The first in a series by the author to mark the up-coming thirty-third anniversary of the attack on the Sri Harmandir Sahib (The Golden Temple)
Also by the Author : The Semantics of the 1984 Genocide & The Bugbear of Khalistan
It was a time of great turmoil. The peril was grave and imminent. A large, well-armed force was about swoop down upon the Harmandir Sahib. In its path stood a young man of steely resolve. A man who had decided to resist. Many had fled. Only a few stood shoulder to shoulder with him. The invading force arrived. It was even larger and more fearsome than had been rumored, but the young man stood his ground. The battle began. The ferocity of the defenders shocked the invading force. Their resistance became the stuff of legend.
The end was inevitable. The young warrior and his comrades lay dead. The invading force captured and desecrated the Sri Harmandir Sahib, as they had set out to do.
Victory, however, eluded the invaders. For remembrance by posterity resounds with paeans to the gallantry of the fallen defenders.
Even in death, the defenders, led by the young warrior, carried the day.
This is his story.
No. This is not the story of Jarnail Singh Bhinderanwale and his defense of the Sri Akal Takhat against the Indian Army’s onslaught.
This is the story of Baba Gurbaksh Singh, the Akali warrior who dared to defy the might of the Afghan hordes.
His tiny band was outnumbered. Outgunned. And yet he embraced death like bridegroom joyously bound for his wedding.
The account is from Rattan Singh Bhangu’s opus, Panth Prakash.
As I savor and translate each verse from Rattan Singh’s rousing tale, several thoughts play in my head. Perhaps on that fateful day in June, thirty-three years ago, a similar sight was seen in Amritsar by the gallant defenders of The Akal Takhat. Perhaps Bhai Mani Singh and Bhai Taru Singh and their cohort of martyrs long gone, appeared that day too. On shining steeds and in bejeweled chariots with pennants flying to welcome the newest recruits into their ranks! For after all, from a Sikh perspective, there was not much difference between the actions of Ahmad Shah Abdali and Mrs. Indira Gandhi. Any student of Sikh history will see a similar pattern, where tyrant after tyrant who sought to ‘teach the Sikhs a lesson’ chose the Sri Harmandir Sahib, the most visible symbol of Sikh sovereignty as the primary target of their depredations.
Episode 156 from Sri Gur Panth Prakash by Rattan Singh Bhangu
(Translators note : I have attempted more or less to be faithful to Rattan Singh Bhangoo’s meter, but I would urge my readers who can, to read this in the original. This is not a word by word translation; I have however, endeavored to faithfully present the narrative and capture the spirit of Rattan Singh Bahngu’s poetry.) The tale of a Martyr, brave Nihang Who gave his head and Death did wed And thus the mighty Gurbaksh Singh Truly did become a king
Dohra (Couplet) :
On the hallowed earth of Amrtisar
Martyrdom did the man embrace
Join with me O gentle ones
As the mighty fallen Nihang I praise
Chaupai (Quatrain) :
Young man of steel this warrior brave
Steadfast and sober dressed in blue
Rises at dawn and drains his cup
And girds up for the coming day
Prayers are said in early morn
Proud turban does his head adorn
To shining steel he bows his head
Before it’s on his person borne
A chain of steel around his neck
Shining bracelets upon his wrists
Quoits of steel upon his head
Together his impervious shield
Gloves of steel, a mighty club
Breeches that hang down to his knees
On his breast a coat of mail
Resplendent is The Warrior brave
Dohra:
He shall be worthy of this name
To whom is sorrow as is joy
He will be honored as a sage
To whom is comfort as is pain
Steadfast and steady as a rock
Worthy kind generous and brave
Firm of purpose never swayed
By flattery of chief or knave
Chaupai :
At the urgent beat of the drum of war
He shrinks not from the fear of death
At the whisper of a threat to his own
Ready to fight till his last breath
And when the time to fight is nigh
He jumps in standard flying high
And as the war drum thrums and growls
In the van The Warrior prowls
From Bhai Mani Singh’s very own hands
He drank the immortal brew of love
By Khemkaran, Leel, a village fair
In Majha lies this lion’s lair
Dohra:
A leader true, always out front
His men forming his glorious train
Wherever he would plant his flag
His men so steadfast would remain
Chaupai:
His face toward most holy shrine
In the Timeless Tower he would dwell
Watchful ever his mighty horde
Chanting the name of the Timeless Lord
Hear ye this tale of warrior brave
How he withstood the Afghan might
Of the rampage of the Gilji tribe
My words render that terrible sight
In Bharatpur there was a king
Who sacked the wealth of Agra fair
Made off with two incomparable steeds
Mountains of wealth did his soldiers bring
One hundred laden carts of loot
And yet the treasure house was full
His mighty victory rendered moot
Beaten by the Ruhela Chief
Dohra :
In anger the king’s vengeful son
Resolved to build a mighty host
Caring for treasure not a whit
He built a lethal fighting force
Chaupai:
The chief of the Jatts Delhi besieged
Circumscribed the Ruhela Chief
And thus when he was helpless pinned
He turned to Kabul for relief
Seduced by dreams of a ransom rich
Set out a fearsome Afghan force
At the rumor of its coming, mere
Amritsar was plunged in fear
To the hills they fled in panicked haste
Only to fuel the bandits’ feasts
Those who sought shelter by the streams
Fell prey to fierce and hungry beasts
Those who dared to stay behind
The Giljis bound with rope and chain
And all of those who left their homes
Found nothing but heartbreak and pain
Dohra:
In forests and in place strange
The fleeing Sikhs in misery dwelt
And pondering their pitiful state
Their pain the mighty warrior felt
Chaupai:
The Sikhs gathered for evening prayers
In the shade of the Timeless Tower cool
To leave the town was the sacred writ
Save Warriors by the sacred pool
Was heard the mighty Warrior roar
Is there today one single man?
To valiantly pick up the sword
In the name of the ever glorious Lord
Steadfast and strong, meditative, calm
Truthfully who treads the path
Unselfish brave, to the very core
Like the martyr Taru Singh of yore
The Sikhs then spoke in a single voice
None here is worthier or more brave
Your are the one, young warrior strong
The Lord will hear your rousing song
Dohra:
Hearing this then The Warrior bows
His hands in fervent prayer joined
With folded hands and pendent head
The maiden Death agrees to wed
Chaupai:
Then sallies forth The Warrior bold
Is there one willing to stand?
Beside me in this noble plan
I shall be groom and he best man
They hear his words rise to their feet
Addressed to him this humble plea
And solemnly they did declare
From the bonds of fear let us be free
Standing now there were many more
Each willing to be a wedding guest
The mighty warrior did declare
In the next world too you will be blest
To be wed I shall give my head
My prize will be kingdoms galore
My wedding guests who with me sing
Each of them too shall be a king
Dohra:
For he who dies a glorious death
Is honored as a royal liege
It’s true it’s what the scripture saith
These are the words of the master Tenth
Chaupai:
Fearlessly offer up your head
Fear not divine reward you’ll get
For this is what the Master said
Reiterates The Warrior brave
And Ahmad Shah has reached Lahore
Ramparts of Delhi he will raze
Sikhs gathered in fair Amritsar
Draw the tyrant’s rapine baleful gaze
Making great haste the cowards flee
The Warrior does not stop their flight
His soldiers young, brave hardy souls
Stand girded for the coming fight
Some are resplendent in blue
Others in saffron or dazzling white
By Timeless Tower they proudly stand
They swear to be Abdali’s blight
The heady brew they do partake
Eager to jump into the fray
Ready to die they show no fear
So glorious in their battle gear
Dohra: In battle dress and fully armed
Powerful backs are ramrod straight
Their lips recite the Gurus’ words
In the Guru’s hands it rests, their fate
Chaupai:
Chant verses from the Song of Bliss
Seeking blessings from the Guru Granth
A day of joy a wedding feast S
teaming Prashad receives the Panth
Bodies are sprayed perfume divine
For the wedding are the grooms prepared
The Warriors sing songs of praise Women respond with wedding airs
In sacred pool The Warrior bathes
In the Timeless Tower takes his place
A dazzling sight in splendid robes
That cover him from head to toe
On his head he dons a turban proud
Steel quoits dazzle in its folds
Amidst them does a dagger fix
As jaunty as a bridegroom’s plume
Dohra:
Upon him is pressed a chaplet fair
Sweet smelling blooms of many kinds
The Warrior dons in humble prayer
And is by all present he blessed
Steel on his wrists, blooms on his head
On his mighty shoulders sits a sword
The Timeless Tower he exits
Eager to bow before the Lord
Chaupai:
To the Temple then The Warrior wends
With folded hands and bended knees
The joyous songs; the chanted hymns
Oh glorious day! His heart they please
They march behind their standard proud
To the fearsome boom of kettledrums
Swaggering about like bridegrooms bold
Merrily flinging silver and gold
With reverence deep salute their flag
Generously do they give out alms
And when they reach the Temple door
They bow their heads down to the floor
The Warrior enters the hallowed space
And four times he circles The Book
All around him warriors brave
Rain down petals on his head and face
Dohra:
With folded hands The Warrior prays
Humble he stands in the Guru’s midst
May I be worthy, Lord, he says
My body and soul at your feet I lay
Chaupai:
Meanwhile the Giljis gird their loins
As they get word of the massing Singhs
They don their armor helmets and mail
Sikh warriors have none of these things
To their teeth are the mighty Giljis armed
Ready to lay the Singhs to waste
Arrows pistols and muskets long
Readied and primed with savage haste
The Singhs are armed with fighting words
Some have daggers, some double edged swords
Many have naught but rustic clubs
And yet they press, eager to fight
Some Singhs are mounted on their steeds
Jockey and twist to lead the charge
To each other solemnly swear
That each will lead the pack by far
Dohra:
And The Warrior dressed in battle gear
In the Timeless Tower in repose
Dashing bridegroom swells with pride
As he contemplates his winsome bride
Chaupai:
The war drum beats; standard is raised
With music divine is the Master praised
The minstrels sing sweet songs of bliss
Till the warriors too have had their fill
The Giljis march at break of dawn
And bear down upon the eager Singhs
Some steadfast sit on noble mounts
Foot soldiers too; they hold their ground
And where they stand they give their lives
For how could they stop such a mighty horde
And as they leave for their final abode
The Singhs who live give battle fierce
The Singhs are by the Giljis ringed
Kill them! Kill them! Like wolves they bay
Louder is heard the Warrior’s roar
Dig in! Show them the martyr’s way
Dohra:
Honor there is in pressing forth
Just as in holding back is shame
When hostile swords around you sing
It’s time to prove a warrior’s worth
Chaupai:
Hearing these words the warriors bound
And lion-like on the Giljis pounce
Where else can such valor be found
They care no more for life or limb
Press on! Press on The Warrior roars
Drink your fill of the martyrs brew
Your sylvan dreams of paradise
In martyrdom you will realize
If you wish to be an eternal king
The maiden, Death, you must embrace
Reborn you shall be! As a mighty Singh
Of your enemies there will be no trace
Sallied forth his most valiant men
We are best men! You are the groom
We will follow you to paradise
And with you we will gladly rule
Dohra:
For heaven we care not one whit
Our bonds of brotherhood are enough
A noble death fighting we crave
As we send our foes to a fiery grave
Chaupai:
And then The Warrior gravely says
A solemn oath I now do swear
As I set foot in the Guru’s court
To pieces will I the GIljis tear
My fearless brothers, now you take heart
You will be Singhs again reborn
And once again does The Warrior say
Embrace your death! Your enemies flay
The Giljis are back with fearsome force
The Singhs fight back their heels dug in
In their heads no thoughts of retreat
As slowly back Giljis they beat
Like a lion’s roar The Warrior’s cry
Let not today your purpose pale
For your faith you fight this noble fight
Dismount and with your swords prevail
Dohra:
These words beyond the Giljis’ ken
Their muskets rain a hail of lead
Steadfast men falling to the ground
Beholds The Warrior all around
Chaupai:
The Warrior swings his mighty sword
A fearsome Gilji whistling smites
Pierces his armor; rips his breast
And many more soldiers he fights
Audaciously the Singhs advance
For a moment mighty Giljis yield
With practiced ease they lightly dance
Each man sheltered behind his shield
Contemptuous look on his noble face
His shield, The Warrior tosses away
The Giljis charge with flashing swords
Undaunted Singhs! They join the fray
Eyelids un-batted heads unbowed
No backward glance! Singhs charge ahead
The Giljis take to their heels cowed
So furious is their attack
Dohra:
From a distance Gilji guns let loose
And arrows whistle through the air
Singhs spout blood from countless wounds
To shreds their flesh do Gilji’s tear
Chaupai:
The bullets they pierce their flesh and bone
The Singhs fight on heedless of pain
Their bodies spew a rush of blood
Like from an oil press flows a flood
The Warrior too profusely bleeds
Water spurting from a ruptured pouch
As on and on as he marches forth
Like fountains do the gashes spout
As more and more of his life blood seeps
His weary body starts to rebel
Yet The Warrior thinks not of retreat
That shame to him is worse than Hell
To the Lord he prays at this moment dark
Save me O Lord! Save me from shame
Accept my humble sacrifice
He begs as he chants his master’s Name
Dohra:
The Gilji horde just swells and swells
Fresh fighters now their ranks enhance
With fury fall upon the Singhs
And rend their foes with spear and lance
Chaupai:
The Warrior mighty swings his sword
Slices through many a lance
The Giljis dare not come too close A
way from flashing sword they prance
Dohra:
Not one Singh did that day retreat
Nor cast his eye towards the rear
No one shall ever dare to say
That even one ran from the fray
Chaupai:
Warrior assailed! So many spears!
s the Giljis strive to make him yield
And though he’s fallen on his knee
They cannot from his hand sword free
Kundaliya Chhand:
He grips his sword in bloody hand
But his mind is now roiled by doubt
f I cast my sword on the sand
Will they spare me a man unarmed
If I yield I’m sure I will live
But all this blood will be for naught
This glorious moment for sure will pass
The time to sacrifice is now
Thus The Warrior girds his loins
Makes up his mind to never bow
May my head from my trunk be cleaved
Hither! Sweet sword! No one bereaved
Chaupai:
He picks up his sword; mightily roars
A challenge to the Gilji horde
His neck is bare begs to be hacked
Just like was Ninth Master attacked
A Gilji bravo swings his blade
The Warrior’s head is no more nigh
The Lord is kind: a promise made
The Singhs can hold their heads up high
Of warriors past and martyrs’ sprites
Their joyous ranks The Warrior joins
Into their waiting arms he’s borne
Chariots divine with pennants flying
The come for him on prancing steeds
Bejeweled saddles! There is a slew
Beating war drums flying flags
In dazzling robes of electric blue
Dohra:
Music majestic spirits make
Accompanied by lute and drum
The Warrior joins the magic throng
Oh glorious and noble groom
Chaupai:
Oh look in the throng! Bhai Mani Singh!
The sage does songs from the scripture sing
Bhai Taru Singh! He is here too
Like s dog he leads a tyrant leashed
The tyrant is being thrashed with shoes
And for his evil deeds is flayed
Of evildoers a wicked crew
Is chastised till its black and blue
The Warrior the spirits greet
And in a warm embrace engulf
With happiness joyously meet
Brace of brothers who are long lost
Dohra:
With folded hands The Warrior prays
His mind his Master contemplates
Thank you My Lord! The Warrior says
And homage to his Master pays
Chaupai:
My Lord! My King! Giver of life
For eons we have lived with strife
These brutish dogs of Khorasan
Shall meet the fate of Wazir Khan
This evil king has caused us grief
We will eject him from our fief
Give us the strength to fight; prevail
Sweep them away like a mighty gale
This land is ours! Its bounty ours!
Why should we let them steal from us
The Master hears The Warrior’s plea
It will be thus my son! You’ll see
The Afghan king will soon to hell
The Singhs will merrily sound his knell
But there is more of the tale to tell
Of how his Gilji followers fell
Dohra:
The Giljis sleep in a makeshift camp
By the ramparts of the Bhangi fort
In dead of night the Singhs do stir
Stealthily creeps vengeful cohort
Chaupai:
Tired Giljis in slumber deep
The Singhs make off with many a steed
And on their camp they fiercely sweep
Writhing in the dust the Giljis bleed
At break of dawn the Giljis flee
Make haste to catch up with their king
In the light of day the Singhs behold
Brethren in heaps their bodies cold
And as the beaten foes retreat
More Singhs appear upon the scene
It looks as if the earth has bled
Or colored red by the warriors dead
The Singhs come up with a common plan
With honor they will treat every man
By the Timeless Tower a pyre is lit
By dancing flames Singhs solemnly sit
Dohra:
On the mighty fire are the martyrs laid
Fallen comrades gallant band
The Singhs prepare a sacred feast
Received humbly by every hand
Chaupai:
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
Their bodies fallen heroes leave
Their souls rise up to meet the Lord
And join the martyrs’ eternal horde
The Singhs joyously chant in praise
Blessed are fathers, such sons who raise
To the warriors is built a glorious shrine
Wishes are fulfilled every day
Such is the glory of this shrine
Many an malady has it cured
And so great is its power benign
Forgotten is all pain endured
But hark! The tale is not yet done
The Singhs have joyous odes to sing
The Warrior’s prayer, his dying breath
A miracle yet it is to bring
Dohra:
The fallen Warrior’s eternal soul
Comradeship with martyrs seeks
Earnestly he begs the Lord
With them may I live in accord
Chaupai:
The Master in his wisdom deep
Bestowed upon his slave a boon
The Warrior, did the Lord decree
Another life, for sure, would see
Of love of life, the man who’s free
Would the leader of a thousand be
O mighty chief who scoffed at flight Y
ou did not bow to the Gilji might
Clamored then the martyrs’ sprites
Hear us Lord of we may be so bold
For a dozen years let him dwell here
Then send him back into the world
All of us, our Lord you blessed
For the chance to savor your grace we beg
For a dozen years let us all dwell here
Then send us all back with a mission clear
Dohra:
So be it! Then spoke the Lord
It shall be as you ask of me
I will not cleave you from my side
Forever joined with me you’ll be
Chaupai:
Upon hearing these gracious words
The martyr’s hearts they swell with joy
The Warrior though is bold to ask
For me my Lord, what is your plan?
You my son, I now will bless
In you I place my powers thus
A sovereign now is every Singh
And you shall be their mighty king
Sovereign of all within your sight
None shall stand before your might
Dohra:
He who dares to draw your ire
Will be scorched as if by fire
The mightiest most defiant foe
At your feet will his weapons throw
Chaupai:
Tell my Lord! Your slave would know
The name of the house where my soul will go
You will be born to a warrior bold
Before whose might the Gilji’s fold
A warrior who is known to all
To evil who will never fall
A warrior willing to sacrifice
For the good of all, his very life
Speak up spirits of martyrs brave
If you have heard of such a man
Oh Lord where else can you send a king
But to the house of Charat Singh
In eighteen hundred twenty two
One Rattan Singh did tale this brew
Some of it came from what he knew
And some from ballads sung anew
Dohra:
Yes wisdom can be found in tomes
Its true it may be bought and sold
But wisdom that lies deep within
Priceless! If I may be so bold
Sarbpreet Singh is a playwright, commentator and poet, who has been writing while pursuing a career in technology for several years. He is the author of Kultar’s Mime, a poem about the 1984 Sikh Genocide. His commentary has appeared on NPR’s Morning Edition and Worldview, The Boston Herald, The Providence Journal, The Milwaukee Journal and several other newspapers and magazines. He is the founder and director of the Gurmat Sangeet Project, a non-profit dedicated to the preservation of traditional Sikh music and serves on the boards of various non-profits focused on service and social justice. He is very active in Boston Interfaith circles and serves as a spiritual advisor at Northeastern University.