven ? Love ? Nam ? and Man ? I under- 
 stand by Thy Figure of Love within me or with- 
 out, that Thou art with me, somewhere, some- 
 how, in the horizon of my heart and soul! 
 
 Be with me, O Beloved! For Thou art never known 
 to leave him whom once Thou callest Thine own. 
 
 Thy Infinite Love makes me bold; and I err only to 
 draw Thy Great Compassion down. 
 
 I am known to be as great a sinner as Thou a Saviour. 
 But with all my sins, I still wait at Thy Door 
 where Mercy waits for me. 
 
 Thy Touch alchemical turns dross into nobler metals. 
 
 Thy Glance uplifts beings from lower depths to heights 
 unknown. 
 
 For Thy Grace, O Lord, I wait ! 
 
 Teach me Thy Name, let me breathe in Thy Love and 
 grow young. 
 
 GURU NANAK 
 
 THE Buddha seated on the white Lotus with his Nepal 
 
 tresses knotted on his brow; 
 The Christ with his maiden braids, his God-lit eyes, 
 
 his transfigured face; 
 Mohamed of the direct glance, with his Blazing Heart 
 
 and cleaving sword, that flash and kindle the
 
 38 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 deserts with Heaven's Glow; All Heaven is 
 
 revealed in them, as a whole nation is athrob 
 
 in a single man, as a babe is a-stir in the mother's 
 
 soul ; 
 A Man of God stands behind men, to guide and to 
 
 teach; at his feet they pour out soul!! 
 Each soul has a divine Man, whether he will or no, 
 
 behind him, on whom he trusts alike for a 
 
 glimpse of God and His Universe, and for the 
 
 unfoldment of his own self, trusting him when 
 
 the soul is in distress. 
 Our thoughts and deeds assume fantastic shapes, and 
 
 our daily life dogs us in man's image. 
 Not building ourself on the Man of God, we build our 
 
 self on sand. 
 The dirt of daily deeds settles on us, such is our fate. 
 
 Without the Man of God in us, all is vanity; 
 
 good Karma, or bad, binds us alike. 
 It is true for us forever, God Himself cometh to man 
 
 in the shape of Man who spells Him for us : this 
 
 is Nam. The Man is Nam. He is the Sign and 
 
 Symbol: Hail, Holy One! 
 He is the sign of Him, the best of all signs. 
 He is Sat Nam, the Truth Eternal, Essence Infinite 
 
 the Ever Living, who hath no shape, no colour, 
 
 whom no lines contain, whom no words can 
 
 define; one Indivisible Unity. 
 He that lives, beyond Time and Space and Thought, 
 
 one like unto ourselves, whom we know as Man, 
 His presence, in lands, in waters, above, below!! lo, 
 
 it is seen in the form of the Man of God; as the 
 
 Sun in the shining lens.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 39 
 
 The world met him in Krishna, Buddha; in Christ, 
 in Mohamed. But I know Him as my Lord and 
 Father, Baba, Guru Nanak, Him have I seen 
 not once, but for ten generations. He, in a thous- 
 and ways gave signs to us of Nam, the Holy One. 
 
 Taking the three worlds in His lap, He hid himself 
 behind a man, in his heart, He was. 
 
 Guru Angad born of Nanak's limbs was he. 
 
 I saw him, Guru Angad, concealing the All-Father once 
 again in a majestic form of man, the silver knot 
 of hair on high, the white beard flowing down 
 like a river of light, a tall, ancient, stern man of 
 love and labour, a farmer of men, the owner of 
 Sat Nam, Nanak is Amar Das ! 
 
 Guru Amar Das took on the name and shape of Guru 
 Ram Das, the golden Temple of God, the Guru 
 Ram Das a continuous hymn divine, the day 
 of the worlds of soul, the sweetness of all things. 
 
 Guru Ram Das illuminated his son Arjandev with 
 Himself! 
 
 Guru Arjan thrilled creation with the Father's Voice. 
 
 Guru Arjander produced out of himself Guru Har 
 Govind, who in turn bowed to Har Rai Guru! 
 
 He saw Guru Nanak again in Har Krishna Guru, who 
 sighted again " Baba Bakale " 1 
 
 Guru Tegh Bahadur rose and came like a thousand 
 dawns and in his throat we hear the song of the 
 Father, in his form we see the ancient Nanak, 
 whose witnesses are the sun and moon and whom 
 the earth and sky are still witnessing. 
 
 1 Baba Nanak is at Bakala. So said Guru Har Krishna at 
 Delhi while departing from the body.
 
 40 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 The stars shiver in their seats with joy as he goes 
 riding his splendid steed; his blue-hued horse 
 stamping worlds with thunder, and what an 
 almighty thrilling of creation's Aura ! 
 
 Guru Govind Singh is the name of Guru Nanak when 
 he rides. 
 
 The Ancient Huntsman, before whose arrows flies the 
 Stag of Death, the old Guru Nanak armed 
 with shield and quiver full of arrows swung 
 around the shoulder and two scimitars hanging 
 below. 
 
 He wears the starry-crest and carries a hawk on his 
 thumb, and flags of the True Kingship of the 
 Heaven! 
 
 His flags flutter high in Heaven and Angels sing Hail, 
 Lord!! 
 
 The Wearer of the Blue Garments! the Rider on the 
 Blue Horse ! 
 
 The Commander of the Army of his Saints, the Sikhs, 
 the Disciples made as great by Him as He 
 himself, the Angels and more than Angels, the 
 armies of the Heroes of the world to defend the 
 purposes of God on Earth!! 
 
 Behold! Guru Nanak is seen in Guru Govind Singh 
 as the flash of sword, his Love takes the shape 
 of arrows, his Love is a Storm of spears. 
 
 Oh! the keen, keen rays of his glance! . 
 
 Death and bloodshed save the man! 
 
 There is paradise below the flying arrows ! ! 
 
 There is Anbad 1 in the twanging of the bows ! ! 
 
 There is slumber for the saints on the edge of swords! 
 1 The hidden music of the Infinite.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 41 
 
 The Figure of Love lies arrow-pierced on earth, no 
 blood but milk of love, the Amrit? flows ferti- 
 lising the world with life!! 
 
 The cold steel falls on fender necks of His children; 
 
 But what steel can touch, what fire can burn Nanak ? 
 
 No sword can cut the rays of light. 
 
 Death everywhere, death to the right, death to the 
 left, but death can touch not a hair of him, nay, 
 not a hair of those who are his own. 
 
 Guru Nanak is still with us, a Song, a Book; Guru 
 Grantha is in every Home!! 
 
 And the Father sings still so sweet, His voice still rings 
 in our ears, His figure still flits before us as a 
 man whose eyes meet ours, whose lotus feet we 
 touch, who talks to us. 
 
 The Master is still before us in His Sikh, in His Saint, 
 the Man is still the Centre of life. 
 
 God dwells still in the voice of His Saints; this is the 
 " Changing Permanence " of things Eternal. 
 
 The Saint reminds us of the Father's love, he tells us: 
 " Look, the Father-of-All is still standing behind, 
 who sees ye, but whom ye see not. 
 
 " Be full of reverence every moment of your life." 
 
 " The Father sees, the Father watches His crops, the 
 Father is all awake, Baba sleeps not, Baba 
 spreads over ye like a tree whose canopy is the 
 broad blue sky, it is all His shade!! " 
 
 It is not the sky but the Father's Tree whose leaves 
 and branches are made of Angels! 
 
 This is Hari Nam. 2 
 
 1 Nectar. 
 
 2 The Name of God, i.e., Absorption in the love of God.
 
 42 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 "I still am here! My children, awake and say Hail, 
 
 Master! " 
 The Father still comes to us in the heart of His Saints 
 
 in whom the Light of the Father dwells; He 
 
 and His sons are one. 
 He sings to us the chants of the Father. 
 He lulls us to rest and sleep. 
 He blesses us in smiting steel, in the rain of arrows 
 
 rain His blessings down. 
 
 He bathes us in blood, He laves us with fire. 
 Die glad saying Hail, Lord ! This world is not all here, 
 
 this is not the end, nor beginning here, worlds 
 
 on worlds beyond, the Regions yet unknown, 
 
 they shall open up after this death. 
 Beware! let not the Guru-given fire within die out! 
 
 keep up the flame of Nam, let not the flame die 
 
 out!! 
 This lamp of Nam shall light thy path beyond 
 
 death; in scorching heat, it will spread on 
 
 thy head a cool and dense deep shade, this, 
 
 like a Talisman, will yield to thee all that thou 
 
 desirest. 
 Hart Nam will quench thy thirst in regions beyond, 
 
 it will yield thee a pair of wings on which ye 
 
 would fly up to the Guru singing Hail, Lord! to 
 
 the throne of God. 
 Of what avail is it if ye gain the whole world and lose 
 
 your soul, let not the Glow of Nam fade!! 
 
 These are the distant shores where He sends thee to 
 win through life or death, through pain or 
 pleasure, the Treasure of Nam for thyself.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 43 
 
 Spend not. Accumulate the Divine Wealth, the Sub- 
 stance-Love of which thy Soul is made. 
 
 Naught else availeth. 
 
 At Death's Door shall lie what you, deluded, have 
 called your own, all goodness and all virtues too. 
 
 The world received you as a living babe, a flower divine"' 
 with moving ruby lips; your soul came smiling, 
 any pair of arms could lift you up and make 
 you their own and love ! ! 
 
 But see now, how they shall send you forth, a wrinkled 
 miserable old man despised by all, they shall 
 send you out of this world and burn the body 
 which they embraced with so much love!! 
 
 The grains of Love, the moments spent in Simran, in 
 
 Nam, hoarded ant-like one by one, shall survive 
 
 and be thy own helpers, thy guides and friends. 
 Thou art the architect of thy own Home beyond the 
 
 realms of this life and death. 
 Make it then as thou willst, make it of anguish or pain, 
 
 of longing for wealth or fame or objects of sense; 
 
 thy longing will be there, naught else; 
 Or make it a Temple where God may dwell with thee, 
 
 filling thy eternity with bliss. 
 Say Hail, Lord! This Word the angels guard. 
 This Word lives in the Saints, and they all would help. 
 This Word doth bridge the gulf between this Near and 
 
 Far, and joins this Life with That beyond what 
 
 they call Death. 
 No Death for him who breathes each breath in Wah- 
 
 Guru, who takes each step of life in Divine 
 
 Communion !
 
 44 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Eternity lives in one breath!! 
 
 One little breath doth make Eternity ! ! 
 
 The Holy One, Lord of All, is in the Saint as fragrance 
 is in the rose-leaves. 
 
 The combined charm of the beauty of the rose and her 
 fragrance is one ! ! 
 
 They are thine and thou art theirs who have given 
 themselves to God and live their lives on Earth 
 as Trusts of God and spend them as He wills 
 in unquestioning love and faith, in continuous 
 life unbroken by a breath. 
 
 Love for the Man of God is very love of God. 
 
 This faith is Nanak's love for man. 
 
 This common thing is precious beyond value, 
 
 This is what Jewellers know. 
 
 This ruby of Nam they alone can prize. 
 
 This Enchanted Stone contains all-God. 
 
 This is all-Sustainer, All-Encompasser Nam. 
 
 This is that which holds the worlds all together, 
 
 This is the Charmed Word, this is Nanak: 
 
 This is Love, call what thou canst call, this is the Name- 
 less, Formless, Casteless, Tasteless God. 
 
 My soul! Rise and say, Blessed be Guru Nanak! 
 
 I AM THE CHILD LOST IN THE WORLD-FAIR! 
 
 I AM the child lost in the world-fair! 
 
 I know no language, I can only say : " Pray, take me to 
 
 my Father." I can give no more, nor my country 
 
 nor town, nor street. 
 
 I am afraid of men, I long for my own Mother! 
 Her arms alone I know, her caresses alone can soothe
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 45 
 
 me into that dewy sweet slumber, her touch I 
 
 know, her voice I recognise. 
 This is my knowledge as much as a calf has or as 
 
 much as the little ones of the sparrow have. 
 I know this is my mother at sight of her, my limbs 
 
 would speak out what no language can. 
 My whole body is a tongue that calls outj 
 " My Father! " " My Mother! " 
 Nothing answers. Stars sweep on, and answer not, 
 
 though I looked at them for hundreds of nights; 
 
 the streams run on, the hills stand calm, the 
 
 trees grow and winds blow heeding me not. 
 The sky replies not, nor doth the moon talk to me, 
 
 no one tells me where is my Father. 
 My cries are lost in the wilderness, no one has a heart 
 
 that cries. 
 
 The birds alone, my dumb companions crowd around 
 me and perch on my head and shoulders, they 
 sing to beguile me but I cry again!! 
 
 No songs can heal my pain, no shows amuse. 
 
 How should a little living baby, made of flesh and bone, 
 cry not ? 
 
 And who could beguile him but his own mother whom 
 his cries are calling out of time and space? 
 
 Until the child is laid with his little bosom on the 
 bosom that gave it birth and Mother's lips kiss 
 his cheeks and his infant hands entwine her 
 neck, and mother's half-closed eyes look into 
 the joy-lit baby eyes, how could a living babe 
 be soothed to rest ? 
 
 To the little one, mother is almighty.
 
 46 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 To it her presence is all. 
 
 The baby's Mother is his God-given God: Mother is all. 
 
 My cries would stop, my pain would cease, my face 
 would beam, my soul would glow like a flower, 
 when in her arms. My flesh knows her. 
 
 I am the child lost in the world-fair ! 
 
 The wise men came, they took me in their lap, they 
 roamed with me from tent to tent and asked 
 me, is this your Father? 
 
 In endless roamings, I was taken to kings, heroes and 
 saints, to prophets, poets, thinkers, young and 
 old; I was taken to queens, mothers of god-like 
 men, angelic women famed for all tenderness of 
 heart and goodness of soul that makes a woman 
 so fair and noble; 
 
 The brighter the tents, the gayer the guests, the more 
 godly the dwellers, the fairer the womankind 
 and the brighter the jewels they wore, the 
 more painful grew my pain and my very soul 
 cried: "My Father"! "My Mother"! 
 
 I have grown up now, but not yet have I seen my 
 Father; good people have toiled but not yet has 
 my Mother come! 
 
 Birds have flown everywhere seeking her for me but no 
 news yet, nothing avails. 
 
 Save me ! I am growing mad. 
 
 My fears make me to stumble at every step. 
 
 I saw a young-old man, he had a white beard, a snow- 
 white turban, I flew into his arms and cried 
 "Father"! 
 
 My soul returned to me, still not finding for itself what 
 no one else could find for it!!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 47 
 
 I saw a rider, a splendid rider on a splendid steed; I 
 ran after the horse; the rider turned not, the 
 horse galloped away. 
 
 I knew not my madness grew and I flew into the arms 
 of any man and woman, crying " My Father," 
 "My Mother!" 
 
 I was mad, I saw my Father in clouds, in air, I saw him 
 under the shades of the stars, I was restless. 
 
 A boy lost from infancy and brought up on the knees 
 of rocks and fed by birds of passage, whose home 
 has been the market place, who never met a 
 glance from among the thousand pairs of eyes 
 glancing into each other, who never had a mouth- 
 ful of milk where a thousand breasts feed a 
 thousand lips, who never had the sensation of 
 an embrace where thousands of mothers embrace 
 their little ones. 
 
 The calf still lowqd for the Mother-cow, the cow was 
 looking for her calf, the love-lowings disturbed 
 God's Creation: but such was fate, they could 
 not reach each other. 
 
 One noon, on burning sands, the world-scorched mad 
 man saw in dream-light a Figure of Heaven: 
 
 All-attracting, all-piercing Beauty that buys the soul 
 of man as a slave of God by a glance, in whose 
 all-containing sight the man forgets all else, 
 in whose Almighty Glance the soul soars, tran- 
 scending time and space, whose lifting eyelids 
 signal a rain of stars. 
 
 Ah! a thousand new births and a thousand deaths in 
 the space of a Glance!
 
 48 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 One Glance of the all-creating Beauty ! ! 
 
 The dumb limbs of the universe with one pure vibration 
 speak of this Beauty. 
 
 The Heavens came down to me as a tall, majestic figure 
 of holy youth, joyous, tender and soft, meek 
 and mild, and sweet like a rose, and common 
 like a child of man, radiant, made of flesh, 
 fragrant, a wonderful Being in whom I saw my 
 all, my Father, Mother, Friend and Master. 
 
 This Figure is the Mother. My Mother comes. 
 
 She took me in her lap, me a man with long long hair 
 and a flowing beard that had some silver from 
 the dawn that breaks beyond this death, a 
 beard streaked with a few reminder-rays of the 
 yonder life, me a trembling old man, ill-dressed 
 in tattered rags, bare-headed, bare-footed, a 
 pilgrim lost in the sands. 
 
 The son of man thus lay asleep unconscious. 
 
 When the pilgrim woke, he was a holy man. 
 
 All limbs of clay were transmuted into those of gold, 
 recast, remade in life of soul. 
 
 The long journey through life on life is over; the sun 
 did roll for this, for this the lamps of stars! 
 
 Long tresses knotted above by her fair hands, which 
 a snow-white turban covers, an iron ring on the 
 wrist, two scimitars concealed at the side, a 
 flowing beard a man well-dressed like a soldier, 
 the pilgrim rose from his sleep. 
 
 A little hut in the desert he makes, his own handicraft, 
 his art, thraugh whose roof made of dry grass- 
 blades peep the sun and moon;
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 49 
 
 A pitcher of red clay, a shallow cup for its lid and a 
 bed made of golden straws, neat like the inside 
 of a bird's nest where come fair-plumed birds 
 to drink with man a beakful of water and pick 
 a few small grains of wheat and maize. 
 
 The Man of the hut, like a bird in its nest, now swings 
 free in nature's infinite sun and air and cloud 
 and rain and storm ! ! 
 
 Once more the son of Man is alive with God's life, 
 devoid of the lower self, one with God, yet still 
 with an innocent self as much as that of a bird 
 that loves the dawn, with self just enough to be 
 a man to vibrate with wonder and love and awe, 
 feeling as much as one can feel on earth for 
 others who are lost, meddling with no one's 
 affairs, yet watching the time when best one 
 could help without giving unrest and pain!! 
 
 He is the child-man who speaks the language newly 
 learnt: "Hail, Master!" "Hail, Holy One!" 
 
 His lips move with this Word, the Word runs in his 
 very blood. 
 
 He cannot live without this Word. 
 
 It is his air, his sky and land. 
 
 As fish in water, this "Hail, Master! " is his sea, out 
 of this sea he dies. 
 
 Others have much to live by, but he has none, nothing 
 more. 
 
 All is this. It is his life and the fountain of life from 
 whence the life flows into him. 
 
 It is his kith and kin, his name and fame, his treasure 
 great. 
 
 His Heaven is Nam, he cannot live outside his hut.
 
 50 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 In this Word is the life of his Saviour, this is his 
 
 Saviour. 
 
 He suffocates in air devoid of Nam. 
 The angel of his noon-dreams lives with him. 
 The Mother conies to him in dreams and tells him 
 
 secrets of life. 
 He knows all, knowing most when knowing least, in 
 
 sleep, all made of dreams ! 
 He breathes freely, he depends on nothing. 
 No desires disturb his unrippling mind swimming like 
 
 a lotus in a sea of perfect self-contained peace. 
 Borne on the wings of the heavenly zephyrs of the 
 
 Guru-given Nam, the little boat of his human 
 
 frame sails to the Infinite. 
 The man by the Master's light is transformed! 
 
 I am with my Father. 
 
 I sleep and wake in Him. 
 
 He encompasseth me; when I stumble, wonder of 
 wonders! I fall in His lap! 
 
 I love the moon as it ascends now from behind the 
 straw-thatchings of my hut, I love to see the 
 break of dawn from my bed of straw, I love to 
 look at the stars, and the high and still higher 
 sky whose vastness is my joy. 
 
 In the lap of my Father with my bowl filled with milk, 
 I am what no kings can be. 
 
 My life is now a farewell to this world-fair! 
 
 It is my Father's call and I go. 
 
 Seated on the summits high of love, I say: " Earth! 
 O Sky! O rolling winds and waters! O day!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 51 
 
 O night! I ccnd from here to you, my farewell 
 
 greetings ! 
 Revolving seasons ! Man, woman, O child ! with folded 
 
 hands, let me greet ye with my Master's salute: 
 
 Sat Sri Akdl ! l 
 Let me, at parting of the ways, repeat to you what my 
 
 Master said to me: know this as truth, 
 One Nam alone is our saviour! 
 Nam alone is Love, Nam is truth and light, 
 Nam is the beginning, Nam the end, Nam is the way 
 
 and lamp, Nam is the end-all and be-all, no one 
 
 phase of life can define Nam, all life is in it 
 
 contained, this is all. 
 Call it as you will, this is Guru Nanak's life of love! " 
 
 1 The well-known Sikh cry, that addresses God as the universal 
 Father.
 
 POEMS ON S1MRAN
 
 POEMS ON SIMRAN 
 
 THE WHOLE HORIZON OF Mr MIND 
 
 THE whole horizon of my mind is lit with the joy of 
 
 the sight of the Stream of Heaven, as it comes 
 
 flying down the steeps to me, 
 A stream of soft mists ethereal that from far far off 
 
 flows into me ; it is a volatile sense of joy that 
 
 fills me. 
 It is the joy that the lotus has when it is kissed by the 
 
 rising sun, ah! the morning joy of birds!! 
 The mat on which my soul kneels down to pray is this 
 
 Joy-mist that fills me with the sense of Thy 
 
 Omnipresence. 
 The exquisite fragrance of knowledge that Thou art 
 
 somewhere intoxicates me. 
 My head reels with joy, my flesh grown translucent 
 
 cries out for Thee! 
 
 As A WOMAN LOVES MAN 
 
 As a woman loves man, I love Hari Nam, 1 
 
 Without His Divine Presence encompassing me in my 
 
 daily life, without the sight of the light of His 
 
 Silver Feet, without the mists of joy of the 
 
 touch of holiness, at all times of the day and 
 
 1 The name of God. 
 55
 
 56 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 night, heartfelt and unforgot, without that sweet 
 madness for His Name that holds me fast within 
 the air of the Presence of God, I am more miser- 
 able than those who stand in need of bread or 
 clothes or house or bed. 
 
 I need but love of God-like man to raise me from the 
 slough of a wavering faith, 
 
 When out of the sphere of this Divine Attraction my 
 mind is half insane, my frame is in pain as if 
 a million thorns have pricked me through. 
 
 All disease is forgetfulness of my Lord of Love, all 
 distress is in the outer air. 
 
 THE MAN OF GOD 
 
 THE man of God doth live in his own paradise made of 
 
 dreams, 
 And he watches calm changes of the colours of his sky 
 
 and how with those changes change his joy and 
 
 pride and aroma of faith!! 
 His life is a continuous inspiration, 
 At times the stream grows thin like an unspun thread 
 
 of cotton, when spider-like he rolls it in himself 
 
 and flies from all society, 
 At others, the stream surges in all the four directions 
 
 like a shoreless roaring sea, 
 And the man of God comes out to oppose the whole 
 
 world of unfaith and lower-self. 
 His God-inspired almighty sword doth cleave the 
 
 Dark and save the saints and destroy all that 
 
 is false. 
 And yet he is the Child of Man whose own sustenance
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 57 
 
 is but a cup of milk drawn afresh from the 
 Golden Stream of Love that flows toward him 
 from the Lotus Feet of God. 
 
 The man of God feels suffocated if drawn away from 
 this Holy Presence. 
 
 The vision of His Glory redeems his mind from all 
 wandering aims and concentrates it in a little 
 luminous point of His Nam, builds the faith that 
 God is, and grows the man beneath the shades 
 of mists, the primeval dreams of which man is 
 , made. 
 
 His life is Love of God, his life is Nanak-Simran; 
 his is the science of growing love and faith in 
 the life of man, his is the art of the gardener that 
 plants the Man of God in man; 
 
 He sows a poet, a seer, a lover of God, a hero in a 
 common Child of Man. 
 
 He exalts the common life of man to the dignity equal 
 to or more than that of gods. 
 
 For the joy of this life all creation pines and the gods 
 of Heaven do pine. 
 
 OF WHAT USE TO TURN THE BEADS ? 
 
 OF what use to turn the beads in my hands, if my 
 heart, like the earth, turns not around its Sun, 
 in its eternal journey unbroken by a step ? 
 
 Simran is the planetary march of our life round a higher 
 life of Heaven. 
 
 The heart-beats, the breath, the tongue, the pores of 
 skin, the mind, the footfalls, all must repeat
 
 58 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Hail, Master! with a rosary made of the beads 
 of love, of tear-drops for all. 
 
 Not to be a priest with beads but to be a rosary our- 
 selves made of heart-beats, moving as He may 
 move, obedient to His Will; we live as the 
 Children of Song! 
 
 If He give us a number of playmates, we play together; 
 if He take them away, we still look up to Him 
 and pray and sing; 
 
 If He put us with Himself in warm beds in cold dark 
 winter nights, we sleep; if He throw us in a 
 flood we swim, knowing the Great Swimmer is 
 still with us, no waters can dare drown ! 
 
 If He throw us in fire, Welcome! He tests not us but 
 His own gold. 
 
 Be it death or worse, 
 
 We are safe in His Arms with Hail, Master! 
 
 In all tempests with our tiny arms entwined round 
 His Mother-Neck, our tresses flung free in 
 breezes of time, we sleep like babes in His Firm 
 Embrace. 
 
 No fires can burn, no waters drown, no swords can cut, 
 no kings destroy the children of the Master. 
 
 We are the sons of Guru Nanak, Guru Govind Singh. 
 
 True! To turn our beads may be nothing, but to turn 
 our beads may be all. 
 
 EACH SAINT is A GREAT STAR OF SIMRAN LIFE 
 
 EACH Saint is a great star of Simran life, in whom the 
 Master has planted the seed of the Song Divine 
 of the Nam, Hail, Master!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 59 
 
 The Saint, the liberated soul set in the Guru is the 
 centre fixed round which the lesser planets re- 
 volve singing Hail! Hail, Lord and Master! 
 
 The central sun in turn is a spark of Heaven that shines 
 with the light of Nam\ 
 
 Infinite is the Master's Being in whom all glowing 
 stars of Divine life in their own seats burn as 
 flames of eternal love. 
 
 It is as he ordains. 
 
 There is a sky on sky, a heaven on heaven still high 
 and higher, which the Master combines in the 
 soul of man. 
 
 All past is not past, all future is not to come, it is there 
 as one Great Now of the seeing Soul, the Reason 
 Pure that thinks not, but sees clear: God is. 
 
 This Seeing is Simranl 
 
 It is the restoration of man to his natural heavenly 
 life of innocence and its joys and its glory. 
 
 ON THE WHEEL OF SIMRAN 
 
 ON the wheel of Simran, this life or death is one 
 unbroken joy, it is a bliss that gods share 
 with man. 
 
 It is not near nor far; one grain, one mustard seed 
 contains the sun. 
 
 Wonder of wonders! only believe the finite is Infinite!! 
 
 The Man is God. 
 
 Simran is the secret A^m-stream of life that flows from 
 the Master to the disciple, and it is life that 
 begets life ; no thoughts, no ways of meditation, 
 nor Yoga could bid it in us to flow, no penance
 
 60 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 nor renunciation nor ways of giving alms could 
 command it, nor lip-worship nor rites of thousand 
 kinds, nor prayers that arise not from life and 
 heart combined, nor gods of our own making, 
 nor musings of myriad minds could make of us 
 a star of the Simran sky! 
 
 It is the Master who visits us, as He wills, and lifts us 
 up into the planetary society of saints and slowly 
 makes of us a Sikh; 
 
 He hangs us in the Heaven of His Own Self, making 
 us swing with a galaxy of liberated souls revolving 
 round, a sun whom He bids to attract a chosen 
 few! 
 
 The sun is thus appointed to shine, and watch and lift 
 on his shoulders the sons of God! 
 
 This is Guru Nanak's scheme of making this world of 
 man and soul a shining heaven from heart to 
 heart, soul to soul, from home to home, the 
 kingdom of God self-contained, independent in 
 one's own self and yet a whole, one home, one 
 temple sublime of common worship of man and 
 bird and beast. 
 
 Here dumb grazing animals and birds perched on green 
 trees, swinging from bough to bough in divine 
 ecstasy, and leaves of the forest and blades of 
 grass raise a thousand-tuned chorus of the song 
 of the lover of God: Hail, Master! 
 
 THE Guru gathers the man grain by grain, the man 
 who is scattered in the sands of desires* of
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 61 
 
 purposes other than God's, forgetful of his Maker 
 till he makes him whole. 
 
 The Guru-made man discovers naught is his, all things 
 belong to the Master, his heart and head and 
 limbs are not his, nothing is his that he called so 
 long his own, not a hair, not a blade of grass. 
 
 The vast world when thus he doth see in Wah-Guru, 
 when to him Wah-Guru is all, then is the man 
 made alive in himself; 
 
 The common man is God who shares the common lot 
 with man, labours and sweats for his bread, he 
 shears the soil with his plough, and sows and 
 grows his crops that wave in the golden sun; 
 he reaps and gathers grain by grain, does all, 
 but not for himself. 
 
 He does all for Him; no Karma binds the man of 
 Simran, for he is inebriated with joy of Nam, 
 and is but half conscious of his life on earth. 
 
 ALL THE MARCH OF THINGS is DIVINE 
 
 ALL the march of things is divine, be it of star or wind 
 
 or water, or of the tree. 
 
 Miraculous is the movement of bird or beast. 
 A moving animal is God's Sign. 
 How do the moving winds give themselves trees whose 
 
 leaves and boughs vibrate with passion ! 
 All rocks split asunder to let the marching waters 
 
 pass. 
 The bird in flight has a sovereign right over hill and 
 
 dale, it is supreme. 
 Reverence is due to a moving thing.
 
 62 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Simran is the soul of love in earnest march to Heaven; 
 
 long is his journey and far, far off is his home. 
 
 But the Unseen pulls at his heart, the ends of 
 
 the strings that pull are in the hands of the 
 
 Guru, He propels all motion. 
 
 The traveller walks as He bids his steps to move. 
 Great is Guru Nanak's path that runs through action 
 
 and strife, a slender thread of love that entwines 
 
 round the traveller's heart on a march in the 
 
 Infinite. 
 Simran is eternal stir in the soul of things ! 
 
 I DO NOT KNOW WHY 
 
 I DO not know why, but when I say Hail, Master! the 
 sun and stars seem to run in my breath, my 
 muscles are as if fibres of light, my being wings 
 that mingle with lands and waters, my lips 
 touch gardens of flowers, my hands I exchange 
 with some other hands, a stranger moves my 
 tongue. The universe runs into me and I into 
 the universe. 
 
 I seem a strange misty Form. Like vapour, I pass into 
 the being of others, and they passing within me 
 become my guests. 
 
 It seems fair forms of beauty roll as waves on the sea 
 Hail, Lord! all are each other's!! 
 
 Our shape and limbs run into each other. 
 
 I find my bones at times strike within me against the 
 bones of some one else. 
 
 Our deeds and thoughts jostle and run into each other. 
 
 I see a hundred souls blend in me and I interchange
 
 63 
 
 my blood and brain thus with a hundred more 
 in a single breath, and calm in solitude, I find 
 a society. 
 
 I MET A WOMAN ONCE 
 
 I MET a woman once who was as fresh as a bush of 
 roses full blown, her eyes like lotus were swim- 
 ming in the azure of the world-water. 
 
 Her step was light, like the morning zephyr, and she 
 was beautiful! god-like was her form. 
 
 I looked at her with tender eyes when I was melting 
 in love of Him who made her so fair!! 
 
 I almost lost the maker in the make. 
 
 Her eyes ran into mine, her lips I felt vibrating on my 
 lips in one music of Nam. 
 
 I vaguely" saw her soul in me, and mine in her, for I had 
 changed my sex. 
 
 It took me hours to forget her; I am not given to look 
 at things so tenderly. 
 
 THE PERSONS OF MEN 
 
 THE persons of men evoke worship in me so strong that 
 I am flooded with love of gifts and things, for- 
 getful of the Giver, of Him who made me fit to 
 worship men and things, of Him who taught me, 
 Love is God's gift and great ! 
 
 How strange ! in men and things I forget Him who told 
 me: 
 
 " Worship Love wherever it may be, in mother's heart 
 or in the babe, in the heart of a young man or 
 of a maid, let thy sense supreme tell where Love
 
 64 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 may be, love it, be glad and sing in thyself, 
 
 ' Love is great! ' 
 It is life and more; it is the image of God, it is the 
 
 bread of souls, it is the raiment of man. 
 He is naked; without Love, full of shame and pain." 
 Ah! If men and things were never too much with me! 
 Ah! If I could but draw the line round myself and 
 
 live in its charmed circle, in eternal communion 
 
 with my Beloved, only look at men and things 
 
 from this charmed centre ! 
 Ah! only look at men and things! 
 
 IN a thousand sacred rivers I have plunged for a bath 
 
 that washes off, they say, the sins of men ; 
 But the fever of desire consumes me still, my pilgrimage 
 
 availeth not. 
 When the Shower of Thy Glance falls on me, even to 
 
 myself I am a sacred man. I feel laved. My 
 
 heart is cleaned, my mind is cleared of thoughts ; 
 And my soul mounts high in regions of sinlessness, and 
 
 cool streams flow through every channel of my 
 
 thought-scorched frame. 
 A Spray of the Light of Thy Glance extinguishes the 
 
 fiery volcanoes of the fevers of illusion, their 
 
 mouths are filled with snow, their very soul 
 
 freezes in cold ecstasy. 
 The fish is free in the river, the river in the sea, the sea 
 
 is free in its expanse, 
 The Yogi feels freedom in Nirvana, 
 My bondage breaks when I bathe in Thy Glance,
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 65 
 
 Enrobed in holy sunshine of Thy Amrit, and adorned 
 with the light of sinlessness of Thy Blessed Love, 
 new born from Heaven's bath, my bondage 
 breaks when I catch a glimpse of Thy Lotus Feet. 
 
 How Thy Grace filleth me ! ! 
 
 TOUCH MY HEART! 
 
 TOUCH me! Touch my heart with Thy Lotus Feet! 
 that I may dream, in world-distress and dust, 
 Thou art by me!! 
 
 Throw me not on myself ! ! 
 
 I forget Thy sky is above me; I forget it is Thy air I 
 breathe, Thy waters I drink, Thy stars I see, 
 Thy gardens I walk, Thy fruits I eat, Thy 
 singing rivers I hear as they roll, Thy men I 
 love ! I forget that Thou art ! 
 
 Lord! Throw me not on myself; at every step I forget 
 Thee. 
 
 Too much for me is this world-madness! 
 
 Keep swooping down on my heart from Thy Heaven- 
 flights ! 
 
 Ah! I may know from moment to moment Thou art 
 everywhere and Thou art my Life and Joy and 
 Pride and Strength, and motion of all moving 
 things. 
 
 Pray, give me signs from Heaven that I may look and 
 wonder and say Hail, my Lord! 
 
 Let down the Love-strings that they may pull me up 
 with Thy Wheel of Change. 
 
 Lift me slowly, lift me up ! Let me melt in Thy Glory 
 that makes Earth and Heaven but one.
 
 66 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Touch me! Touch my eyes with Thy Lotus Feet and 
 
 cool my heart, my burning eyes and frame; 
 
 and let me rest at peace in Thy Tree-shadows. 
 I need deep sleep to give me peace from the scorching 
 
 sun of the world. 
 Ah! Let me dream, and see naught but Thee in all and 
 
 everything. 
 
 THE NEST IN THE GRASS-BLADES 
 
 DARK is the sky with all its stars and dark are both 
 
 the Day and Night. 
 Dark is my heart ! 
 The rise of a hundred Moons would not light my path, 
 
 the glow of a thousand Suns would not send a 
 
 single ray within my heart. 
 I wait for but one ray which He might bid to strike 
 
 the windows of my closed soul! 
 He looks at me and my heart is enlightened; 
 The thin covering of the grass-blades is enough for the 
 
 Nest of my Heart, I gather within it His Light 
 
 and, all-content, I glow within, as the tempest 
 
 of winds swings my nest in Endless Night and 
 
 the Black outside! 
 
 WHEN ALL THE DOORS ARE CLOSED 
 
 WHEN all the doors are closed against me, 
 When my own eyes and ears are closed; no joy on 
 earth, no light in my heart; when all friends are 
 as strangers, and dust and dirt darken my 
 vision, I no more see Thy Stars.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 67 
 
 When I am so self-spent and dead, that I do not even 
 feel that I am in distress, or dying, or dead, 
 
 When I have no more even thirst or hunger, that old 
 sweet longing that swelled the veins of my bosom 
 till they throbbed with desire of Thee, 
 
 When the river of my soul is swallowed up in the sands 
 of sense, when my pleasures have killed all the 
 grace in me, and buried me in shame, 
 
 When my deeds condemn me to the death of forget- 
 fulness of Thee, 
 
 My Lord! Even then Thy Mercy shall bless, Thy door 
 will be open for me ! 
 
 My Lord! I hope Thou wilt draw a veil over me and 
 cover me in Thy Forgiveness from all shame, 
 and bathe me, ah! even me, with Thy Own 
 Hands, and enrobe me with youth and life again 
 and I shall again hear the music of Heaven ! 
 
 In vain I loved aught else! 
 
 Killing and slaying one another, we hardly knew we 
 lived. 
 
 Daily I drank the gall of pleasures, and daily drifted 
 far from Thee ! 
 
 I forgot Thy Omnipresence; I forgot Thy Grace Omni- 
 potent that gave my very life to me. 
 
 I revelled in joys of sense and self, forgetting Thee ! 
 
 I forgot the strength for sins of love was drawn from 
 Thy blood. 
 
 How I carried on a traffic, trying not to know Thou 
 art! 
 
 I daily lost myself, I daily wept as long as I had life 
 left to shed even too late a tear. 
 
 But reckless forgetfulness made me helpless, the dust
 
 68 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 of daily Karmas piled on me, disease and death 
 
 closed on me ! 
 I drifted further and further away from Thee, but I 
 
 saw still the Covenant signed by Thee on my 
 
 brows and my last hope has been Thy Covenant 
 
 which stands as my sky; sins are but clouds of 
 
 dust in this Heaven! 
 I saw Thy signature arrow-writ on my breast, I found 
 
 this my last hope in my absolute ruin: Thy 
 
 angels stood by me in my utter dissolution. 
 Such is Thy Love and Compassion that reckons not, 
 
 nor weighs, nor sits in judgment, but like a 
 
 mother forgives ! ! 
 
 In infinite sunshine Thy children play. 
 Thy waters roll for them, Thy winds blow for them, 
 
 Thy starry sky is arched for them. 
 Not a ray of light is refused, nor a grain of wheat denied. 
 Thy blessings fall as ever. 
 Thou art the True and Steadfast Love, that gives and 
 
 forgives and knows not the deeds of men! 
 
 I AM THE GARDENER'S DAUGHTER 
 
 I AM the gardener's daughter! 
 
 My basket of sky is filled with the morning flowers, 
 And wrapped in the basket is the Lotus of the Sun! 
 I carry the basket of flowers on my head and I pass 
 
 through the market ! 
 
 The buyers bid for it amongst themselves 
 And many a youth cried to have it! 
 " It is not for sale," I said, and passed on.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 69 
 
 The King of my country stopped me! 
 
 The King it was, who desired it! 
 
 " Let the price be fixed for it by the flower-seller," he 
 
 said. 
 
 " O Sire, not this basket! It is not for sale! " 
 I said; and wanted to pass on. 
 But I was stopped ! The citizens shouted : 
 " O foolish Flower of a gardener! Knowest thou not 
 
 it is the King who wants the basket of flowers ? 
 And I turned to him and said: 
 " Sire! I am a poor gardener's daughter! 
 I am thy servant and thy humble slave. 
 Thou art the King, our Protector. 
 But this is not thy basket ! 
 
 This is for the King of the Kingdom of Heaven! 
 This is to be laid at His Feet ! 
 Let the oblation of joy and love go free! 
 Great art thou, O King! Have grace upon a poor 
 
 gardener's daughter! " 
 The King smiled, and gave the sign. The crowds made 
 
 way for me! 
 
 My steps hardly touched the ground, 
 I was like one flying with my basket of flowers! 
 My steps were weaving joy on the ground, as with the 
 
 King's grace I passed on! 
 
 ii 
 
 I am the gardener's daughter! 
 
 My basket of sky is filled with the morning flowers, 
 And wrapped in the basket is the Lotus of the Sun. 
 I carry the basket of flowers on my head and I pass 
 through the city lanes !
 
 7 o SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 " Tarry, O Gardener's daughter! Tarry! 
 
 I bring you a handful of wheat ! Pray give me a wreath 
 
 of flowers ! " said a new-wedded bride and held 
 
 out her arms covered with crimson-lacquered, 
 
 ivory bangles up to the elbows! 
 "No, new Bride! No! these flowers are not for sale," 
 
 said I, and passed on. 
 
 "What a proud poor gardener's daughter! " said she. 
 The lanes were filled with people; dames and damsels 
 
 were out of doors ! 
 Some had their tresses flying, some but half-combed, 
 
 some had their saris only half wrapped around, 
 
 they came out in confusion of joy! 
 "Flowers! Flowers! we want flowers," a shout rose 
 
 in the streets! 
 " Not for sale! not for sale! " said I hurriedly, and 
 
 passed on! 
 " O sisters! we never met such a proud poor gardener's 
 
 daughter! " 
 
 m 
 
 I am the gardener's daughter! 
 
 My basket of sky is filled with the morning flowers, 
 
 And wrapped in them is the Lotus of the Sun! 
 
 I carry the basket on my head and I pass on out of the 
 
 city lanes. 
 
 A young man caught hold of me! 
 
 " Be mine, O Gardener's daughter! Be mine," said he. 
 " I will not let thee go! 
 See, I am young and fair, I wish to live for thee! Be 
 
 mine, to-day, be mine! 
 Look! I am wholly thine!! "
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 71 
 
 " Ah, no, no! I cannot be thine!! 
 
 I am His who made me! 
 
 Leave the way clear! " 
 
 " Be mine! O Gardener's daughter! be mine! 
 
 He made you for me, and me for you ! 
 
 We will be each other's; you shall be mine and I am 
 
 yours for ever! 
 
 Come! live indeed, not in dream." 
 "Ah, no! I was not made for you, nor you for me; 
 
 nor were we made to live for each other! 
 I cannot be thine! 
 I am His who made me. 
 Life belongs to Him who gives life to us, 
 Neither can mine be yours, nor yours mine! 
 Let us give it back to Him whose it is ! 
 Stand aside, O, stand aside! 
 Stay me no more, it is getting late!! " 
 "Then say, O Gardener's daughter! How can I live 
 
 without thy love ? 
 How can I live without thee ? 
 Thou art my God! 
 O Gardener's daughter! I kneel down before thee and 
 
 pray to thee under the blue sunny sky! Be 
 
 mine! be mine in this very shape! My God! " 
 "xA.li, no, no! I am His who made me! 
 Unless He gives me to thee, I cannot be thine ! 
 Now let me pass! pray! it is getting late! 
 You have wasted many moments of my precious day ! 
 My flowers are not for sale, good Sir! This is not for 
 
 sale!" I said shaking my head and passed on!
 
 72 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 IV 
 
 I am the gardener's daughter! 
 
 My basket of sky is filled with the morning flowers, 
 And wrapped in the basket is the Lotus of the Sun ! 
 I carry the basket of flowers on my head and I pass by 
 
 the outstretched arms of men! 
 Eternal is my basket of sky! 
 Ever fresh my morning-flowers ! 
 These are the offerings of a poor gardener's daughter, 
 
 the simple earth flowers placed by my little 
 
 hands in my basket of sky! 
 And I lay them daily at His Feet! 
 He daily accepts the offerings of a poor gardener's 
 
 daughter ! 
 My kind, kind King of Heaven! 
 
 I am the gardener's daughter! 
 
 My basket of sky is filled with the morning flowers! 
 
 And wrapped in the basket is the Lotus of the Sun! 
 
 And I carry the basket of flowers on my head. 
 
 And I daily pass through the mart, the throng, the 
 
 lanes, the staying hands ! 
 
 Every day I lay my basket of flowers at His Feet! 
 Every day He takes the humble offerings, the offerings 
 
 of a poor daughter of a gardener! 
 Every day He says " My daughter! " 
 And every day I say " My Father! "
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 73 
 
 AN OFFERING 
 
 WHAT can I offer Thee ? 
 
 I have nothing! 
 
 I have been to the loneliest flower in the desert, 
 
 And the flower said to me: " Pluck me not, I am the 
 
 flower of the Temple." 
 I have been to the snow-covered rocks that held the 
 
 most glowing rubies ! 
 As I touched them, the rubies oped their lips and said : 
 
 " We are of the Treasury of the Temple." 
 Whenever and whatever I touch to make it mine, even 
 
 for an offering, j 
 
 An ancient voice replies: " All is God's." 
 All things are Thine! 
 All is in Thy Temple ! 
 All Thy people are going to Thy Temple! each one has 
 
 an offering for Thee! 
 The rich lady has a purse of gold and the poor a handful 
 
 of maize or wheat! 
 The young girls have their white muslin-shawls full of 
 
 roses and jasmine and narcissus! 
 And the young men have the reverent joy of their 
 
 hearts enclosed in the lotus-wreaths they have 
 
 in their hands! 
 
 The young and the old all gather in Thy Temple! 
 The white beards with the black side by side ! 
 The chastened thoughtful flesh, and the young flesh 
 
 full of a hundred new meanings, side by side in 
 
 Thy Temple! 
 The throngs of pilgrims! The smiles and tears mingle 
 
 in Thy Temple!
 
 74 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 The worshipping crowds in the gaiety of their life and 
 in their thousand-tinted dresses, like the flowers 
 in their hands, are themselves an offering! 
 
 What can I bring Thee as an offering ? 
 
 I have nothing! 
 
 In every limb, in every part of myself, I found Thy 
 Divine seal from old Eternity. 
 
 It were a shame to make an offering of myself before 
 Thy creation, where everything, from the lowest 
 clod of clay to the loftiest star, names Thee. 
 
 What can I bring Thee as an offering! I have nothing! 
 
 To offer Thy slave for service, unless thou callest him 
 to it, what would it mean but an excess of the 
 " blood of ignorance " ? 
 
 For I am one without worth. 
 
 To offer myself, without Thy calling me, what would 
 it be but folly ? 
 
 Ah! I know, how at times Thou didst call me and how 
 I failed even to understand Thy orders ! 
 
 Whatever I dared to do, I did it wrong. 
 
 There lie a thousand vessels that Thou didst give me 
 to carry and I dropped them into pieces! 
 
 Ashamed of myself, I put my finger under my teeth, 
 and stand with my head cast down before Thy 
 creation, like an utter fool. 
 
 It is right, Thou shalt call me no more to any service! 
 
 Full of shame, I now live far, far away from Thy palace- 
 door in one of Thy out-houses, in my poverty 
 and nakedness. 
 
 At last! 
 
 A lonely bed, an old man, two blind eyes; absolute 
 nothing!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 75 
 
 The sun rises for the blind man under his little low roof, 
 
 Thou standest by my bed-side! 
 
 I find Thee bending over Thy so unserviceable a slave! 
 
 I find a tear from Thy eyes falling on my naked breast. 
 
 I find Thou hast come! . 
 
 My Lord! my eyes are blind, they see not, my back- 
 bone is weak, I can rise no more from my bed, 
 
 I am Thy servant lying in one of Thy out-houses ! 
 
 My Lord! An old, unserviceable servant of Thine! 
 
 My Lord ! I have nothing to offer Thee ! 
 
 Only a pair of blind, old, shivering hands groping in 
 the dark for Thee!
 
 READINGS FROM " GURU GRANTH
 
 READINGS FROM " GURU GRANTH " 
 
 JAPJI 
 
 (MAHLA I., Guru Nanak) 
 
 I 
 
 HE is One. He is the First. He is all that is. 
 
 His name is Truth. 
 
 He is the Creator of all. 
 
 Fearing naught, striking fear in naught; His Form, 
 
 on lands and waters, is Eternity; the One 
 
 Self-existent. 
 Through the Grace of His true servant, continually 
 
 repeat His Name. 
 
 II 
 
 He was in the beginning; He is through all ages, he 
 shall be the One who lives for ever. 
 
 Beyond thought, no thinking can conceive Him, not 
 even if the minds of men should think for ages 
 and ages. 
 
 Nor silence can see Him, even if the minds of men 
 meditate on Him for ages and ages. 
 
 Nor can He be known by gaining the worlds ; for man's 
 desire is never satiated, even though all the 
 worlds laden with gold fall to his share. 
 
 No human thoughts can carry man far. 
 
 79
 
 8o SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 The movements of his mind, the thousand acts of 
 wisdom of the world, leave him dark; nothing 
 avails. 
 
 Vain are the ways of men. 
 
 How then to find Him ? 
 
 How then to get rid of the dark pall ? 
 
 One way there is, to make His Will our own. No other 
 way, naught else. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Great is His Will!! 
 
 All manifest things are forms of His Will. 
 
 His Will is indefinable ! 
 
 Of His Will is made all sentient life; 
 
 It is His Will that some are great, some are small. 
 
 All existence is bound by His Supreme Will. 
 
 Nothing is outside the sphere of His Will; such is Truth! 
 
 Seek His Will, this is to live. 
 
 If one sees the Universal Will at work, then one can 
 
 never say " 'Tis I." 
 The bards have chanted hymns in praise of Him, His 
 
 Power and His Great Gifts, and sung His Signs. 
 
 IV 
 
 He who builds and unbuilds the Universe, in whom 
 All Being is, coming forth from Him, and 
 returning back to Him, seems so far, yet so 
 near; Omnipresent, Omniscient, Him have ages 
 adored ! 
 
 Countless millions have sung of Him, yet he still remains, 
 unknown and unsung!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 81 
 
 For ages and ages, have men sat at His Feet, for ages 
 and ages they ate from His Hands, for ages and 
 ages they have drunk of His Inspiration, and 
 in such abundance that the vessels could never 
 be enough to hold it all. 
 
 They are powerless to receive what He gives ! 
 
 By Him are ordained many paths of life; men and 
 things go whither He wills them to go. 
 
 And everywhere the Creator smiles in His Glory, in 
 Eternal Repose Undaunted, Undisturbed, the 
 Infinite, the whole creation's Lord! 
 
 His Nam is the Substance of which all life is made. His 
 Nam enlarges the heart and makes it limitless. 
 
 His creatures beg their daily needs from Him, He gives 
 all things to men. 
 
 Naught is our own; all is His that we possess, this life 
 and all is His ! 
 
 With what offerings, could we enter His Temple ? 
 
 With what virtue, His Presence ? 
 
 What words have we on our lips to win His Delight ? 
 
 V 
 
 Meditate on His Nam at Morn, wet with the ambrosia 
 
 of the day-break! 
 
 Our doings make this vesture of our body, 
 The Heaven shall cover our shame with honour, and 
 
 by the light of His Glance we shall go free. 
 The Dawn of Divine Knowledge cometh from within, 
 
 and man sees God as the Light Revealing. 
 High above all things is the Revealed Infinite, in Himself 
 
 Self-resplendent, Glorious !
 
 82 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Great are they and honoured of Heaven who serve His 
 Will, He is the Treasure-House of all Goodness 
 and Beauty. 
 
 VI 
 
 Sing, ye men, His Greatness! 
 
 Be wise in Him; believe in Him! 
 
 Fill your hearts with His Love and His Greatness, 
 
 Thus ye shall go free of pain and illusion, 
 
 Thus ye shall be released, gaining the joy of Freedom 
 in Him, who is All-Beatitude ! 
 
 It is the Master who can implant the seed of Faith in 
 man, the Master is the inspirer of Hari Nam. 
 
 This divine illumination, he achieves in man. 
 
 Through His Good Will and Love, one sees the presence 
 of God in all things and everywhere. 
 
 It is the Master's gift, this life of holy inspiration and 
 love of Nam, 
 
 All gods are contained in the Master: Shiva, Fishnoo, 
 Brahma, and the goddesses Parvati, Lakshmi 
 and Sarasvati, and the Vedas are in Him and 
 all song: He is the music of the Infinite! 
 
 The All-Sustainer of souls, the All-Nourisher is But One! 
 
 Thus has the Master proclaimed. 
 
 Understand but one fact of all facts. Forget Him not! 
 
 In thy own mind is all, thou hast in it the gems and 
 jewels of thought and virtue of all power, good- 
 ness and beauty, 
 
 But at the feet of the Master, learn one lesson: 
 Forget not thy Maker, the All-Giver, All- 
 Sustainer, the Creator! 
 
 (This is Simranl This is repetition of Ndml)
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 83 
 
 VII 
 
 If ye do His Will, it is enough Tiratb l for ye to bathe 
 in holiness and joy, 
 
 If ye do not His Will, naught else availeth! 
 
 If a man live yugas four, or tens of yugas 2 more, have 
 fame spreading all over the nine continents and 
 all men to follow him, giving him the praise and 
 renown of the world, 
 
 Let him be as rich and as great as this, yet without 
 the light of His Glance beaming on him, he is 
 unseen, he is counted but a worm amongst 
 worms; he shall envy even the fate of sinners! 
 
 But wondrous are the ways of the Maker, He makes 
 the disabled able, the able abler. 
 
 Great is His All-bestowing Mercy ! 
 
 He adds unto all out of His Own Stores, no second 
 such as can add unto Him. 
 
 (He is the Infinite Supreme, above all!) 
 
 VIII 
 
 By Thee informed, O Lord, standeth the earth, 
 
 The stars hang in space and sky is above, 
 
 Inspired by Thee are the lower regions, the continents 
 
 of men, the adepts, guides and gods. 
 They die not who are thus informed. 
 Distress and sin to death and dust return. 
 Thou informest all gods, angels and heavens. 
 The light of Thy inspiration makes the beggar noble, 
 
 his raiment worthy of all praise. 
 
 1 Holy rivers and places of pilgrimage. 
 * Yuga is a cycle of ages.
 
 84 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Inspiration reveals the secrets of life and self; and one 
 
 knoweth all, knowing Thee. 
 Information of Thee contains All-peace, All-truth, 
 
 All-knowledge; all learning is noble thereby, 
 The mind of man itself concentrates in Self, attained 
 
 is the Unattainable, the Unknowable is known, 
 
 the blind finds out his path, secure from sin 
 
 and sorrow. 
 Thus bathed in the bliss of holiness, Thy saints are for 
 
 ever as full-blown blossoms of Peace. 
 
 IX 
 
 What words can tell the state of those who live in faith 
 
 and trust, who make His Will their own? 
 The Soul mounts high, Reason and mind grow clear; 
 
 Fates wait with bated breaths, 
 They are freed of pain of flesh, of the dreadful grasp 
 
 of Tamo's Noose, and lost in Self, straight is 
 
 the path of life for them. 
 Great is His Nam. 
 The path of faith, nothing can bar nor mar nor change; 
 
 they speed to Higher Regions beyond Death and 
 
 decay, unhindered on, and gain the Seats of 
 
 Honour hereafter. 
 The journey over, the men of faith have reached the 
 
 goal ! ! 
 
 Saved are they and their kith and kin. 
 Their life gains its freedom of the Infinite. 
 No more, desire-pulled, it wanders a-begging. 
 They know Thy Will as their own; together both the 
 
 Guru and the Disciples are saved!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 85 
 
 All Glorious is His Naml 
 
 The door of life opens up to those who have forgone 
 
 themselves in faith and love. 
 Men whom He appoints and to whom He gives authority 
 
 are the true teachers of men, they guide and 
 
 lay for man the path. 
 
 They are honoured of the kingdom of God. 
 They are the stars that make this earth a shining spot. 
 The chosen of God live in the Guru. 
 Their one fixed Dhyan l is His Person. 
 (Their breath is His Breath, their life is His Life. Their 
 
 mind wanders not, nor their heart strays from 
 
 the sphere of the Love of the Master!!) 
 
 X 
 
 The works of the Architect of this Universe are above 
 
 all reckoning ; they speak foolishly who say they 
 
 can conceive God. 
 
 They say this earth is borne on the horns of the Bull. 
 But there is earth beyond earth, planets on planets 
 
 beyond, heavy indeed is the load on the horns 
 
 of the Bull! 
 It is not the Bull, it is Dkarmd, sprung from Love, 
 
 who bears the weight of the worlds. 
 
 XI 
 
 Ah! who can count the countless forms of life with 
 which teems this world below and above, their 
 names or species or hues ? 
 
 1 Meditation. Subject of meditation.
 
 86 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 They are the letters writ by His Flowing Pen; who 
 
 now can write, count or reckon that which the 
 
 Maker has made ? 
 
 How fair are forms made by the Creator! 
 How Mighty Thou ! O Lord! 
 How enchantingly sweet is Thy emanation! 
 How great is the kingdom of Nature that Thou hast 
 
 given to Man ! 
 
 Thou didst create all this but by one word. 
 From one word of Thy Lips is made this thousand- 
 
 rivered Nature! 
 
 How shall I praise Thy Miracle of Nature ? 
 I am filled with the sweetness of its beauty! 
 At its altar, I fain would lay myself as a sacrifice, but 
 
 too poor am I to gain my heart's desire, ah! 
 
 even but once!! 
 
 Thy Will, O Beautiful! is good. 
 Thy Pleasure is all ! 
 
 XII 
 
 Formless One! Thou art for ever! How various Thy 
 
 mankind!! 
 
 Myriads of men in myriad ways of life! 
 Some name Thee and some are in pious penance engaged, 
 Myriads recite from memory the Holy Books, 
 And myriads are lost in deep T ogd-Smadhi l with their 
 
 hearts full of sadness for the evanescence of the 
 
 Maya, they are those who have grown indifferent 
 
 to the world. 
 Myriads more are Thy devotees who meditate on Thy 
 
 Knowledge and Beauty. 
 
 1 Trance of Union.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 87 
 
 Myriads have taken the vow of Right. 
 
 Generous myriads who take delight in giving themselves 
 and theirs away! 
 
 Myriads are the mighty Heroes Brave who bear the 
 brunt of steel in war with joy, 
 
 Myriads are vowed to Silence with their mind fixed on 
 the Eternal! 
 
 And myriads there are who are fools, blind mind and 
 heart, thieves and those that live on plunder. 
 
 Myriads, such as bind their fellow-men by their might, 
 
 Myriads, such as live the life of sin, and spread false- 
 hood, lies and scandals. 
 
 XIII 
 
 O Infinite, how can I come to know Thy Nature ? 
 Intoxicated with its Beauty, I fain would lay myself 
 
 at its altar as a sacrifice, but too poor to do my 
 
 heart's desire, ah! even but once! 
 Thy Will, O Beautiful, is good! 
 Thy Pleasure is all ! 
 O Formless One! Thou art for ever! 
 
 XIV 
 
 Beyond the reach of our senses and thought, 
 
 Myriads are Thy world-systems, myriad the spheres, 
 
 and various are the descriptions that the mighty 
 
 thinkers give of them. 
 This world is Thy writing! 
 This manifested emanation, these objects are the 
 
 Alphabets of Thy Word,
 
 88 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Through these letters we name Thee, by their aid we 
 praise Thee, by them is all our knowledge of 
 Thee, with their aid we sing of Thy Beauty. 
 
 Magic are these letters, we % write and speak. 
 
 These letters are forms of human destiny writ on every 
 man's forehead! 
 
 The Forehead of Him who wrote all this is without 
 these lines of form and shape and Fates. 
 
 He is free, He can never be writ ! ! 
 
 As He ordaineth so His creatures are! 
 
 Great is His Make and great is His Glory! 
 
 There is no place where His Glory is not, 
 
 Thy Will, O Beautiful! is good! 
 
 Thy Pleasure is all! 
 
 O Formless One! Thou art for ever. 
 
 XV 
 
 The hands and feet and skin when mud-besmeared are 
 
 washed free of dirt by water, our vestures when 
 
 soiled are cleaned by washing; 
 But when the dirt of sins makes dark our mind, naught 
 
 else but Thy Nam can restore to it its fair 
 
 transparency, 
 It needs be washed with the love of Thy Nam, Lord! 
 
 XVI 
 
 The man reaps as he sows. 
 
 It is His Will, men come and go on the Wheel of Birth 
 and Death.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 89 
 
 Small indeed is the honour won outside of Self by making 
 pilgrimage and penance, or being kind and giving 
 charity to others, if one has not been within 
 himself and bathed in the Ambrosial River 
 within, if one has not felt Holy Inspiration within, 
 if the seed of faith is not put in the soil of 
 the heart, if love has yet not sprung! 
 
 XVII 
 
 All kinds of Beauty are Thine, O Lord! 
 
 No beauty whatever I have, how can I aspire to love 
 Thee if Thou makest me not beautiful of heart 
 and wakest me not to see Thy Beauty every- 
 where ! 
 
 O Self-Existent, Eternal, Beauty! 
 
 From Thee has emanated the Holy Nam-lite ! 
 
 What is the name of the Day and what was the time, 
 
 what season and what month was it, w r hen Thou 
 
 first made the world ? 
 The Pundits know naught of the dawn of Thy Creation 
 
 to record it in the Porands, 1 
 Nor have the Qazis 2 seen that time to put it down in 
 
 the Quran,* 
 Nor do the Yogis know of that season, hour, date nor 
 
 the day. 
 
 1 Sacred books of the Hindus. 
 
 * Mohammedan Scribes. 3 The Koran.
 
 9 o SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 XVIII 
 
 That Beautiful Hour when He made this world He 
 
 Himself alone doth know, 
 Beyond our speech, our praise, our description and 
 
 knowledge is the Beautiful Maker! 
 Still they speak of Him, each and all according to their 
 
 mite, as one is wiser than another. 
 
 XIX 
 
 He is the Great and the Infinite One; and great is His 
 
 Nam, 
 
 What He wills cometh to pass. 
 He knows whatever is. 
 If any one else says he knows Him, he is but a foci in 
 
 the eyes of the dwellers of higher regions. 
 There are skies above skies and earths below earths 
 
 and man's mind is tired of this great search, 
 It cannot reach the end of His Vastness. 
 All knowledge of man and his thousand books proclaim 
 
 but One Truth, that there is but One Substance 
 
 of which all this is made. 
 
 There is but One Metal in all. None else! None else! 
 How can the Infinite be reduced to the Finite? all 
 
 attempts to describe Him are lost. 
 The Infinite knows the Infinite. 
 
 XX 
 
 Ours is to lose ourselves in worship and adoration, nor 
 need we ask, Why ?
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 91 
 
 No need to fathom the Unfathomable: As the rivers 
 flow to the sea with their song, let us flow on 
 to the Infinite, not knowing how wide is the 
 ocean's flood, 
 
 Like an ocean is the Lord Almighty. 
 
 If one has wealth-heaps as high as pyramids, 
 
 Let him be ever so rich, yet is he less than the little 
 ant, the ant that forgets not its Maker. 
 
 (The small man that enshrines the Sultan within is 
 all-great.) 
 
 No end to Thee, O Infinite! nay, those who worship 
 
 and love Thee have no end; 
 
 No end to Thy Forgiveness, endless are Thy Gifts. 
 Thy Vision and Inspiration are infinite and endless 
 
 is Thy Purpose ! ! 
 
 XXI 
 
 Endless is Thy Creation, we see neither Thy Near 
 
 nor Thy Far, Thou hast neither this, nor that, 
 
 shore. 
 For touching either end of Thine, serious minds almost 
 
 cry with pain, 
 Thy secret is the pang of their souls, but they cannot 
 
 touch Thy limits at any point. 
 The more we say, the more it grows; for us the more 
 
 we know, the more is our ignorance! 
 Exalted is the Owner of the spheres ! 
 Higher than our senses is His abode; 
 One must gain those heights before one catches a 
 
 glimpse.
 
 92 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 It is He whose glance can lift us up, to see Him. 
 His glance is a gift of Heaven. 
 
 Abundant is His Mercy, as great as Himself. 
 
 He giveth and giveth, taketh not even a mustard seed 
 
 from aught else. 
 The great warriors beg their might from Him and 
 
 numberless wrecks of sin wait at His Door. 
 There are others who receive His Plenty and eating 
 
 His Bread deny Him; fools think not on his 
 
 mysteries. 
 
 XXII 
 
 In Thy courtyard die thousands of hunger and of the 
 
 ills of flesh. 
 O Almighty Giver! This too is Thy Mercy, this too is 
 
 Thy Love. 
 
 By Thy Will the chains of the prisoners drop. 
 The bound are freed and the free are bound, who else 
 
 could divine Thy Purpose, who else could say 
 
 aught ? 
 If any dare go against Thy Will, he will know for 
 
 himself how painful to him is his pride. 
 
 He knows us all better than we know ourselves. 
 
 He gives what is best for us; few are those who believe 
 
 and bow to this truth. 
 Those on whom He bestows His song are greater than 
 
 kings, those who have worship in their hearts 
 
 are nobler by far than the great ones of this 
 
 earth. 
 The poet's heart is rich!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 93 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Priceless and precious, Oh Lord, Thy Beauty ! 
 
 How Thy Worth reposes on its infinite glory, in price 
 
 and in value one and the same ! 
 Pricelessly precious are the wares of Nam, 
 Thou art the Eternal Merchant ! 
 Thy stores are infinite, too precious to be priced ! 
 Precious beyond measure is what Thou givest and what 
 
 Thou takest away, the exchange is pricelessly 
 
 precious. 
 The rate at which Thou dealest in love is of limitless 
 
 worth, and how infinitely sweet the hour Thou 
 
 bestowest love! 
 Thy delicate balance is priceless, Thy weights and 
 
 weighings ! 
 
 How common and how precious are Thy Signs ! 
 Pricelessly precious is the word from Thy Lips, 
 Pricelessly precious is Thy Forgiveness ! 
 How common and how precious art Thou ! 
 Too common to be felt as preciousness itself, there is 
 
 no other value; all descriptions stutter and are 
 
 lost in a silence which wonders and fixes its gaze 
 
 on Thee for ever. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Though the Vedas speak of Him, and the Poranas, 
 
 Though the learned discourse on Him, and Indra and 
 
 Brahmas expound His law, Krishna and His 
 
 Gopfs speak of Him, Shiva and the adepts tell 
 
 about God and all the Buddhas proclaim Him,
 
 94 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Though millions have spoken thus; though millions 
 came and sat and left their seats and have gone, 
 
 And if there come as many more creations, and all 
 speak of Him, yet He shall forever remain The 
 Undescribed ! 
 
 And Thou, O Lord, art more than our minds can 
 
 comprehend. 
 
 Thou art as Great as Thou canst be! 
 Thou art the Verity, Thou art the One Reality; 
 Thou alone knowest Thyself. 
 
 XXV 
 
 Where art Thou, O Lord? where is Thy Door? where 
 is Thy Tower-House from where Thou carest 
 for all, on whose walls breaks the music of the 
 Universe in its Endless Song ? 
 
 How many are the instruments ! 
 
 How countless are the tunes and chants of this World- 
 Music ! 
 
 How countless are the voices that sing, countless are 
 their undulations ! 
 
 O Lord! the winds and waters and fires sing thee; 
 the King of Right and Wrong and his angels; 
 
 Ishwara and Brahma and the goddesses Thou hast 
 clothed with Thy Beauty, sing Thee ; 
 
 Ind.ro, the owner of the three worlds with His Court of 
 gods, sings the same chorus! 
 
 The silence of the Adepts and Saints sings ! 
 
 The Heroes of self-control, of patience, of celibacy, of 
 learning, are a Song of Thee !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 95 
 
 The Seers pass with prophecy along the ages, singing; 
 and the Goddesses, that invest the air, the sky 
 and earth, with music of their limbs and eyes, 
 their robes and gems, their life and joy, are a 
 Song. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 The Holy Lands and Rivers roll in music, the crystal- 
 jewels of men roll in Thy Song. 
 
 The mighty and all-heroic are made of Song. 
 
 Thy Kingdoms Four sing Thee! 
 
 And Thy vast solar systems, Thy planets and their 
 satellites, whom Thou art holding in Thy Hands, 
 raise the music of Thy praise! 
 
 Only those whom Thou admittest, can enter into this 
 Song, 
 
 Thy poets, divinely led, whose souls are dyed with the 
 red dye of Thy Lips, are in Thy Song Eternal! 
 
 There is music in music, aye! music beyond music. 
 Transcendental is Thy Song! 
 
 XXVII 
 
 The same and the same and the Eternally True is My 
 
 Master ! 
 
 He forever subsists, His Nam is True. 
 He is; He shall be; He cannot be thought away, nor 
 
 doth He depart. 
 He made this world of diverse shapes and colours, 
 
 fold on fold, embryo within embryo, that new 
 
 to newer grows and watches my Lord and His 
 
 in Glory!
 
 96 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 All moves by His will. 
 
 He wills as He wills. 
 
 None can undo His will. 
 
 My Lord is the King of Kings, the Absolute! 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Of what avail are thy ear-rings, O Yogi ? l better adorn 
 
 thy mind with peace. 
 Have no desires pulling at thy heart; mind not what 
 
 happens. 
 Of what use the Yogi's Jboli that thou wearest ? make 
 
 retirement within the chambers of thy soul thy 
 
 Jboli \ 
 
 Be self-contained and centred in thy own Self. 
 This Bhibut 2 doth not help thee to forget thy body, 
 
 make Dhyan thy Bhibut, by Dbydn this body 
 
 will be that raiment which death can touch not, 
 Wear, Yogi, this Kbinta 3 of new Youth that fades 
 
 not. 
 
 Make Faith thy Staff. 
 Take the middle path and be patient. 
 Thou canst not be of Ai Sect of Toga by roaming with 
 
 the so-called Yogis; but only if thou sharest 
 
 thy goodness in company with the whole world. 
 
 1 This is evidently addressed to a Yogi of the Ai Sect. They 
 bore their ears and put in thick ear-rings of Jade or wood. They 
 have a wallet like a bag of cloth swung round their shoulders 
 in which they keep the alms. They besmear their bodies with 
 ashes. They wear a long gown made of shreds of cloths. They 
 also have a staff. 
 
 2 Ashes besmeared on the body. 
 
 3 The gown of shreds.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 97 
 
 XXIX 
 
 The Conquest of the world is but the Conquest of thy 
 Self. 
 
 Bow to Him who is the Beginning of all and Who 
 Himself is without beginning, Primal, the Pure, 
 Immutable, Eternal, Who is the One Life un- 
 changing from age to age ! 
 
 Thy Bread be knowledge of God. 
 
 And be kind to all; there is the same throb of life in all 
 
 hearts. 
 
 All things are strung in the string of one life. 
 All power of the Earth and Heaven is His. 
 
 Things are made and unmade, the Wheel of Creation 
 
 whirls around this change. 
 To each one is measured out nor less nor more but what 
 
 is writ in his own destiny ! 
 Bow to Him who is the Beginning of all and who 
 
 Himself is without beginning, the Pure, the 
 
 Immutable, the Eternal, Who is the One Life 
 
 unchanging from age to age! 
 The three children of Maya 1 revolve around the affairs 
 
 of the world. 
 One produces, the other nourishes, the third destroys, 
 
 but these Regents work as He bids them, they 
 
 1 It evidently refers to three dynamic principles that keep 
 creation going.
 
 98 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 move as He commands, He sees them, though 
 
 they see Him not. 1 
 Salute the Beginningless Beginning, the Colourless 
 
 Purity, the Deathless Verity, the Changing 
 
 Permanence, which is the same through ages 
 
 and ages!! 
 
 God makes, and sees what He has made. 
 He is the Lover of Beauty; the art of God transcends 
 
 our senses. 
 No need of sitting in one posture, O Yogi ! 
 
 XXX 
 
 The Fair God is everywhere!! 
 
 He feedeth us in all the spheres; allotted to us is our 
 share, even before our birth ! 
 
 Salute the Beginningless Beginning, the Colourless 
 Purity, the Deathless Verity, the Changing 
 Permanence, which is the same through ages 
 and ages!! 
 
 If one tongue of man were as myriads, these myriads 
 made myriads more again; and if one single 
 utterance were as if a wheel of sound, whose 
 echoes again a myriad had moved, reverberated 
 through the leaves of the forest and blades of 
 grass, so that the sacred sound bound with its 
 spell all nature with its countless threats and 
 voices, 
 
 With such a tongue and with such a sound when Man 
 says Hail, Lord! 
 
 1 The idea is quite clear, that the three principles of 
 Maya are all of the objective, while God is the subject, the 
 Absolute.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 99 
 
 Each pore of his skin sending forth a strain with the 
 
 music of His Nam, 
 Then is the man at one with his Maker, then Man mounts 
 
 high, and is one with God; there is no other way ! 
 
 XXXI 
 
 We have heard the whispers of gods on high; the worm 
 of the earth begins to vie with those whose 
 souls are lit by the glances of God, who beam 
 with Beatitude Eternal! 
 
 The Man plays the fool in thinking so much.of himself. 
 
 What are his resolves, his ideas and efforts, labour and 
 pain? 
 
 Are not his deeds as fates combined against him ? 
 
 Is not his past self his own undoer ? 
 
 No way of escape from the wheel of birth and death 
 but His Saving Mercy, His Grace and Glance! 
 
 Lord! throw me not on myself, of my will I can nor 
 
 speak nor observe silence. 
 Throw me not on my own strength; of my will I can 
 
 nor pray nor give myself to Thee! 
 Nor I can follow life nor even Death! 
 Not by my own power can I a beggar be, or a king ; throw 
 
 me not on myself, for by myself I can nor gain 
 
 my soul nor the knowledge of Thyself. 
 Throw me not on myself, for I am unable to cross the 
 
 Sea of change. 
 
 1 cannot, O Lord! 
 
 Let him who has strength in his arms try, but man is 
 
 weak man for all that. 
 All men are the same, nor more nor less, when seen 
 
 from the Eternal.
 
 ioo SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 XXXII 
 
 Day and night He made. 
 
 He made the seasons, He made the winds and waters 
 
 and fires and nether regions. 
 In mid-air is put this earth and held firm; this is the 
 
 land of Duty, 
 It is as the temple of God. 
 This earth is flower-dyed with diverse species of life, 
 
 the earth teems with their infinitude, 
 As we do here, so shall we be judged, 
 The Court of God separates chaff from wheat, there 
 
 shall be measured unto us our raw and ripe. 
 Each man shall stand alone: his own deeds shall avail 
 
 after the life of this earth. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Honour is there for the Chosen of God and they shall 
 be received by Him with kindness and love and 
 He shall look at them, such is the way of the 
 Dharma-kband, the Region of Action. x 
 
 The Spirit of Judgment rules over the Realm of Action ! 
 
 Great God is merciful! 
 
 But the way of the Region of the Mind 2 is another. 
 The Spirit of Divine Knowledge reigns here! 
 
 1 The reference is to the Realm of Limitation where the 
 embodied souls have to work out their destiny The Jiva 
 Srishti The Man-world. 
 
 s This is the Region of Liberation the Ishwar Shiristi, the 
 God-world.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 101 
 
 In the mind roll winds and waters and fires, 
 
 In the mind are Krishnas, Sbivds, Srabmas by thousands 
 
 and an endless variety of name and form and 
 
 dress. 
 And in it are contained thousand Regions of Duty, 
 
 countless stars, moons and suns. 
 In it are countless Heavens, and countless again are 
 
 the countries and lands and homes. 
 In it are adepts, Buddhds, Yogis, gods and demons. 
 In it are saints. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 In the mind surge the seas, and in it are jewels and 
 
 precious gems. 
 In it are the sources of life, and in it are countless 
 
 languages and countless lines of Kings. 
 In it are the Masters of the Divine Knowledge and in 
 
 it are those who worship. 
 There is the Infinite in the Infinite!! 
 
 
 
 The Region of Mind is lit with God's light. 
 
 There is music endless, there is bliss untold. 
 
 Then comes the higher Realm of Ecstasy! 
 
 There is the holy Rapture, here is naught but Beauty. 
 
 Here are the Titans at work, making idols of beauty, and 
 
 here in this Realm of Ecstasy are made intellect 
 
 and understanding, wisdom and power of men 
 
 and gods. 
 Beyond all words is this Sphere of Ecstasy as subtle 
 
 as a Trance. 
 Its reigning Deity is Beauty!!
 
 102 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 XXXV 
 
 Higher than the Region of Ecstasy is the Realm of 
 
 Grace. 
 
 The Gods of Power rule over this Realm, 
 Great masters who lift man by force as he toils to 
 
 it through the three other Realms of Duty, 
 
 Knowledge and Ecstasy. 
 
 Incomparable, the dwellers of the Realm of Grace; 
 They are mighty heroes full of God's Power ! 
 One understandeth only when he sees this Realm, no 
 word-paintings can picture it for us. 
 
 Here are many Queens as Sitas in Glory, whose beauty 
 
 is what no one can tell another who hath seen it 
 
 not. 
 Nor death nor delusion is for them any more, in whose 
 
 heart He liveth! 
 Here are congregations of saints in bliss, whose minds 
 
 and hearts are inebriate with God. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Higher than all is the Realm of My Lord, 
 
 The Realm Absolute! here reigns The Formless One! 
 
 Here His Glance is my soul's Beatitude! 
 
 In this Realm are contained all Regions, and all the 
 
 Starry Heavens without end! 
 Out of the Formless Infinite come the forms and finite 
 
 beings, never hasting, never resting.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 103 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 They whom He seeth, on whom He raineth the Light 
 
 of His Smiles and pours the showers of the Life 
 
 Eternal, 
 They on whom God bestows His Grace and Glance, 
 
 and whom the Kind One by one glance maketh 
 
 happy, toil hard at their craft as smiths : 
 Chastity of thought and speech and deed is their 
 
 Furnace, 
 Understanding is the Anvil on which they ply their 
 
 craft through the world of self and woe. 
 Divine Wisdom serves as tools for those toilers at life ! 
 The devout awe of the Presence of God, and reverence 
 
 serve them as bellows, and sufferings or vow of 
 
 poverty as fire; 
 They make the Heart of Love the vessel in which melts 
 
 the Gold of Nam and thus they cast and recast 
 
 their being in Love. 
 True is this Mint where Man is cast in the Image of 
 
 God, where Man is the Word and the Word is 
 
 Man: 
 On such as these, He showers His Grace! 
 
 SLOKA 
 
 BORN of the waters, we children of great Earth learn our 
 
 lessons from the winds, 
 And we spin in the arms of Day and Night; they nurse 
 
 us well.
 
 io 4 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Before the Great Judge will be read out our Actions, 
 
 good or bad. 
 By our own Actions we shall be nearer Him or farther 
 
 off! 
 Those who fix their Dbyan on Nam shall pass above 
 
 the pain of labour. 
 Their task is done. 
 Bright are their faces ! 
 And in joy of one liberated soul shall many more be, 
 
 through His Great Love, made free! 
 
 KEERTAN SOHILA, OR THE WEDDING SONG 
 
 I 
 
 SING ye, my comrades, now my wedding song!! 
 
 In the Temple House where saints sing His Nam, where 
 
 saintly hearts glow all day and night with His 
 
 Love, 
 
 Sing ye, my comrades, now the song of His Praise ! 
 Sing the song of my Creator! 
 I fain would be a sacrifice for the harmony divine that 
 
 giveth everlasting Peace! 
 
 My Lord careth for the smallest life, 
 
 The Bounteous Giver meets the needs of each, 
 
 No arithmetic can count His gifts, 
 
 Naught is it that we can render unto Him. 
 
 The Auspicious Day has dawned ! 
 
 The Hour is fixed for my wedding with my Lord!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 105 
 
 Come, comrades ! assemble and make rejoicings, 
 
 Anoint the Bride with oil and pour on her your blessings ! 
 
 Comrades! pray, the Bride may meet her Lord! 
 
 This message to every human being! 
 
 This call is for all. 
 
 O Man! Remember Him who calls ! 
 
 II 
 
 Thy Day too is coming fast ! 
 
 Many are the tabernacles, many the Teachers and 
 
 many the lessons they give. 
 Remember there is but one Guru, The Master of Masters, 
 
 that meeteth man in thousand forms!! 
 O Father! keep Thy Hand on that tabernacle, make it 
 
 Thy own, where thy man melts into the song of 
 
 Hail, Lord ! not because I pray, but because 
 
 Thou art so great ! 
 As moments and hours and days, each with its own 
 
 distinct import, make but one month, 
 And as months, each with its own distinct effect, make 
 
 seasons, each again with its own distinction! 
 
 and the cause of this all is the Shining Sun! 
 So is the Play of the one Maker in the Diversity of 
 Forms! 
 
 Ill 
 
 ARTI x 
 
 The sky is my Azure Salver where the Sun and Moon, 
 Thy lamps, illuminate Thy songs of praise. 
 
 1 The word Arti or Arati originally meant the ceremony of 
 waving lamps at night before an idol. (See Introduction.)
 
 io6 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 The stars are as pearls set in my Salver! O Light of 
 
 Lights ! 
 My incense is the fresh fragrance blown on southern 
 
 winds from sandal forests, frankincense and 
 
 cloves and a hundred spices, 
 All the herbs of the earth rise with their flowers in Thy 
 
 Temple and lay their offerings at Thy Feet! 
 The breezes blow cool from East and South in Thy 
 
 Temple high; they wave the Heavenly Fans in 
 
 Thy Honour! 
 Such is Thy Arti! 
 O All-kind Creator! The Breaker of the Wheel of 
 
 Karma, the great Deliverer! 
 Thou hast a million eyes yet no eyes ! 
 Thou hast a million light-white feet, yet no feet! 
 Thou hast a million forms ! yet no form is Thine, O Lord ! 
 Thy Presence sheds a thousand perfumes and yet Thou 
 
 hast no incense! 
 This Vision of the Invisible is my utmost richness!! 
 
 Light of Lights! Thou art the light of all Hearts! 
 By Thee is kindled both Heaven and Earth. 
 
 The Lord maketh the Invisible Visible to man. 
 To wait for the Coming about of Thy Will is our best 
 worship ! 
 
 1 thirst for Thy Lotus Feet all day and night. 
 
 I long for Thy Fragrant Presence as the bee longs for 
 
 the flowers. 
 Grant me, O Lord, the Nectar of Thy Grace! I am 
 
 athirst like the Sarangl 1 
 
 1 Another name for the Chatrik, the pied Indian cuckoo, who 
 only drinks when the morn is in the mansion of Arcturus, and 
 therefore always thirsts.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 107 
 
 Pour in me Thy Heavenly Drop and let me repose in 
 Thy Holy, Holy Nam \ 
 
 IV 
 
 The human frame is filled with love's desire and passions 
 
 of all kinds ! 
 As it comes and touches the feet of the saint, all is 
 
 reduced to dust. 
 This colliding of the man of sins with the sinless saint 
 
 is as pre-ordained as when two stars collide in 
 
 Heaven, 
 It is the good fortune of Man that he meets his Lord 
 
 and Master, and his Dhyan is fixed on the 
 
 Eternal Verity, 
 
 Break, break, Man, at the feet of the Saint! 
 To do the behest of the Saint is thy highest Dbarmal 
 Break, break, Man, at the feet of the Saint! 
 Mind not the Saktas, men cut off from the Music 
 
 Divine; 
 Mind not those who are out of tune with the Verity of 
 
 Beauty, knowing not the sweet deliciousness of 
 
 Nam. 
 
 There is the thorn of pride in their heart; 
 The more they seem to mount, the more is the pricking 
 
 of this thorn within their heart! 
 From pain to greater pain they march, they bear the 
 
 pain of Tamo's Noose. 
 Absorbed are God's Men in Hari Nam l and have laid 
 
 low at their feet the pain of birth and death and 
 
 fears of the human lot. 
 
 1 The name of God.
 
 io8 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 They have realised the Immortal Person of God. 
 
 They have won the Universal Fame in all the stellar 
 
 and astral systems of creation! 
 O Lord! Thou art great and greatest. 
 Thou art our Prop and Stay! 
 Thine are we for ever! 
 Make us Thine, O Lord! though we are so poor and 
 
 weak, full of misery of soul and woe of thousand 
 
 kinds. 
 
 Make us Thy own slaves and let us repose in Thy Nam. 
 In Thy Love is the fruiting of our life. 
 In Thy Nam is our liberation. 
 
 Thy slave longeth for the peace of lying at the feet 
 
 of Thy saints, of being the dust of their holy 
 
 feet. 
 Make me, O Lord! the dust of thy great temple and of 
 
 Thy saints ! ! 
 
 Look up, ye friends! the Dawn of Death is breaking! 
 I call ye out of the love of my heart for ye!! 
 Awake and up! it is high time for ye to render up this 
 
 life at the feet of the saints ! 
 Rise and earn the Treasure of Hari Nam from the 
 
 company of the saints. 
 Provide for the life hereafter, 
 Behold, the Dawn of Death is breaking yonder and soon 
 
 shall ye be called ! ! 
 
 God gave ye this life for this divine purpose. 
 How day and night steal it from you drop by drop and 
 
 how your heart is drained to waste!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 109 
 
 O Man ! rise and lay thyself at the feet of the saints and 
 
 win thy life, ere it is all lost in folly! 
 The Man of Divine Knowledge swims across the sea of 
 
 Maya, 
 The world is in the welter deep, it shall thus remain in 
 
 doubt. 
 Rise thou, O brave disciple! mind not the world and 
 
 win for thyself the Castle of Immortality as the 
 
 Master bids ! 
 
 VI 
 
 He knows the unknowable whom Thou wakest with 
 Thy own hands and makest to drink the Cup of 
 Thy delicious Love!! 
 
 VII 
 
 Fly, my soul, fly! from the dust and smoke of life into 
 
 the Pure! 
 
 For this achievement thou didst come. 
 Win thy Master's love through which shall the Love of 
 
 God be thine. 
 
 He shall then make thy heart His abode ! 
 Disciple, up! win this prize of life, and lie in sweet 
 
 repose in the arms of God, with thy freedom all 
 
 gained. 
 
 O Lord, Thou knowest the inmost of our hearts! 
 Thou fructifiest our desires and Thou art the Arbiter 
 
 of our fates ! 
 Sweet one! make me the dust of Thy Temple.
 
 no SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 SISTERS! IT IS THE MONTH OF RAIN 
 WADHANS MAHLA I. (Guru Nanak) 
 
 THE Peacocks have begun their dance, 
 O sisters ! it is the Month of Rain, 
 It raineth : Rhin Jhin, Rhin Jhin ! 
 It raineth Joy ! Rhin Jhin, Rhin Jhin ! 
 O woman! Great indeed the power of your eyes, if you 
 have conquered the All-Conqueror! 
 
 Beloved! I would fain be a sacrifice myself, if thou 
 
 wouldst come! 
 
 1 am sacrificed for the joy of Naming Thee. 
 
 They say, I am proud! I am proud because Thou art 
 mine ! without Thee what am I ? Dust, dust 
 and ashes! 
 
 O sisters! it is the Month of Rain! 
 
 It raineth indeed if He come! 
 
 It raineth : Rhin Jhin ! Rhin Jhin ! 
 
 It raineth Joy! Rhin Jhin ! Rhin Jhin ! 
 
 Joy ! joy for them, they are with Him ! 
 
 My comrades are with Him, they sing and live in love! 
 
 II 
 
 Vacant is my house, vacant my bed! He hath not come. 
 Now let me break my crimson-lacquered ivory bangles 
 
 against the crimson-lacquered bed, and scatter 
 
 the pieces in the empty room. 
 In vain, these jewelled arms; vain this crimson lacquer, 
 
 when He cometh not.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL in 
 
 For, after all this waiting, hath He not turned away 
 from me ? 
 
 woman, not in crimson-lacquered bangles, not in the 
 
 makers of bangles, and not in decked arms and 
 lovely gems ; not in these thy love shall be 
 known. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Ah! but where shall I go ? No way, no door for me! 
 And yet, O mother, are there not some who have called 
 
 me beautiful ? 
 But He looks not at me, 
 He likes me not. 
 Burnt, then, be all my beauty. 
 
 1 have had my hair dressed, the tresses were parted in 
 
 the middle, they were woven and plaited down 
 on either side with perfumed wax, the parting 
 in the middle was filled with vermilion! 
 
 How fair I looked; and beautiful was my smooth and 
 plaited hair; 
 
 But He looked not at me! 
 
 All was over in a minute! I am forlorn! bereft of His 
 Love. 
 
 IV 
 
 In my misery, my soul cries out from its very depths! 
 I weep, and with me weeps the world ! 
 The birds of the forest weep for me ! 
 The rivers and rocks weep with me! 
 But weepeth not for me my own cruel self, that has 
 been my ruin!
 
 ii2 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 V 
 
 In a dream once He came to me! 
 
 He came and went away! 
 
 My eyes were filled with tears, it was all a dream ! 
 
 Alas, my Beloved! Thou art where I dare neither go, 
 
 nor send a messenger! Nor can I, even if I would ! 
 
 No news comes from Thee, no message can reach 
 
 Thee from me! 
 Is not this Vacant Waking all one pain! 
 
 sleep! come steal over me! 
 
 Put me to rest, perchance I may see Him again in the 
 sleep of happy dreams. 
 
 VI 
 
 If any one came to give me the news of my Beloved! 
 Ah! if any one were to come now to me! 
 Do you know what I would give Him ! 
 Oh! I have learnt it with bitter experience. 
 
 1 would give to my Lord the whole of myself! 
 I would give it clean away ! 
 
 I will keep nothing for myself even to serve Him with! 
 Having offered myself, I shall borrow the offerings from 
 Him and serve Him with his own! 
 
 VII 
 
 The Peacocks have begun their dance, Rhin Jhin, 
 
 Rbin Jhin, Rhin Jhin, 
 O sisters! it is indeed the Month of Rain! 
 It raineth: Rhin Jhin! Rhin Jhin! 
 It raineth Joy ! Rhin Jhin ! Rhin Jhin ! 
 Joy! joy! is the news! 
 Glory ! glory ! is all life !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 113 
 
 THE MOMENT WHEN I SEE THEE NOT 
 
 MAHLA V. (Guru Arjan Dev, when quite young) 
 
 THE moment when I see Thee not, that one moment 
 
 is a long dark age to me; 
 
 When shall I see Thee ? so many days have passed! 
 My mind feels such a pang as that of the chatrik that 
 
 cries for the rain-clouds ! 
 
 Without seeing Thee, O Beloved Saint! neither my 
 
 thirst abates nor do I have any rest. 
 Fair God! Beautiful is Thy Face, and how deep and 
 
 sweet is the melody of Thy Voice. 
 Not days, ages have now gone by; Thy Chatrik has 
 
 had not his Nectar-drop ! 
 Blessed is that Land where Thou dwellest! 
 I pant for Thee, Divine Friend! 
 Passes not my night, my eyes know no sleep. 
 When shall I see Thee, Lord! 
 
 To-day breaks the Morn of Fortune for me. 
 
 I find to-day my dear Lord, my Saint! 
 
 All bliss is life, I have found my love within myself. 
 
 No separation now, no pining, I am now for ever at 
 
 His Feet, 
 I am now for ever in His Service !
 
 THE HUSBAND OF THE COUNTLESS WORLDS 
 (Guru Arjan Dev) 
 
 THE Husband of the Countless Worlds! 
 
 The Sustainer of All-Life! 
 
 That One, the All-Nourisher, The All-Protector, the 
 
 All-Saviour ! 
 
 What ignorance! I cannot yet realise His Beauty! 
 I know not how to worship Him ! 
 I know not how to pour my love at His Feet ! 
 I only say, " Hari, Han!" " Master, Master!" 
 " Hari," " Guru " are one, for me His Name is Guru 
 
 Ram Das! 
 The Ocean of Peace, how it surges in its limitless expanse 
 
 and how its billows wave along from heart to 
 
 heart, it filleth all ! 
 
 In me, he hears and sees all what I say and do. 
 I was so ignorant, I thought the Omnipresent to be 
 
 somewhere outside me. 
 The Infinite, how can I bound by limitations of all 
 
 kinds, speak of Him, without mis-saying Him ? 
 How can I say what He is like ? 
 O my Guru! speak to me the ignorant, what is He 
 
 like? 
 
 The Husband of the countless Worlds ! 
 The Sustainer of All-Life! 
 That One, the All-Nourisher, the All-Protector, the 
 
 All-Saviour !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 115 
 
 I am just one, through Whose graces, countless millions 
 of men have obtained their freedom! 
 
 Those who have received the inspiration from the lips 
 of Guru Nanak, 
 
 Those who have met and touched Guru Nanak, 
 
 The chains of their bondage are cut for ever! 
 
 They are Free ! 
 
 The Husband of the countless Worlds ! 
 
 The Sustainer of All-Life ! 
 
 That One, the All-Nourisher, the All-Protector, the 
 All-Saviour! 
 
 GIVE HIM, THE BELOVED, THE NEWS OF US 
 
 (Guru Gobind Singh) 
 
 GIVE Him, the Beloved, the news of us, the disciples! 
 Without Thee, rich raiment, fine linen, beds of down, 
 
 what are they but torment ? 
 
 The pleasures of these high mansions bite like snakes! 
 The lips of the wine-cup cut us like thin-edged poniards. 
 And but a draught of distress, this jug of wine, when 
 
 Thou art not with us ! 
 But the pallet of pale straw! It is Heaven, if Thou be 
 
 there ! 
 Burnt be the palaces, burnt and consumed the high 
 
 palace-walls, if thou be not there!
 
 ii6 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 READINGS FROM BAVAN ANKHRf 
 
 MAHLA I. (Guru Arjan Dev) 
 
 I 
 
 MY mother, my father, my owner is my Lord. 
 
 The breaker of the spell of ignorance, my friend, my 
 
 kinsman first and last is my dear Master. 
 He is the bestower of Nam on me, 
 He has given me the gift of Eternal Repose. 
 He incarnates for me, the Heaven of Peace. 
 He is the Paras, His touch is alchemical. 
 The Lord is my holy place of pilgrimage. 
 He is the fountain of the Nectar of Life; 
 All knowledge is mine, when I plunge into Him and 
 
 bathe myself in His Purity. 
 
 The Lord is my maker, He makes me blessed and sinless. 
 It is He who lifts up the fallen, embraces the despised. 
 He is the beginning, He is the eternal ages, 
 He is the Word, the Nam that saves man. 
 O God! unite me with my Lord and Teacher, bestow 
 
 Thy Grace on me. 
 Hush! Silence! Bow to him. 
 He is the God in man, aye, He is the God in God, the 
 
 Eternal Essence of things ! 
 
 II 
 
 Holy is the dust of the lotus feet of Thy saints ! 
 
 Great is Thy Glory, Thou makest such minds as these !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 117 
 
 I wish for no property, nor do I desire Heaven, 
 
 I wish I were but the dust of their feet ! 
 
 Pour in me more and more, that Heavenly Love, that 
 
 worships Thy saints, 
 I wish I were the dust of their feet ! ! 
 In the love of One, I am free. 
 The saint is the Torch of Nam, he is both man and God. 
 
 Ill 
 
 O disciple, bathe thy mind in the colours of His Glory, 
 
 fill thy heart with His Greatness, 
 And pour out His Nam, from the depths of thy soul; 
 
 and let this gushing fountain lave thy being in 
 
 sweet deliciousness of His Love. 
 Recite His Nam that the chords of thy being may 
 
 vibrate with the music of love. 
 In realms beyond death, thus shalt thou be an Honoured 
 
 Guest. 
 Thine shall be the life wedded to love in High Mansions 
 
 of Thy Lord, a life everlasting lifted off for ever 
 
 from the wheel of Birth and Death. 
 Such prosperous life of the spirit is theirs, whom He 
 
 Himself makes so fortunate. 
 
 IV 
 
 They come and they go, 
 
 But they have come indeed whose lips are closed with 
 
 the Honey of His Praise. 
 Full-fruited is their life!! 
 
 L
 
 ii8 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 They have come indeed who live in the Saint and there 
 in his being drink deep the Glory Divine, their 
 souls all dyed in joys of Love. 
 
 They have come indeed who have blended their souls 
 with Nam through the Divine Grace. 
 
 No more coming and going, for them; they live for 
 ever in the Divine Presence, their eyes looking 
 into His, His Eyes looking into theirs, their souls 
 enwrapped in His, and His in theirs. 
 
 V 
 
 He is very beautiful, 
 
 He comes of a noble race, 
 
 Great is his mind and power, 
 
 He is a rich man. 
 
 But ah! he is dead, for he hath not the love of the Lord. 
 
 VI 
 
 Transparent grows my soul in converse with my Beau- 
 tiful Saint. 
 
 All distress of thought is over for me, for my eyes look 
 straight at the Beloved and see but One. 
 
 To-day the Lotus Feet of the Blessed One touch me!! 
 
 Beautiful is this day, all was for this; my life rolled for 
 ages and wandered for this. 
 
 It is at His own will and pleasure that He admits me 
 into His presence, 
 
 When I see Him, all thinking is lost and thoughts of 
 " thee " and " me " drop away from me.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 119 
 
 VII 
 
 O Beloved! 
 
 We are as Thy little children, 
 
 Make us the servants of Thy servants, the slaves of 
 Thy slaves, who are the essence of Thy Creation, 
 the life of Thy Life. 
 
 We children pray, that we may be able to give up all 
 ignorance of self and walk humble on the path 
 of life. 
 
 With the help of Thy saints, we, even we, the illusion- 
 toys of the Shadow, attain to the Highest Verity. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Fetch that elixir then! 
 
 By which all distress may end forthwith, 
 
 When the elixir of Nam invigorates the sources of Life 
 
 in me, what is death, decay, disease or distress ? 
 Concealed within lies this Ambrosia at the heart of 
 
 human life, but the man knoweth not till the 
 
 Guru opens the door of the heart; 
 When this is done, all is done. 
 
 IX 
 
 Hate no one, bear enmity to none, in each and every 
 
 one is He. 
 That all-permeating Love deluges lands and waters 
 
 with Himself, 
 
 Few are those who favoured by the Guru see Him thus ! 
 They who are inspired direct from the lips of the Guru,
 
 120 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 they who have lighted their hearts from His 
 
 burning heart, know this truth: 
 Those hearts are clean, those minds mount high, and 
 
 no differences divide them from the Universe. 
 Their Beautiful Beloved is independent of flesh-colours 
 
 and flesh-features ; they invoke in us His Great 
 
 Love. 
 
 X 
 
 Peace is mine, when selfishness drops from me, 
 
 How can I be free of disease when selfishness, the root 
 
 of all disease, feeds deep on me. 
 Now that I see my Love, myself is gone, my love is all. 
 
 XI 
 
 If it be Thy wish, O Lord ! even stones shall swim over 
 
 the world-waters, 
 A traitor to thy salt ! I ? 
 A runaway from thee ! I ? 
 Thou who gavest me birth, bestowed on me the shrine 
 
 of this human body, and added unto me the 
 
 thousand joys of life, my heart is empty of all 
 
 love for Thee. 
 It runneth in all directions to gather the world-sands, 
 
 and filleth itself with dust of nothing; 
 A reviler! a thief! a traitor! I ? 
 O my Merciful Love, Thou canst save me still with a 
 
 Glance, but one Glance of Thine! 
 Thus my all-bad will change into all-good, in the light 
 
 of Thy Smile, 
 If it be Thy wish, O Lord ! even the stones shall swim 
 
 over the world-waters.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 121 
 
 XII 
 
 The Transcendental Beauty ! 
 
 O Beloved! above all thought and feeling! 
 
 Thou holdest in Thy Hand the Inscrutable Pen, and how 
 it writes on our foreheads ! 
 
 "Our foreheads are Thy beautiful letters of destiny! 
 
 Who can praise Thee ? for lips get sealed with honey, 
 and eyes are closed by Thy Beauty, and the 
 human soul is lost in looking at Thee. 
 
 May I be an eternal sacrifice at the altar of Thy Fame. 
 
 FROM JAYTESWARY DI-VAR 
 XIII 
 
 A MAN ! 
 
 He lived in a broken-down hut, 
 
 He was clad in rags ; 
 
 He had no caste, no rank in this world; 
 
 No one so poor as to notice him as he walked along the 
 
 roads of life, 
 
 All alone, no friend he had, no support; 
 He had no wealth, nor beauty of features, 
 He had no blood-relations, 
 But he was the King of Creation, 
 His mind was immersed in Nam, 
 From him did drip the Honey of Love ! ! 
 If one gets the gift of the dust of the feet of such as he, 
 
 it is the sign of divine grace, for anointed with 
 
 this dust, a man becomes a man.
 
 122 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 XIV 
 
 Those who love Him, love nothing else, 
 
 To them nothing else is at all sweet ! 
 
 They have seen all other things are sickening, 
 
 This Love Divine has broken the spell of their ignorance 
 
 and they have obtained deliverance from pain. 
 He abideth for ever, all else perisheth! 
 His Sacred Feet imprint gentle soft touches on their 
 
 heart and He is in them as the dye in the dyestuff . 
 
 XV 
 
 As water is to the fish, 
 
 As cloud-drops to the chatrik, 
 
 As lotus-scent to the bee, that gives itself to be shut 
 
 within its petalous embrace, 
 Even a cobra that is near lifts its hood in love and song; 
 
 listening forgets its nature and stands venomless 
 
 and harmless, a comrade of man; 
 So is God for the Saints; seeing Him, they are to Him 
 
 and He is to them what no two things can be 
 
 to each other. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Wait, O woman of love and longing ! 
 
 It is He who fulfils the longings of Love! 
 
 Thy waitings shall bear fruit; 
 
 Find Him, and sorrow not nor pine, 
 
 One glance of His shall close the lips of all thy sweet 
 
 complaints. 
 Fill thy heart with the gladness of thy waitings for Him.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 123 
 
 From His Shining Silver Feet the life-pollen falls, this 
 
 rain of pollen from His Feet makes us holy. 
 He is for ever with us. 
 
 XVII 
 
 A thousand times I would die for those, who listen to 
 
 His story, who are informed of Him; 
 They are honourable men who lay their foreheads on 
 
 the dust before my Lord in total self-surrender! 
 Those hands are beautiful, they look to me so bright 
 
 and fair, the hands that write His praise without 
 
 end. 
 Those feet are holy that go the way which goes to my 
 
 Lord. 
 All calamity is over in company of the saints ! 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Kind One! now meet me! 
 
 1 fall at Thy door, Kind King of the poor! protect me! 
 Long have I wandered, far and wide, and I am now 
 
 hungry and starved, weak and lean, old and 
 
 ragged. 
 
 They say Thy vow of Love is to lift up the fallen; 
 They say Thou art as mother-cow to her calf; 
 Infinite kindness of Thine has sworn, they say, to save 
 
 man! 
 O Essence! O Verity! listen to me, I have none but 
 
 Thee! 
 
 O Kind One, now meet me! 
 Now bend low! now bend low! and take me up in Thy 
 
 Arms, 
 O Kind One, come and now meet me!
 
 124 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 FROM ANAND SAHIB 
 
 XIX 
 PEACE! 
 
 My Mother! I have found Peace in my Lord! 
 He gives it to me; 
 Spontaneous music of triumph of soul and joy of life 
 
 swells up in me; 
 
 In the temple of my heart is the concourse of celestials ! 
 O celestials! Raise in me songs of the Praise of Him, 
 
 Who having made in me His Dwelling, makes 
 
 me a palace of music and joy. 
 Peace I have found in my Lord ! 
 Now live with thy God, 
 
 Be His, put all sorrow and pain and thought aside, 
 Mind no business of thy own, thy concerns now are His ! 
 Leave all else, but leave not Him who is the All-doer, 
 Now live with thy Love ! 
 O King of my heart! What is there that is not in Thy 
 
 Stores ? 
 
 All is there, but the greatest is the song of Thy Praise! 
 The song of Thy Praise is bestowed on them whom 
 
 Thou choosest! 
 In their heart dwells Nam and their flesh resonates 
 
 with the music divine. 
 Give up all else, let go these chains that bind and 
 
 enslave ; 
 
 Build thyself on the rock of Nam, 
 Make Nam thy Bread of Life! 
 Eat of this Bread that kills all kinds of hungers,
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 125 
 
 Behold, thy desires stand before thee as trees laden with 
 
 fruits. 
 Honoured is he of the Lord who bears so much love! 
 
 Lovers of the Good ! give your life to Nam, 
 
 All blessed is that home where the stream of this divine 
 music flows, they have won self, and death lies 
 low. 
 
 XX 
 
 My mind is happy, my heart dances with joy, 
 
 1 hear my Lord will soon be here. 
 
 O my comrades! sing together, my Lord cometh! 
 To-day my house is the holy temple of the Beloved, 
 
 to-day are we not all sacred ? 
 Sing ye, my comrades, the everlasting songs of love, 
 
 let no sorrow rule within ! 
 This day is the day of fruits of life! 
 To-day we see our Husband come, let us make to-day 
 
 full feast with Him, it is all joy ! 
 He cometh of Himself to us, 
 Say not now why I came into the world, 
 Say not now what I have done here. 
 Say not now, pray, that I love Him not. 
 By His kindness, my past is vindicated now, 
 My body is sacred now, for it has met its Owner, 
 My mind is pure, for there the Light shines from His 
 
 Lotus Feet. 
 
 XXI 
 
 O eyes! my eyes! the Lord has placed his lights in 
 you ; see no one else now, for these eyes have 
 seen the Beloved. 
 
 O eyes! my eyes! this great world that lies before
 
 126 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 your gaze is the flesh of my Beloved, all this is 
 
 the beauteous form of my Beloved. 
 I knew it not, ere this; I know it now through His 
 
 Grace; He is everywhere, there is none else. 
 O eyes ! my eyes ! 
 These eyes were blind, this celestial vision has been 
 
 given me by my dear Lord. 
 See this vision now and nothing else!! 
 
 XXII 
 
 My sweet, sweet God has concealed in a cave within 
 
 this human frame, a mystic violin whose chords 
 
 break forth into an unheard-of music as His 
 
 Breath passes through man. 
 The music of life comes streaming through the nine gates 
 
 of the body, the tenth portal being all closed! 
 O ears! my ears! ye are sent here to hear this sacred 
 
 Song of Truth by whose cadence the dried-up 
 
 heart is once more made green and speech is 
 
 lost in joy! 
 Some there are, who sit at the door of the temple, and 
 
 wait till some one opens the tenth portal. 
 When this door of life opens, a million instruments of 
 
 music strike the wedding-song of man. 
 This song is only heard in the heart of Truth, this music 
 
 is of the Real. 
 
 ears! my ears! ye are sent here to hear this sacred 
 
 Song of Truth. 
 
 1 fell at the feet of my Lord and Master and I have 
 
 heard now this Hidden Song. 
 I vibrate with the wedding-joys !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 127 
 
 FROM RAHRAS 
 
 XXIII 
 
 HARD! very hard indeed is the life of Love and Nam 
 
 (because of its delicacy and tenderness, because 
 
 of its soft aromas, and its still softer hues). 
 In it I live, and out of it I die. 
 I feel hungry of Thee, when Thou fillest me with Thy 
 
 Bread of Love, all my woes depart. 
 Do what we may, we cannot spare even a sesame seed 
 
 out of His Infinite Nature, 
 He grows not more if we sing His Praise, nor doth He 
 
 grow less if we sing Him not. 
 One thing I know, He dies not, nor pain nor sorrow is 
 
 in Him. 
 He is my true Husband, my Mother! how can I forget 
 
 Him? 
 He gives and asks not, He goes on giving to all, this is 
 
 His one great sign, 
 Nor was one, nor can there be one like Him, His gifts 
 
 wear on them His likeness. 
 The days and nights are His, one who forgets Him has 
 
 no noble blood in his veins. 
 Without Him the lot of man is that of a widow. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Look! the shades of evening spread, their wings half 
 crimsoned in the rays of the setting sun.
 
 128 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 The soft slow zephyrs blow, carrying shadows to 
 
 and fro. 
 O man! why art thou so crestfallen in the thought of 
 
 thy bread, why this " What shall I eat ? " and 
 
 " Whence ? " 
 Behold, the flocks of cranes fly in mid-sky and they 
 
 have their little ones safe-buried in sands behind, 
 
 and they have no such fear; they ask not who 
 
 shall provide for their little ones! 
 These birds perhaps know the secret, they only look 
 
 up and their eyes see Him that helps, 
 They are flying free, singing His Nam. 
 O man! why art thou so crestfallen? why dissipate 
 
 thyself in vain desires ? 
 His stores have plenty for all, 
 The little lives He has brought forth in the crevices 
 
 of stones, there is bread for them stored even 
 
 before their birth. 
 My friend! thy distress is not the want of bread; thy 
 
 misery is thou hast not yet seen the Reality 
 
 face to face. 
 
 Man attains the highest by the Divine Grace, 
 By the glance of the Guru towards us, we rise as 
 
 green living trees out of the dead and decayed 
 
 wood. 
 
 Who cares for us, my friend ? father, mother, sweet- 
 hearts all are for themselves and no one needs 
 
 to care for another. 
 Be not crestfallen, be not so dejected and sad, for 
 
 above us all is one sweet Beloved Who careth 
 
 for all. 
 All things are held m the palms of His Hands,
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 129 
 
 O my Sweet Beautiful One! die I may a thousand 
 times and come again a thousand times more to 
 be a sacrifice, but there is no end to Thy delight- 
 fulness; the ever new, the ever fresh glory!! 
 
 XXV 
 
 This little shrine of human body! 
 
 This great opportunity of Life! 
 
 The object is to meet the Beloved, thy Maker! 
 
 Nothing else shall stand by thee, nothing else availeth! 
 
 Get up; go and meet the Saints and live with them in 
 their service as a torch divine of Nam. 
 
 Death above thy head, before thee is the Great World- 
 sea of thought and desire! 
 
 Thy hours pass in transient self-spending pleasures of 
 Maya. 
 
 No training in arts of soul-culture nor recitation of 
 Nam, nor hast thou sought the kingdom within 
 thyself, nor hast thou followed the science of 
 obedience to His Will, nor hast thou served the 
 Saints. 
 
 Shame! O shame! Thou hast not yet seen thy God. 
 
 O Lord ! so low in scale of life, so mean my performance ! 
 
 Oh! For the Honour of Thy Door of Mercy protect me, 
 such as even me, my Lord !
 
 130 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 FROM BARAN MAHAN 
 
 The Seasons 
 XXVI 
 
 FLUNG away are we from Thee, O Beloved, of our own 
 freedom and by our own doings ! 
 
 Now it is all over, I have seen all the ten directions and 
 all the four continents, I find no home, no rest; 
 I return to Thee, now it is evening of my life. 
 
 Through Thy saving Love, restore me once again to 
 Thyself! 
 
 What am I without You ? 
 
 As useless as a cow without milk, as a branch cut off 
 from the juice of the tree, 
 
 Burnt be the town and the city where cometh not my 
 Beloved! 
 
 If the Beloved is not by me, 
 
 All friends and blood-relations are as death, 
 
 All my fine decoration of self, the supremacy of orna- 
 ments and robes, of the betelnut dye on my lips, 
 the pride of my beautiful flesh, the tints of love 
 and longings, the deliciousness of emotions 
 all, all is sour and unripe! 
 
 O God ! Bestow on me Thy Nam, unite me with Thy- 
 self! 
 
 O Beloved! Thy Palaces never pass away! 
 
 The evening falls, my Beloved! I fall at Thy Door 
 imploring protection ! !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 131 
 
 XXVII 
 
 My soul is on fire! 
 
 The Spring is in its half-opened buds ! 
 
 How great the joy if my lips ope and say His Ndm\ 
 
 O Saints! put on my tongue that Honey which makes 
 
 so life-giving the repetition of His Nam\ 
 The Spring indeed for those who have met Him ! 
 In vain the mother gives birth to that life which passes 
 
 outside the maddening circle of His Arms ! 
 Without the cooling touch of His Love, this life is all 
 
 fire, all pain to me! 
 
 He Who pervades all lands and waters, 
 He by Whose Beauty all world-forests are beautiful, 
 
 aye, even the little grass blades as great and 
 
 beautiful, 
 How great is my distress when His Love springeth not 
 
 in me. 
 
 The Spring is now in youth, full-moon are its blossoms, 
 Now pray ! how can I keep quiet, how can I be patient, 
 
 I, I who have wounds of Love within ! 
 Shame! Shame! I forget my Beloved and pass my 
 
 days, desire-pulled in the deserts of Maya! 
 Ah! this way of ruin have thousands gone and perished! 
 All is death and ruin but His Great Love, His Nam. 
 Pure are the hearts of those who are at the Feet of my 
 
 Beloved! 
 Meet me, O Beloved ! Pray come to me now!
 
 132 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Spring is gone with all its flowers! 
 
 Hot indeed is the Tropical Summer! 
 
 It is a burning waste for those who are not with 
 
 God! 
 O Soul! why art thou running to and fro aimlessly, 
 
 seeking favours of men and women and things, 
 
 so hard-pressed, so heat-oppressed! 
 Why meetest thou not the living Man whose life is the 
 
 life of the whole creation ! 
 Behold! The night passeth ! The Dawn of Death breaks 
 
 yonder! 
 O Soul! why sorrowest thou now, when the night of 
 
 love, the time and opportunity thou hadst, is 
 
 recklessly wasted ? 
 Such is her fate, she saw not her Husband, it was so 
 
 writ! 
 They who have met here their Saint attain freedom 
 
 there. 
 O Beloved! This much favour I ask, that I may 
 
 have thirst enough to drink deep of Thy 
 
 Beauty! 
 O Lord! There is no other who would look at me with 
 
 so much favour! 
 But not at all is the Summer hot, nay it is genial warmth, 
 
 to those whose hearts are pure with the touch of 
 
 His Lotus Feet, 
 The clouds come, the lightning flashes and it rains 
 
 nectar-rain within their souls ! 
 Drenched are they and fine glows the colour of their
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 133 
 
 body and soul dyed with the dye of youth and 
 
 life of the Beloved] 
 In the light of this Beauty, in the presence of this 
 
 Glancing Reality, all else is a lie, all other dyes 
 
 are fading shadows of Illusion. 
 Ah! Beautiful is the waiting for the Pearl-drop of this 
 
 Nectar from Heaven! Beautiful are the Brides! 
 
 Beautiful are their cups of joy! Beautiful is 
 
 the Saint, mingling with whose life their life, the 
 
 Disciples drink so deep! 
 Their eyes are lighted with celestial light; from the 
 
 humble grass blades to the mighty forests, all 
 
 things are deluged with the Beloved. 
 All is fresh with the life of the All-Powerful Creator, 
 
 the Infinite Man. 
 I long to meet my Love ! 
 Ah ! But no transitory dreamy sentiments can take me 
 
 to Him ! 
 
 My whole self, whatever it be, assigns me my place. 
 Content where I am, O Lord, look at me, bend on 
 
 me a kind glance. 
 I wish to be the slave of those who have won their seats 
 
 on high. 
 
 O Love! Just look at me! 
 Fair is the Month of Rain, delicious ! to those who have 
 
 the Garland of His Arms entwined round their 
 
 necks! 
 
 XXIX 
 
 It is winter now! 
 
 As he sows, so the fanner reaps, this life is the soil of 
 God! 
 
 M
 
 134 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 The black have turned grey, the hands of man now 
 shake, the flesh creeps on the bones and con- 
 vulsive fits overcome the flesh. The messengers 
 of death have put their noose on his neck and 
 they march him on whither he knows not, nor 
 do the messengers of death tell him this. Those 
 who were his can do naught for him, so they have 
 also deserted him out of helplessness. 
 
 In vain did he pride over his all, all is lost in a moment. 
 Such is the human lot ! 
 
 But never, O never, has the winter a sting for those 
 who have met the Master! The Guru protects 
 them to the very last. 
 
 All things freeze in winter, but the feelings of love break 
 open the crust of earth ! 
 
 Ah ! Love flows in a stream ! 
 
 Some one come! and take me to the Beloved! the 
 Saints aid one on the path of love, Saints and no 
 one else. 
 
 Come, O my mother! Take me to the Saints! There 
 is no other way, my mother, no other way. 
 
 There is no other place, my mother, no other place, 
 where I can find rest. 
 
 Nothing else can please me, nothing else can make me 
 happy, restore me to the arms of my Beloved. 
 
 They who have drunk of this cup, are informed of His 
 Bliss that never breaks! Once with Him, for 
 ever with Him! 
 
 The Bride is with the Bridegroom! where is winter? 
 where is Death ?
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 135 
 
 XXX 
 
 For our distress we blame no one! No one but we 
 
 ourselves make our lot, be it good or bad. 
 We invite all distress and disease to ourselves when we 
 
 turn our backs on God. 
 
 We suffer the pangs of separation, life after life. 
 All that is, is good! All this Evanescent May ^-splendour 
 
 is delicious ! 
 
 But bitter indeed is the cup, when He is not amidst us. 
 O Deliverer of the Bound! 
 O Saviour of the Fallen! 
 Grant me the society of Saints! 
 All life for a Saint! 
 When once again I thus shall meet my Lord, the misery 
 
 of ages will be left behind as a mortal tale. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Those who live with the Beloved never perish. 
 
 I see them standing there in eternity, how bright are 
 
 these figures of Love! 
 The garlands of rubies and diamonds and pearls sparkle 
 
 on their necks, 
 
 I long for the life-dust of their feet! 
 They are standing there doing the service of Love! 
 The garlands of rubies and diamonds and pearls sparkle 
 
 on their necks.
 
 136 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 FROM ASA-DI-VAR 
 
 MAHLA I. (Guru Nanak) 
 
 XXXII 
 
 THY stellar and astral systems stand; they are Truth. 
 
 All Forms of Thy Creation are; that is Truth. 
 
 All Thy Doings are Truth, and all Thy Thinkings. 
 
 Thy Will is Truth and Thy Presence. 
 
 Thy Sayings are Truth and Thy Bidding. 
 
 Thy Blessing is Truth and Truth is Thy Sign. 
 
 Thou art Truth, and Thy Power, and Thy Life, 
 
 And Thy Praise is Truth. 
 
 Thy Emanations are Truth. 
 
 Thy Miracle of Creation is Truth and Thy Art of 
 
 Creating. 
 
 They are true who love the Truth, 
 All else is flesh of change like fragile glass. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Wonder of all wonders! So wondrous the sound itself 
 and then the sound with meaning! ! 
 
 Wonder of wonders! so wondrous this life and then this 
 life with all its mystery!! 
 
 So wondrous the forms of life, and then the forms of 
 life with all their feelings ! ! 
 
 So common teems all life before us, yet how secret !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 137 
 
 How wondrous these waters, these winds, these fires 
 
 that play!! 
 How wondrous the earth and the dust and the minerals 
 
 in it!! 
 
 All kingdoms of life how various ! ! 
 Wonder of wonders! so wondrous!! The men have 
 
 taste in their mouths, they have likings and 
 
 disli kings ! ! 
 How wondrously we meet and part!! We feel hunger 
 
 and we have the feeling of satiation!! 
 How wondrously lips pipe His Praise!! 
 Wonder is the path we tread and the wilderness with 
 
 no path!! 
 
 Wonder is what is near and what is far!! 
 A wonder is the man that, filled with wonder, sees his 
 
 Maker in himself and everywhere. 
 And how wondrous is the repose that sees the Glory 
 
 even above the realms of wonder: 
 The knowledge above all knowledge, the knowing above 
 
 the knowing of wonder, this worship, this 
 
 illumination is the perfection of human destiny. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 It is the Miracle of His Own Presence! 
 
 We see but the products of His Art of Creation! 
 
 We hear but the music of His Art of Creation! 
 
 The Awe of His Wondrous Presence, the Truth, the 
 
 Peace are all elements of His Divine Art. 
 Above the skies is the display of His Art, 
 And below is the same.
 
 138 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 All thoughts of men, their books and their process of 
 thinking, aye, all inspiration is of His Art. 
 
 The arts of eating, drinking, wearing and the art of 
 loving are of His Art ! 
 
 The countless colour-glories, the created beings, all 
 goodness and virtue, all vice and wickedness, 
 all pride and glow, all humility and pallor, 
 move with the all-teeming life on His Canvas. 
 
 Everything is His Expression. 
 
 O Lord! this is all Thy Art Divine. 
 
 Above all and in all art Thou, the Immaculate, the 
 Supreme Immanence. 
 
 He who lives in Thee sees but One. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 He read and read and heaped carts on carts of the books 
 
 of learning: 
 He read and read, and carts behind carts of the books 
 
 of learning moved behind him as he went: 
 He read and read, and ships on ships of the books of 
 
 learning sailed: 
 He read and read, and heaps on heaps of the books of 
 
 learning were buried in dust : 
 
 He read and read, years on years and centuries sped: 
 Let him read, let him acquire more if he likes: 
 Ah, but not this way, not this way ! 
 The man needs but One Thing, 
 All else is vanity, dust, dust and ashes.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 139 
 
 FROM GURU NANAK (when a boy). 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 NOT this, not this is the Sacred Thread, O Brahman ! 
 If divine forgiveness is in me, it will provide the cotton 
 
 for my Sacred Thread : 
 And if I am at peace with the Will of my Maker, that 
 
 will give me the Sacred-spun : 
 If I am in my centre of life and if I am true to the Truth 
 
 in me, the fibres of my Sacred Thread are twisted 
 
 well enough indeed! 
 My Brahman! put on me the Sacred Thread such as 
 
 this, if you can: 
 
 My Sacred Thread shall break not, nor shall ever be soiled. 
 Fires can burn it not, nor waters sink it down! 
 Blessed are they who wear my Sacred Thread. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM HYMNS OF 
 GURU GRANTHA SAHIB 
 
 SRI RAG MAHLA V. (Guru Arjan Dev) 
 
 I 
 
 THE SWEETEST 
 
 (O 
 
 BY self-surrender, He is now mine. 
 I have met the Man, the true Master! 
 I know of none else so great ! 
 He is now mine! 
 
 The Sweetest!
 
 140 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 <*) 
 
 He is Fascination, 
 
 Dearer than my own father and mother to me, 
 
 I know of no affection (nor sister's, nor brother's, nor 
 
 friend's) so intense, ever growing. 
 He is now mine! 
 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (3) 
 
 At His bidding, it raineth here; 
 
 It raineth on the fields of life! 
 
 It raineth on the fields below! 
 
 My hand is on the plough (the Truth), the seeds are in 
 
 my hands : 
 
 The seeds of Nam I sow; 
 My eyes are raised and look above; then look they down 
 
 and I sow. 
 
 The crops grow, the crops grow! 
 He is now mine! 
 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (4) 
 I have seen Him now, 
 
 I see no one else, 
 
 I have known Him now, 
 
 I know no one else, 
 
 This is my sweet vocation, 
 
 Be it now as He wills, 
 
 The Sweetest!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 141 
 
 (5) 
 
 I don the Royal Robes; 
 The Five now till my lands, 
 No more treason stirs in my soil, 
 All is Peace, Plenty and Prosperity ! 
 No winds blow against me, all is in fair direction, 
 He is now mine ! 
 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (6) 
 If I could sacrifice, in a minute I would live and die a 
 
 thousand times for Him, and do this for ever; 
 O Gods! sacrifice me at His feet endlessly. 
 It is He who has decorated the ruins; the ruins of me, 
 now raised high, they become my Sultan's 
 palace. 
 
 Sacrifice me at His feet endlessly, 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (7) 
 
 He loves me, I do nothing : 
 He sends me all I wish, I do nothing: 
 He cares for me and mine, I do nothing: 
 He gives me the loaf of bread that is enough for all my 
 hunger, I do nothing for Him, 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (8) 
 
 Nothing concerns me now, neither care nor confusion, 
 If He be my concern! 
 The Naming Him is all! 
 The Sweetest!
 
 H2 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 (9) 
 
 I have tied His love in the knots of my garment, 
 I have fastened them with my own hands, 
 I am happy now, all Peace is mine! 
 Planted by His own Hands, the garden of Nam grows 
 in me, its blossoms fill me up to my very lips; 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (10) 
 
 He but put His hand on my forehead, 
 And I saw that all was Divine ! 
 I was bound in a vision ! 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 I am now in the Temple of Truth, 
 
 The Master chose me, I know not how ! 
 
 I would fain wash His feet if He come! 
 
 I would fain fan Him with these hands if He come! 
 
 I would fain fall at His feet and kiss them ! 
 
 At His feet again and again! 
 
 If He come! 
 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (12) 
 
 I have known it all from His lips, 
 He gave me Himself and bathed me in holiness, 
 He put me in His Boat: 
 The Boat sails to the Infinite! we sail on! 
 The Sweetest !
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 143 
 
 The whole Creation vibrates with prayer ! 
 Hark ! The prayers rise from very stones ! 
 They call the Deliverer! 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (14) 
 
 The Kind One now so willeth, 
 A new age beginneth! 
 Henceforth no one will injure another! 
 All shall live here in Peace Absolute. 
 He reigneth here, the King of Love! 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (15) 
 
 Jhin! Jhin! Jbin ! it raineth! 
 Jhin ! Jhin ! Jhin ! the showers of Peace! 
 Silence delicious ! mouths all filled with Honey ! 
 They speak who speak at His bidding, 
 Endless has been my pride, the pride of being His, 
 I have moved in a thousand prides, I have thought, 
 all this is His, 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (16) 
 
 The Saints hunger for Him, no other hunger they have! 
 O Giver of joy! come! 
 
 Fulfil my longings now, come and meet me!! 
 Now spread Thy arms and receive me, 
 Receive me, my Love, in Thy embrace, 
 The Sweetest !
 
 144 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 (17) 
 
 I looked up and down all earth and heaven, 
 I saw nothing so noble, 
 All space is filled with His Glory! 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (18) 
 
 I am the champion-wrestler, 
 
 He maintains me, 
 
 With Him, as His, I am the greatest of the Great. 
 
 The ring is drawn clear, the wrestlers come, the audience 
 
 sits around, 
 The sport begins. 
 He sits and sees ! 
 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (19) 
 
 The bands strike, the pipes play! 
 The wrestlers strive; how they recede and how pace 
 
 forward, and how they weave with steps the 
 
 semicircles ! 
 I have thrown them down, and there they lie, the five 
 
 young wrestlers ! 
 I hastened to Him, 
 He patted me on my back! 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (20) 
 
 The guests are scattered one by one, they go each their 
 own way,
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 145 
 
 Both death and life is the wrestling-ring, one for them 
 who saw Htm not, the other for those who saw 
 Him! 
 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 The lines of flesh contain Him not, 
 The Transcendental Good! 
 I see Him where I would, 
 He sweetens the lotus of Heart with Honey. 
 He inspires me with His breath. 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 (22) 
 
 Life on life did roll for this ! 
 
 He has cut my bonds, the strings that bound me! 
 
 Sweeter the slumber, and sweeter the awakening! 
 
 The dawn of freedom breaks ! 
 
 Say Guru Nanak! 
 
 The Sweetest! 
 
 DHANASRI MAHLA V., ASHTPADI 
 II 
 
 THE Wheel of Birth and Death turns! 
 
 All creation whirls along it in utter confusion, 
 
 Ah ! happy am I being born a man !
 
 146 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 dear Saint! put Thy hand on me and save me, save 
 
 me from the utter misery of this endless wheel. 
 By Thy Love, kindle in me the Divine. 
 
 1 have travelled through many births and deaths, 
 
 and have not felt yet any ground beneath my 
 
 feet. 
 
 Give me Thy service to do, 
 Let me sit at Thy feet, 
 O Saint! through Thy life show me the way to my 
 
 Gobind, my Beloved. 
 
 I linger still, among material things, 
 
 J make a thousand efforts, but pass my days still 
 
 dwelling here, 
 Ah! how to get rid of this insatiable sense ? 
 
 Gods ! a meeting with the Saint, pray ! 
 
 He will wash me free of this misery and incarnadine 
 my soul with the Bride-blushes, as the Bride 
 meets her Lord. 
 
 Oh ! the showers of roses that his look would rain on me ! ! 
 
 (3) 
 
 1 have read all the Vedas, but the dual sense is still 
 
 unextinguished, my doubts are still undispelled. 
 The five desires that live within know not for a moment 
 
 any peace. 
 If He were to sprinkle the Nectar of Nam on my scorched 
 
 heart, the dry ground would become green, 
 Ah! the Saint I should become, freed from Illusion, 
 
 if He so favoured me.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 147 
 
 (4) 
 
 I have bathed in sacred rivers, 
 
 But more and more clung to me the rust of Self; 
 
 This tyrant bows not even to holy pilgrimage! 
 
 When shall my Saint come to me ? 
 
 When shall that cooling Peace be mine, 
 
 And my Saint wash my soul in fire of Divine Knowledge ? 
 
 Ah ! when ? 
 
 (5) 
 
 I have tried all modes of thought; 
 
 My mind yet believes not, my reason sees not, 
 
 I have been washing pure the outside; but all was dark 
 
 within, 
 The darkness may be pure, washed and holy; but by 
 
 that it cannot win the dawn, 
 Only if I found a man! as good as God, a man all dyed 
 
 in Divine Glory. 
 He shall wash transparent my dust-laden mind. 
 
 (6) 
 
 If I see Him not, in vain is even virtue, in vain is 
 
 learning: 
 Only if I meet my Lord, the soul wakes to the eternal 
 
 music of His Praise ! 
 Through the dear Master's kindness, I see the Real face 
 
 to face! 
 
 (7) 
 
 What worth are the forced resolutions, the ascetic vows 
 of Piety, to curb Self down, just under a weight !
 
 148 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Not a seed of this hot-house growth is to be reckoned, 
 All is still in the dark ! 
 The light of Heaven is far away! 
 
 All that follow the Self are groping in the dark, still in 
 the great world-illusion! 
 
 (8) 
 
 If indeed there be a Bestower of Divine Bliss ! 
 He shall inspire in us with his lips the Divine Life ! 
 Then the light of Heaven shall shine ! 
 
 The day breaks ! and all is glory ! 
 
 Man is bathed in His Light, it is Beatitude: 
 
 This life kindles another life. 
 
 It is He who cuts the bonds of life-in-illusion, 
 
 And sets the soul revolving through the firmament of 
 
 Nam, 
 
 There is eternal Peace! 
 The fearlessness of the Divine is attained. 
 The life of Peace Eternal throbs in the feet of the Saint ! 
 I have now met my Saint ! 
 The pilgrimage of life is fruitful ! 
 All is over ! The goal is reached ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 (i) 
 
 He has chosen to honour His slave! 
 It is His Pleasure. He favours me! 
 What are our little wisdoms, and our little powers ?
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 149 
 
 He knows all things, He knows ! 
 
 His Glory spreads around us, an infinite expanse!! 
 
 All call on Him ! ! 
 
 He put His hands on me and I am saved!! 
 
 He waited not, nor did He think of my good and bad, 
 
 He has chosen to honour His slave. 
 
 (2) 
 
 He protects me in His Embrace, lest a hot wind touch 
 
 me. 
 How my flesh cried for this and how my soul rolled in 
 
 frenzy ! ! 
 
 God is, for I am now in His Embrace! 
 He is the King of Kings, the Master of Masters!! 
 I live by Naming Him\ 
 He has chosen to honour His slave. 
 
 JAI JAVANTI MAHLA V 
 IV 
 
 (0 
 EVEN if I have vexed Thee, bend on me Thy Look of 
 
 favour! 
 
 Perished be it if I look to another. 
 Let me leave not hold of the edge of Thy Garment; 
 Pray I may always have the sense of dependence on 
 
 Thy Favour. 
 Ever Glorious! my Gem! my Beloved, my Sustainer, 
 
 my All! 
 
 N
 
 150 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Oh! how shall I call Thee! 
 
 Thou art my Friend, my Companion, my Saviour, my 
 
 Love, I cannot name Thee. 
 When Thou art by me, I am rich, my joy and pride 
 
 know no bounds; 
 By coming to me, Thou honourest me, me O Lord! 
 
 the poorest. 
 
 (2) 
 
 To-day Thou art with me ! 
 
 And how Thou smilest, the smile of forgiving kindness, 
 Thou smilest on me, me, the poorest ! 
 
 O happy one! if I then have Thy favour, so favour me 
 that I see none else but Thee, depend on none 
 else but Thee. 
 
 Pour into these these opened lips this Honey! 
 Pray that I may keep it for ever in my heart!! 
 
 Beneath Thy sheltering arms, pray that my quivering 
 lips may close in a holy kiss upon Thy Flower- 
 Feet! May I stay, holding the edge of Thy 
 garment, O King, for ever and ever! 
 
 (3) 
 
 These feet of mine, pray, they tread Thy path of Love 
 
 for ever and ever. 
 These eyes of mine, pray, they look at Thee for ever and 
 
 ever. 
 Favour me so that these ears of mine hear but Thy 
 
 Praise Eternal. 
 
 (4) 
 Myriad is beauty, but nothing can match a single Hair 
 
 of my Beloved!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 151 
 
 Thou art the Maker of all, the Beautiful Master!! 
 Ah! who can speak of Thy Beauty; beyond all paintings 
 of thought and feelings. 
 
 (5) 
 
 For a moment, only for a moment, Thou art with me 
 to-day. 
 
 I know Thou hast devotees by millions and all are fairer 
 than myself, all are more innocent, more beautiful, 
 more loving and sweeter, but to-day Thou art 
 mine, though only for a moment, only for a 
 moment. 
 
 Before Thou departest, look once again on me, just for 
 a moment and just for a moment. 
 
 Be before my eyes and let me look at Thee and let my 
 eyes drink the kind Glance of Thine; just for a 
 moment, my Beloved ! for a moment ! 
 
 Be with me and let me be with you! Sustain, sustain 
 my frail life and hold me up in Thy arms lest I 
 faint and fall, and let this be for a moment, my 
 Beloved ! for a moment ! 
 
 (6) 
 
 Him at whose very sight my throbbing heart is at rest 
 and my noon-scorched mind finds a shade! 
 
 mother! how can I forget Him of whom everything 
 
 here reminds me. 
 
 1 did but fall on the ground, before Him, 
 I fell like a corpse, a love-slain one. 
 
 Of Himself He came and lifted me from the dust. I had 
 no adornment but dust in my hair, dust on my 
 hands and feet !
 
 152 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 A dusty beggar-maiden, He made His own; 
 
 Such has been the fruit of the true Love planted in my 
 
 heart by my Saint. 
 My Saint has witnessed my wedding-day! 
 
 (SORATH BANI BHAGATAN, KABEER) 
 
 (NAMA had a hut. The hut was burnt by accident. 
 God came with His masons and put up a new hut for 
 Nama. People knew Nama as a common poor man 
 while he was a prophet. To this incident the following 
 dialogue refers.) 
 
 The neighbour's wife : 
 
 Nama! How beautiful is the new thatching of thy hut! 
 Please tell me who has covered thee with this wonderful 
 
 thatching of golden straws. 
 I would offer him double the wages you have offered. 
 
 I too want a thatching like that, so handsome! 
 
 Nama : 
 
 sweet woman ! 
 
 1 cannot tell thee who made this hut for me, nor can I 
 
 bring Him to thee! 
 Seest thou not the maker of this roof is here, there, and 
 
 everywhere ? 
 
 This mason needs no wages, He works for Love. 
 Be His, He will build thy hut! 
 Be His and no one else's.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 153 
 
 MAJH MAHLA V 
 VI 
 
 THAT season is spring when they are with Thee, 
 
 That doing is doing when they sweat in labour for Thy 
 
 Love ; 
 That heart is heart w r here shineth the Light of Thy 
 
 Presence, 
 
 Thou art the common Father of us all, 
 In Thy storehouse there is plenty for us all, 
 He who owns the jewel of Love given by Thee is great, 
 All sit at Thy door and wait for Thy Gifts. 
 
 (2) 
 
 Thy life beats in every heart and each one holds by Thee 
 as if Thou wert his and none else's. 
 
 This is Thy great family, here each one has his share and 
 each one his joy. 
 
 (3) 
 
 All mysterious is Thy life-play; here is the Saint and 
 His art of sending blossoms up in the sky sup- 
 ported on the thin frail rays of life, 
 
 And there is the wheel of birth and death that turns. 
 
 The same pulse beats in all seen things.
 
 154 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 GAURI MAHLA V 
 VII 
 
 (0 
 
 MY mother! how can I aspire to see my Beloved ? 
 How can I approach Him who gives me life, 
 
 Nor beauty, nor wisdom nor power! 
 
 1 am a poor beggar girl, a stranger come from afar, 
 
 thread-bare my garments ! 
 
 Nor youth, nor pride, nor glow of life, how can I aspire 
 to see Him ? 
 
 Even I, I have been wandering for Him, I have no other 
 concern in life, I only wish I could but have a 
 glimpse of Him, even I, with my hair dis- 
 hevelled, my garments outworn, and myself 
 almost naked in poverty, even I search for Him. 
 
 I am thirsty and no waters quench my thirst, I am 
 hungry and no bread can appease my hunger, 
 
 But, my mother! how can I aspire for Him, so poor, so 
 frail and so humble ? 
 
 (2) 
 
 Happy, happy news! Mother! the news from the 
 
 invisible!! 
 
 In Love of the Saint I have found Him. 
 My thirst is quenched, I now live at the Fountain, 
 I now live at the Fountain, mother!
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 155 
 
 KANRA MAHLA II. (Guru Angad Dev) 
 VIII 
 
 (I) 
 
 How can I praise Thee who has given me life. 
 
 Thou hast bought me with Thy Love and Kindness, 
 bought me a slave, but not by gold, hast bought 
 me a slave, flesh and bone, Thine for ever. 
 
 Thou hast drawn me to Thee, O Roseate Beloved ! 
 
 I am a sacrifice in Thy Glorious Sight ever and ever, 
 
 Thou art the King and I Thy humble slave, 
 
 Thou art kind for ever and ever. 
 
 How can I regale Thee, Thou Regaler ? 
 
 How can I, I, render any service to Thee ? Thou servest 
 
 all! 
 How can I, I, have a glimpse of Thee ? Thou seest all ! 
 
 Immeasurable ! I thirst for the Lotus of Thy feet, 
 
 1 ask again and again so shamelessly! touch my lips 
 
 with the dust of the flower-feet of Thy Saint. 
 
 SARANG MAHLA V 
 IX 
 
 W 
 
 O mother! how can I live without my Beloved. 
 When He goes away I cannot live in this empty house 
 of clay.
 
 156 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Without Him, what is life, what is joy, what is land, 
 
 house or cities ? 
 O mother ! how can I live without my Beloved ? 
 
 O Saints of God! favour me now, and help me to sing 
 
 His auspicious arrival! 
 O Saints! put your holy feet on me, put the pollen of 
 
 your flower-hearts into my eyes; 0, pray that 
 
 I may see the Divine. 
 
 (3) 
 
 Woe be to us if we sacrifice not ourselves in the service 
 of those who unite us with our Beloved. 
 
 GAURI BAIRAGAN MAHLA IV. (Guru Ram Das) 
 X 
 
 (0 
 EVERY day I rise with the same hope, every day I have 
 
 the same thirst, every day I have the same 
 
 longing; to be with my Beloved. 
 They who have these Love-wounds understand my 
 
 days pierced with Pain of Love. 
 Oh! I love Him! 
 
 (2) 
 
 Great is my Master, at whose feet I lie as a sacrifice, 
 It is He who has united me with my Creator after such 
 
 a long time of separation.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 157 
 
 my Beloved ! I a sinner take refuge in Thee, I fall at 
 
 Thy door; now favour me. 
 
 (3) 
 
 1 cannot count, numberless are my shortcomings, 
 
 But what of these little reckonings, when Thou art so 
 
 kind ? 
 Forgive me and favour me now. 
 
 (4) 
 
 Not as a Saint but as a criminal I stand at Thy door, 
 Pray! save me in the company of Thy Saints. 
 Give me the gift of Naming Thee. 
 
 (5) 
 
 my true Lord! 
 How can I praise Thee! 
 
 As I ope my lips and say " Glory to God," the whole of 
 
 me is lost in wonder. 
 Could there be another so kind as my Guru and could 
 
 there be another so fallen as myself ? 
 Ah! how has He rescued me! 
 
 (6) 
 
 My Master is all for me, 
 
 1 pour at His feet my affections affections of a son to 
 
 a mother, affections of a friend to a friend, 
 affections of a sweetheart to her lover, 
 At His feet !
 
 158 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 (7) 
 Had I not met my Master, miserable was my lot; He 
 
 knew it and He took pity, 
 I was a beggar, a forlorn wanderer of streets, trodden 
 
 under many a pair of feet, none inquiring of me, 
 
 nor of my misery. 
 The Master picks up a worm like me, and transmutes 
 
 it into the King of things, 
 Great is Guru Nanak, the Saviour, 
 I met Him and all distress is over. 
 
 XI 
 
 (0 
 The life in me gets attracted by the glitter of gold and 
 
 flesh-attractions of man-life. 
 I am attached to my horses; I am concerned for my 
 
 prosperity; I find joy in all those things that are 
 
 mine. 
 If I love not my Divine Husband, what am I and what 
 
 are these things ? 
 
 Without Him I cannot have my freedom, my God!! 
 Such are my base inclinations, such are my vain pur- 
 suits, being Thine, I fail to be. 
 
 Thou art kind, forgive me all my misdeeds and strayings. 
 I have no beauty, nor long descent to boast of, nor 
 
 culture, nor art, 
 I bear no blossom of Nam in my hands, ah! I have 
 
 not even loved Thee, O God ! ! 
 With no accomplishment then, with what face can I 
 
 approach Thee or aspire after Thee ?
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 159 
 
 (2) 
 
 But my Guru has chosen me, 
 
 And ushered me into Thy Divine Presence, 
 
 I come to know Thou hast given me my all, body and 
 
 soul, Thy waters I drink, it is Thy meat I eat, 
 
 and Thou weavest me the garments I wear; 
 
 above all, Thou givest the joys of life and the 
 
 higher sense of joy. 
 I know now, he is a beast who does not remember his 
 
 Maker. 
 
 (3) 
 Thou art the All-Knower, Thou penetratest the inmost 
 
 of every heart. 
 What we Thy creatures do or propose, it is all Thy 
 
 doing. 
 
 What Thou sayest cometh to pass. 
 
 Guru Nanak has opened a store, He distributes Thy Nam. 
 The price ? 
 
 Life, the whole of it ! ! 
 Say Guru Nanak, the Sweetest!! 
 
 SARANG MAHLA V. CHANT 
 XII 
 
 CO 
 
 O SAINTS! tell me how does my Beloved look? 
 Give me an idea of His Beauty! 
 
 Take me and all that is mine, but pray, give me the 
 news from high!
 
 160 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 Give me the news from high, O! how my Beloved looks ! 
 How does he come, and when ? 
 
 (2) 
 
 Sweet are the steps with which He enters my house, 
 Each hair of mine is nectar-laved in ecstasy, there is 
 
 the ambrosial flow through bone, blood and 
 
 flesh! 
 
 He is the Infinite, the Divine Person. 
 He is the sweet, sweet death, He lives in every heart ! 
 Ah! how can I tell thee how He looketh, how can I 
 
 give thee His likeness ? 
 The news-bearer is lost in His all-enchanting vision and 
 
 has no self to return to say how He looketh! 
 Maiden! how can I give thee His likeness!
 
 READINGS FROM " SLOKAS "
 
 READINGS FROM " SLOKAS " 
 (GURU TEG BAHADUR) 
 
 I 
 
 LIFE has passed in vain, 
 
 Unfilled with the song of His praise, the heart is run all 
 
 dry!! 
 O me ! To be as fish without water in thy love and thy 
 
 longing for thy Lord, thy God. 
 
 II 
 
 Is not life a serious thing ? 
 
 Is not death there ? 
 
 No other way of escape, but love. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Youth has gone, 
 
 Old age makes the traveller infirm; 
 
 Life is passing! 
 
 O me! Love is not yet in sight! 
 
 IV 
 
 Old age! 
 
 Dimmed are all senses, 
 Death is at the door, 
 
 The man is still mad, busy about nothing. 
 
 163
 
 164 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 He is He who gave thee all this, 
 
 This beautiful garment for thy soul; 
 
 This fair plenty and prosperity; 
 
 Ah! thou hast never thought of Him since, 
 
 Now is it not all death and ruin ? 
 
 Too late perhaps ! 
 
 VI 
 
 His Nam is thy beatitude. 
 
 Awake then! for the Time is fleeting. 
 
 VII 
 
 The Beloved is in every heart that beats : 
 So have the Saints proclaimed; 
 Surrender then. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Whom joy elates not, nor sorrow depresses, 
 
 Whom the pride uplifts not, in whom resides not the 
 
 sense of owning aught, 
 He is God in flesh. 
 
 IX 
 
 Who fears none, nor in others inspires fear, 
 He knows. 
 
 X 
 
 He is lucky, 
 
 Who dons the Robe of Self-Denial.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 165 
 
 XI 
 
 When meum and tuum is gone, 
 The Divine is in the heart. 
 
 XII 
 
 He who has seen it is He who does 
 And seeing, has lost his " I "; 
 He is free. 
 
 XIII 
 
 The deliverer from pain, 
 The lifter of veils, 
 In Kaliyuga x is Nam, 
 All winnings are here. 
 
 XIV 
 
 It is a dream, 
 
 Know nothing else is real but one He. 
 
 XV 
 
 Mortals are tossed on the waves of the sea of struggle, 
 
 all for greed of lust and things, 
 Perhaps one in a million thinks of Him. 
 
 XVI 
 
 They make great efforts for advancement in this world, 
 But life is barren without His Love. 
 
 1 This iron age : this black age. (Teg Bahadur was martyred.) 
 O
 
 1 66 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 XVII 
 
 He who is His, is His day and night. 
 
 Know Him aye! even as He, 
 
 For nothing divides Him from His. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 To be my Master's, 
 
 And as faithful as the dog is to his own. 
 
 XIX 
 
 All shall die! 
 
 That which cometh must go to-day or to-morrow, 
 Up then! on these shifting ruins, raise aloft the song 
 of His Praise.
 
 READINGS FROM " CHANTS "
 
 READINGS FROM " CHANTS " 
 BY GURU RAM DAS MAHLA IV 
 
 I 
 
 (i) 
 
 I AM bathed by Hari Nam, 
 The nectar streams through my eyes, 
 My mind melts away! 
 AJ1 is Love. 
 My King of Heaven! 
 
 On the touchstone of Heaven He rubbed me, 
 There was the Streak of Pure Gold ! 
 My mind and flesh are dyed in the ruby-dye of the Lips 
 
 of my Beloved! 
 How good is life! How good! 
 
 (2) 
 
 Who shoots at me ? 
 
 Ah! These arrows steel-tipped with keen, keen edges! 
 
 My heart lies wounded, arrow-pierced! 
 
 Ah! These are the words from the lips of my Beloved, 
 
 My King of Heaven ! 
 
 Of this beautiful death in Love, he knows who loves. 
 
 (3) 
 
 I sought His shelter, 
 He gave me life. 
 My King of Heaven ! 
 
 169
 
 1 70 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 By my dear Master, my Holy One, I found my God. 
 
 To love Him is all my craving now. 
 
 My mind, aye, my flesh has blossomed up in thousand- 
 tinted flowers ! 
 
 A sea of blossoms surges in me! 
 
 By the love of the Saint, the love of God has now been 
 mine. 
 
 (4) 
 
 O King of the Kingdom of Heaven ! O Great Benefactor ! 
 
 Pray, let me take refuge in Thy Naml 
 
 Pour into my opened lips this Honey! 
 
 Thou hast covered my shame; 
 
 Great is Thy Vow of Love ! 
 
 My Saviour! 
 
 II 
 
 (0 
 
 After long, long, weary tossing, 
 
 I have found Him now, My King of Heaven! 
 
 In the Fort of Gold, in Life, is He. 
 
 1 bear His diamond-cuts in me. 
 
 My Man of Heaven ! 
 
 How brimful am I of sweet, sweet joy! 
 
 He is Goodness, Superb, Supreme. 
 
 (2) 
 
 I stand for ever on the roadside, waiting! 
 Yet unblossomed, my maiden youth waits for Him on 
 the roadside.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 171 
 
 My Holy One put me on the Road to Love; 
 
 And I go on Naming Him \ 
 
 My Holy One has burnt up the poison of Self. 
 
 My Holy One put me here on the Road to Love; 
 
 And I go on Naming Him \ 
 
 My meat and drink is Naming Html 
 
 And I go for ever on the Road to Love. 
 
 I stand for ever on the roadside, waiting. 
 
 Still unblossomed, my maiden youth waits for Him, 
 
 My King of Heaven, come! 
 
 (3) 
 
 For long have I been now away from Thee, 
 
 Now come and meet me, my Beloved ! 
 
 Come! My King of Heaven! Come! 
 
 Unbearable any longer is this pain of separation; 
 
 My flesh cries and flames up my heart, 
 
 My eyes stream with tears ; 
 
 Unbearable any longer is this pain of separation; 
 
 These love-tremors shake my soul with the music of 
 
 sweetness. 
 Now come and meet me, my Beloved!
 
 READINGS FROM " SLOKAS
 
 READINGS FROM " SLOKAS " 
 BY BHEGET KABIR JI 
 
 I 
 
 THE Death, The Death, 
 All are afraid of Death: 
 I am right happy, this is the way to the Beloved! 
 
 II 
 
 Have you got the Divine Wealth? 
 
 Be silent, ope not the mouth of thy purse: 
 
 No mart here for this, no critic, no buyer, no price : 
 
 In silence pass away, Man of God! 
 
 Ill 
 
 Give them thy love, who are of thy own ilk, 
 
 Of what worth are these Pundits, Kings and Lords ? 
 
 IV 
 
 They die and die again, but know not how to die? 
 Why not die that death once, that they may not die 
 again. 
 
 V 
 
 Fast as grass, hair burns. 
 And flesh and bone as fast as wood; 
 The thought seizes me, the World might burn as fast. 
 
 175
 
 176 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 VI 
 
 Laugh not at any one; 
 Be not proud even of goodness : 
 Thy boat is yet on the sea, 
 Who knows what may happen ? 
 
 VII 
 
 I did nothing, nor shall I do anything, nor ever can I; 
 
 I know not what my God did for me: 
 
 My fame spreads far and wide. 
 
 The world-lips pipe " Kabir .' " " Kabir ! " l 
 
 VIII 
 
 I am His Dog, 
 My Name is Mutia, 2 
 
 The collar is here and the string in His Hand, 
 I go whither he takes me ! 
 
 IX 
 
 " The stroke of Death is painful, 
 I cannot bear it," so I cried! 
 
 A Saint came near me, he wrapped me up away in his 
 garments. 
 
 X 
 
 What can I do, if He helpeth me not, 
 Whichever branch of the Tree I touch, it breaks and 
 falls off. 
 
 1 His own name. * A pearl.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 177 
 
 XI 
 
 Let the wealth go, if it will, 
 
 Let the life go, if it will, 
 
 But leave not the Beloved, 
 
 Let not go the holds of Love, 
 
 Let me be wrapped in the lotus-corolla of His Feet. 
 
 XII 
 
 The V\nd\ All its strings are broken! 
 Poor Final Rest for ever! 
 Even the Player has gone! 
 
 XIII 
 
 O SbankhA \ l Be with thy Mother-sea ! 
 Or else, at every break of dawn, 
 Thou shalt be a scream, a wandering wail 
 From door to door of every shrine! 
 
 XIV 
 
 Go the way the Saint is going; 
 There is good in it. 
 Mere seeing him is Purity; 
 His closer contact is Nam. 
 
 1 The Conchshell that is blown in the Hindu temples every 
 morning.
 
 178 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 
 
 XV 
 
 Go not near a Sakta, a man broken off from the Life 
 
 Divine, 
 For the mere touch of soot blackens. 
 
 XVI 
 
 I am the perfume now, I am the Flower, 
 The bees come round me in number. 
 Strange! but it is true; the more they love Kabir, 
 the greater grows their affection for God. 
 
 XVII 
 
 Be as a pebble on the roadside, 
 
 But even a pebble kills a bird. 
 
 Not a pebble then, O Man of God ! 
 
 Be as the dust on earth, 
 
 But even the dust annoys, it flies. 
 
 Not the dust then, O Man of God ! 
 
 Be as water, all flowing, one level, 
 
 But even the water has its temperatures. 
 
 Not as water then! 
 
 Unlike anything else, be as God, O Man of God! 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Where is reality, there is right, 
 Where is shadow, there is wrong, 
 Where is lust, there is death, 
 Where is forgiveness, there is God.
 
 SISTERS OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 179 
 
 XIX 
 
 That is the path of Learning! 
 
 The crowds follow the Pundit ! 
 
 My path is different, it runs up to these heights! 
 
 I am on the Hill named God ! 
 
 J_rCKVORTH
 
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