How an angry young man labelled as an enthusiastic fool by most, turned the tables and bought himself 'near salvation'! The story of Jasbir Singh Sahni, who today is a pillar of Sewa for The Kalgidhar Trust, Baru Sahib.
Part-2
One hot summer on a Sunday afternoon, as usual Darji took Jasbir in his lap and related him a Saakhi of Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth master and how he himself dressed up his two sons Sahibzaadey Ajit Singh and Jhujhar Singh; preparing to send them to martyrdom in the battle of Chamkaur.
The impact of the reality hit young Jasbir like a cannon. He was dumbfounded and could not fathom the reason as to how a father could send his two adolescents towards a sure painful death in the hands of a one million army.
Darji looked into Jasbir’s eyes lifting his chin, “this does not end here, young man”. He added “The tenth master saw with his own eyes, his elder lad valiantly fighting and slaying hundreds before attaining martyrdom. To the shock of everybody, Guru Gobind Singh shouted in triumph with cheer on his face – Bole so Nihal – Sat Sri Akal (whoever utters the phrase following shall be happy, shall be fulfilled, Eternal is the Great Timeless Lord)”.Jasbir could not believe his ears; but the next part of the true story made him miss a heartbeat. “Beta, the valiant master was asked by five Singhs to leave Chamkaur Fort in the dead of the night” said Darji with a hint of a glisten in his eyes “Guru ji having no choice started barefoot in dark with a few trusted lieutenants. He struck upon some heavy mass in the dark and asked Dya Singh to see what it was?” Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes “Dya Singh told his master that it was Sahibzaada Jhujhar Singh’s blood ridden body”.
“My son, this still does not end here. Do you know, what your Guru did?” Jasbir sat up; all eyes for his Master’s true-story. “He did not allow Dya Singh to put a shroud over the warrior son’s body” Darji was choking when he uttered Guru Gobind Singh’s resounding words “How many shrouds do you have Dya Singh, are the others lying here not my sons? Jasbir was jolted out of his stupor, as Darji said “His other two younger sons Sahibzaadey Zoravar singh and Fateh Singh chose to defy the Muslim Sultanate and embrace martyrdom by getting bricked alive in Sirhind despite being given the offer of freedom in return of converting to Islam.”
“Jasbir putar (son), thus spake our Father when he was broken the news of the martyrdom of all four sons”. “In putran ke sees par waar diye sut chaar. Chaar muhe to kya hua jiwat kayi hazaar (It’s for your sake that, I have sacrificed my sons. What if four are dead, there are thousands who are still alive)” Darji broke down sobbing and held his little one tight in his embrace. The little boy clutched on stoically to his grandfather and tried hard to hold back his tears.
Rocking back and forth both souls were entwined in a tight clasp as if it was a divine cradle that was subduing their pain. That one moment Little Jasbir cried, and cried copiously as if it was not a story but an incident out of his own life.
Confused and shaken up with the impact of the unheard sacrifices hitting him hard, Jasbir lay down that night lost in deep thoughts. The innocent mind wove around a thread that looped in and out with varied thoughts, most that he could not reason with.
Feeling heavily burdened, his shiny perspiring forehead knotted with a hundred wrinkles that left his young unblemished skin strained and crinkled with a pinkish hue, the young boy left his wretched world behind as he drifted away to his dreams. This time he was floating over what looked like a battlefield, hundreds of bodies strewn around but as he swooped down, the blurred faces which now looked familiar, seemed beckoning to him with their arms swaying.
Jolted out of his dreams, the troubled boy suddenly awakened to a new stronger reason to live, a hope to fulfill and a desire to achieve, to become extraordinary, to rise above the customary and be known for that. The young impressionable mind had decided to move on and create his own path of exceptional sacrifice.
He felt as if just this thought, had melted away all the accumulated acrimonious anger pent up inside him, for the actions of the world which he could not understand. His face reflected an eerie calmness, something that he had not experienced for a long time now.
As he trundled back from school the next day, he could see a crowd gathered around his house with groups in hushed voices exchanging glances at him. He walked in to a scene of commotion with his grandmother sobbing, lying at the feet of Darji and the ladies around her wailing in strange undecipherable voices.
Seeing his grandfather lying on the floor with his eyes closed, Jasbir sat down cross legged next to him. Confused, he could not make out the reason for the discomposure around him. Slowly his hands inched at the lifeless hand next to him to pinch it sharply. As a reflex, he expected Darji to say “Thehar jaa Baandar” (Stop you monkey), so that the serious state of affairs would turn lighter.
But Jasbir was even more confused when Darji did not respond and the touch of the skin felt cold and unnatural. His bewildered thoughts narrowed down when he realized hazily that this may be what they call ‘death’.
Darji had gone to the Gurdwara in the morning as usual and folded up at its gate after the morning Hukamnama (historical order of the Masters). The young kid felt orphaned today as he pined for his grandfather to cradle him and whisper him those inspirational stories. Jasbir felt as if a divine thread had broken and released him from the binds of the known and unkown.
What he could never imagine was that the old man had gathered up all of his young one’s pains and sorrows, in his arms to fly away to eternal bliss.
Contd. (wait for Part - 3)
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