A Tongue That Praises, A Heart That Surrenders

Dear Guru Arjan Dev Ji,

Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa, Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh.

Today, I did not come to read your shabad.

I came hoping your shabad would read me.

I have passed these lines countless times in my life. I have recited them. I have listened to them in kirtan. I have bowed my head before them.

But today...

Today, I stopped.

Today, I wondered what you saw when these words flowed from your heart. I wondered what kind of human being you hoped I would become when you wrote them over four hundred years ago.

You began with words that seemed so ordinary.

ਬੋਲਹੁ ਜਸੁ ਜਿਹਬਾ ਦਿਨੁ ਰਾਤਿ ॥

Speak His praises with your tongue, day and night.

Guru Ji, I always thought you were simply asking me to speak about Waheguru.

But today I realized...

You were asking me to look at my tongue.

This same tongue that speaks harshly to the people I love.

The same tongue that sometimes chooses pride over humility.

The same tongue that becomes impatient.

The same tongue that has apologized too late.

How can this tongue praise Waheguru in the morning and wound someone's heart in the afternoon?

Perhaps praising Waheguru is not only what I say during Nitnem.

Perhaps praising Waheguru is how I speak to His creation.

Perhaps every gentle word...

Every encouragement...

Every forgiveness...

Every "I'm sorry"...

Every "How can I help?"...

Is also Gurbani being lived.

I had never seen it that way before.

Then you quietly changed everything.

ਪ੍ਰਭਿ ਅਪਨੈ ਜਨ ਕੀਨੇ ਦਾਤਿ ॥

God Himself has given this gift to His servants.

Guru Ji...

How many times have I secretly believed that I was becoming spiritual because I was trying harder?

That somehow I deserved those peaceful moments during Simran.

That somehow I earned the tears that sometimes come while listening to kirtan.

But you lovingly took that pride away.

Even the desire to remember Waheguru...

Is His gift.

Even the longing to open Gurbani...

Is His gift.

Even the feeling that brings me back after I wander...

Is His gift.

Nothing belongs to me.

Not even my desire to seek Him.

Suddenly my prayer changed.

Instead of saying,

"Look how much I am remembering You,"

my heart whispered,

"Thank You for not forgetting me."

Then you wrote something that pierced my heart.

ਕਰਹਿ ਭਗਤਿ ਆਤਮ ਕੈ ਚਾਇ ॥

They worship with the love of their soul.

Guru Ji...

I began asking myself a question that made me uncomfortable.

Do I remember Waheguru because I love Him...

Or because I fear forgetting Him?

Do I read Gurbani because my soul longs for Him...

Or because I am simply completing another daily routine?

Love and habit can look very similar from the outside.

But You know the difference.

You always know the difference.

Teach me how to love Him.

Not because I should.

But because one day I cannot imagine breathing without remembering Him.

Then came the line that would not let me continue reading.

I stopped.

I closed my eyes.

I read it again.

ਪ੍ਰਭ ਅਪਨੇ ਸਿਉ ਰਹਹਿ ਸਮਾਇ ॥

They remain absorbed in God Himself.

Absorbed.

What a beautiful word.

Guru Ji...

I know what it means to be absorbed in work.

I know what it means to be absorbed in my phone.

In worries.

In deadlines.

In money.

In success.

In failure.

In everything that keeps changing.

But what would my life look like if I became absorbed in Waheguru instead?

Would I become kinder?

Would I become calmer?

Would I complain less?

Would I forgive sooner?

Would I finally stop believing that I carry the weight of this world on my own shoulders?

Then you wrote:

ਜੋ ਹੋਆ ਹੋਵਤ ਸੋ ਜਾਣੈ ॥

They know what has happened and what is happening.

For years I wondered if this meant that holy people could somehow know the future.

Today I think I finally understood.

You were not describing someone who knows tomorrow.

You were describing someone who finally understands today.

They understand why ego hurts.

Why greed never satisfies.

Why anger leaves us emptier than before.

Why forgiveness heals the person who forgives.

Why every joy and every sorrow eventually passes.

The world has not changed.

Only the eyes through which it is seen.

And then...

The line that I believe holds the entire shabad together.

ਪ੍ਰਭ ਅਪਨੇ ਕਾ ਹੁਕਮੁ ਪਛਾਣੈ ॥

They recognize God's Hukam.

Guru Ji...

I have spent so much of my life asking,

"Why?"

Why this illness?

Why this loss?

Why this disappointment?

Why this delay?

Why this pain?

I have exhausted myself searching for answers You never promised me.

Yet You offered me something far greater.

Not answers.

Trust.

Perhaps Hukam is not about explaining every storm.

Perhaps it is about reminding me that the One who calms the storm has never left the boat.

Perhaps peace begins the moment I stop demanding explanations from God...

...and simply hold His hand.

Then your humility overwhelmed me.

ਤਿਸ ਕੀ ਮਹਿਮਾ ਕਉਨ ਬਖਾਨਉ ॥

Who can describe such greatness?

ਤਿਸ ਕਾ ਗੁਨੁ ਕਹਿ ਏਕ ਨ ਜਾਨਉ ॥

I cannot describe even one of their virtues.

Guru Ji...

You endured unimaginable suffering.

You gave us Sukhmani Sahib.

You gave us peace through your words.

Yet you refused to speak about your own greatness.

Instead, you pointed toward those who lose themselves in Waheguru.

The closer someone comes to God...

The less they speak about themselves.

I think I finally understand why humility is not simply a virtue.

It is evidence that someone has stood close enough to the Infinite to realize how small the ego truly is.

Then you ended with words that made me put the Gutka Sahib down.

ਆਠ ਪਹਰ ਪ੍ਰਭ ਬਸਹਿ ਹਜੂਰੇ ॥

They dwell in God's Presence all day and night.

Guru Ji...

Isn't that already true?

Hasn't Waheguru always been beside me?

The problem was never His absence.

It was mine.

He never stopped watching over me.

I simply forgot to notice.

He was there when I celebrated.

He was there when I cried.

He was there during every success I proudly claimed as my own.

He was there during every failure I thought I had to carry alone.

He never moved.

I did.

Then your final words...

ਕਹੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਸੇਈ ਜਨ ਪੂਰੇ ॥

Says Nanak, they alone are the complete human beings.

The world spends an entire lifetime teaching us how to become successful.

But you spent one shabad teaching us how to become complete.

Not through wealth.

Not through knowledge.

Not through recognition.

Not through power.

But through remembrance.

Love.

Humility.

Hukam.

And living every breath aware that Waheguru has never been farther away than the beating of my own heart.

Guru Ji...

Thank you.

Not only for writing this shabad...

But for writing it knowing that centuries later, someone like me would still need it.

Someone who still struggles with ego.

Still becomes impatient.

Still forgets.

Still wanders.

Still falls.

Yet every time I open Gurbani...

You never remind me how many times I have failed.

You simply invite me to begin again.

Perhaps that is what moves me the most.

Not that God waits for perfect people.

But that He never stops calling imperfect ones home.

Today, your shabad did more than explain spirituality.

It reminded me that even after all my mistakes...

Waheguru is still waiting.

Still loving.

Still giving.

Still calling.

And perhaps...

That has been the meaning of this shabad all along.

With folded hands,

A child who still loses his way, but is forever grateful that the Guru never stops showing the way home.