Closing the chapter on 2024
It is Gurupurabh, you know i have no idea how to spell this in english. And honestly, i do not call any of the gurus, gurus. I just use their last name. but on the off chance that my dad reads this, i will use his vocabulary.
Today is the birthday of Guru Nanak. I personally feel a great kinship to him. out of all the Gurus, i think i would have gotten along with Guru Nanak the most. I only really know two main ones. First and last. The last one is Guru Gobind who is more like a warrior king type. I prepared for this but im more nanak than gobind. Gobind was hard core. I tried it, its not my style. I like the OG more.
The great thing about sikhism is that it is not a religion. There is nothing at all about sikhism that is organized. and i think that is the most hilarious thing about the religion. this is so well known that during the peak of the oppression of scheduled caste people in india, BR Ambadker asked if they could adopt the last name Singh to escape persecution. i feel honored to be from a culture whose last name alone gave millions the opportunity to be themselves. and i regret deeply ur names were lost to history. i wish it was the other way.
I wish to respect Ambadker appropriately, however he reminds me of some new friends I have made who are indigenous. I regret that i do not think i have earned the knowledge to respect them appropriately yet. Anything i say now comes from a place of ignorance. I do not know what it was like for the lower casts in india when they were not allowed to apply for jobs. The last time i was in india i was introduced to someone and i proudly extended my hand to shake theirs.
They refused. it is my hope that one day someone from that caste extends theirs first knowing they have no reason to be disrespected. on the contrary i hope they look at me with defiance, proud extended their hand daring me to shake it. for it was guru nanak who taught me ur hand is my hand. and my hand is urs.
enough with the formalities. let me speak of my friend as i do often at home in my thoughts.
nanak is a child, not unlike a trouble making one i knew back when she read his story. a child in an english medium school who had this thing called privilege. i was canadian and that got me out of alot of messes. in addition — i was the right kind of mischievous. my teachers and the principal never did have the heart to punish me. what i committed in school crime, i earned freedom in their amusement.
nanak goes to school as a young child learning gibberish in sanskrit. a dead language then because the brahmins, like my math teachers, would not explain it. so he begins to ask questions of theology. he begins to point out eccentricities in their own logic. a curious mind is a culprit in many a crime.
bemused people began to come to nanak and forgo the sanskrit brahmins of our shared HINDU religion. the age was of islamic sufis. and love was in the air. ask a farmer what it takes to love, how they tend to the farm, they care for the earth. so ya, we sing songs of harvest and protect the earth with our lives. she is our mother, in her service may we all one day die.
unknown to nanak as a child, his mischief would be the mischief of the hour. those of us denied the language of sansrkit, we ruffians who spoke farsi or punjabi or any mix of dialect not civilized enough to write, we loved his lovely song. the sufis sang and nanak spoke and the rest of them were enamored. for if he could teach we could learn, all we will ever be is a sikh. someone in love with knowledge, born to learn. erasing themselves in the magnitude of the world. becoming ever smaller the larger the world grew.
learning that we are nothing. earning our insignificance. what ego can you have when u know how little u know of this magnificent world.
confused with his own odd notoriety he set off to see if there were others who spoke as he did. he found friends in every shade. found love in every season.
i often imagine christ to be like him. learning and growing and not knowing how large he had become. the gentlest drop in the ocean of param-atma. he sang the right song and it grew as they all echoed behind him.
who nanak is was never of relevance. there is no reason to make pilgrimage to his gurudwara. u make pilgrimage to Maharaja Guru Gobind who deserved the hour for sacrificing 5 of his sons for the hindus who were being persecuted while he was king. his gurudwaras are mausoleums.
nanaks real gurudwara is a manja.
he sat on top and to hear him we sat on the floor. as we do in the temple still. they came hungry so we feed them. as we do still.
not knowing what he was saying, not knowing its relevance at all, his young student, friend, confidant, began to write his words down. unknown to him, Nanak was made a guru by Guru Angad Dev Ji. to whom nanak was happy to bestow the GurGaddi after his peaceful death.
i am sure he made trouble where-ever he is now. most likely having a belly laugh with Jesus about the stupidity of man.
Nanak to Christ
I made up my own religions. it seemed fitting to me that Nanaks birth should begin the happy season.
i live in north america. and while canadians never invited me to christmas they were always so happy then. they were extra nice. they decorate their houses and stores. they keep minty candy cane for you. old cute aunties give u fudge.
so who cares about the rest of it?
i will spend the rest of November contemplating the best most hilarious way to create a sustainable Christmas tree. to decorate it as cutely as i can without buying anything. to find a gift i make for each of my family.
i refuse to chose religions.
u can hate me, i just dont have that kind of time on earth. i came this time, i hope it was a meandering detour. im just going to take all the good things and make pretty memories. puffy snow is for Christmas. sorry i dont know how to do it right. ive got a long way to learn.
when you are born to people who only have known hate and war, all u want to do is make peace.
to let us begin until Dec 26- when i must mourn, that sometimes as Guru Gobind learned, to make peace you must accept the damage of war. he took 5 pyare. for he gave 5 children. until then-
Deck the hall with boughs of holly,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
’Tis the season to be jolly:
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
ps. diwali is a big deal also. we love the lamps. but if they hate us there now we will celebrate diwali in secret only. sorry we made a mess. u never said what made us bad. all i know is india does not like anyone but hindus right now. someone invite me for ramadan!! i also love mohamad. eid ki biryani to do!! jang baad mein nahi ho sakti?
