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Nikiyan Jindiyan Wadde Kaare - Saka Sirhind

Updated: Aug 2, 2022

By: K S Ahluwalia

The second installment of supreme sacrifice – younger sons of G Gobind Singh – S Jorawar Singh and S Fateh Singh aged nine and seven years along with their grandma – Mata Gujri Ji happened in the last week of December, at Sirhind. Two young, blooming, budding lives got consumed by a fanatical, myopic, and me mighty – attitude.

You first torture them by putting them into a cold tower, near a rivulet with temperatures plummeting to sub zeros, without any warm clothing, bedding, famishing them without food and water, and each day for 3 days browbeating them with threats of a gory death if they do not heed to threats.

And then one had the tenacity and audacity to create a public event of this insane act – one that has no parallel in human history. Little did they realize that one may consume the human bodies but no one has the power to consume the ever-expanding human spirit --- a spirit that is encompassing, evolving, fresh, and alive.

Facing certain death, they fully understood that death is the bride of the brave. Their spirits were resolute, firm and unwavering; and they were steadfast in the path of upholding the righteous principles that they believed in, lived and were willing to die for. This was a conflict to uphold the right to live with dignity, honour, valour, self-esteem, self-love, self-respect by living and thinking beyond themselves.

They choose death rather than compromise - they rewrote, redefined and reshaped history.

Their spirits were like the flight of the eagle - they believed in themselves, they focused on the larger picture while not getting strangled, besieged in transactions. There was nothing like a sigh of an amputated spirit. There is no prosthetic for that. That’s the cradle of a centered being – inspirational, immersing, expanding and evolving.

Makers of man, creators of leaders, be observant that these were the children of the Sahibe Kamaal. They will never sell their souls to buy their future. And that my friend, is Integrity. That is called courage. They always knew what the right path is and they took it willingly even if it was hard – very hard.

It's a pity, Nawab of Sirhind, you chose an easy path- of physical annihilation and torture, but for the brave hearts – death is a bride of the brave.

Reflect that can you diminish the spirit of a more than eighty-year-old frail grandmother, and nine & seven years old children, you simply cannot and you know it that you are fighting a losing battle, yet you think that you will win this tide over. An apt example of one being an irrational optimist.

Let’s now all revisit that space – two young boys who have been deliberately famished by Nawab of Sirhind – no food, no water, no bedding, imprisoned in the cold dreary wintery bone-chilling nights in a burj, where they are under continuous surveillance to instil fear in their bones. Each day death threat is given, with ferocity, immense mental, physical and psychological pressure is being exerted, a choice between conversion to Islam or death.

Easy is it folks?

Ponder. Reflect. Examine. Their only companion being their grandma – frail old lady. Yet the three of them stood like a rock of Gibraltar – had the courage, conviction and resolute as that of the highest mountain peak, exhibited patience like the deepest ocean.

They remained steadfast, unwavering, untouched. And during the conversation with the Nawab, they replied him straight – pointed, concise, precise and to the point. They took the battle to his camp back by hitting him hard, exposing him totally. Never ever they had an iota of doubt or self-disbelief. Remember threats are given by cowards and physical extinguishment is only done by those who can’t convince. Nawab of Sirhind was facing the Everest test of his life – his ego was getting tattered, his power was being shown the door, his stature was reduced to a nobody. And by whom- two young kids of 9 and 7 years old. He simply couldn’t believe what was happening – his existence was at stake.

Imagine the scenario – you are being famished from all angles – food, sleep, water, and are being subjected to harshest of the threats each time, every time, each conversation aiming to demean you, make you feel insignificant, future being painted as dark as an alley, and in that, one exhibits such a strong resolute, a crystal clear communication, a unwavering line of sight.

Can this happen? No, it simply can’t happen. Yes, it happened – it’s a reality- a fact – two young boys simply made the Nawab bite the dust. They reduced him in his own eyes as a liability, a parasite that preys on others. He simply had no answers for their rebuttals. All his actions failed miserably. His cronies simply had no clue how to handle these young boys. Ironically the power consumed authorities- their spirits were down in dumps and they were feeling miserable on their very own existence. And when you can’t convince, converse, a coward – Nawab – gave a cannibal of order – brick these children alive.

Imagine yourself as a parent – who has two boys in the same ages. What would happen if you are told about this order? How will the children take it? In all fairness, they would be devastated. Broken. And would have succumbed to what the Nawab wanted. But that was not to be. Someone had decided to rewrite the history all over again.

Both Sahibzadas chose not to be part of the history but create it to give martyrdom a new meaning, a new direction, a new flight, a new perspective. They were fully aware that they had a larger picture to accomplish – a larger objective to be achieved and in doing so, this supreme sacrifice was an absolute necessity.

I now would want to take you to the evening before the execution – time when these thoughts are being penned. Just to share I am not writing its happening all by itself. Simply am I a witness here. In that cold burj – what would the scene be – what would the grandmother be feeling – she is about to witness the supreme sacrifice of her two grandsons – she witnessed her husband being executed by fanatical power obsessed mogul regime. No clue about her only son and two other grandsons. No place to rest, no food to eat, no bedding. And execution is only some hours away. And she now is old in age. Normally one would be give up – it’s all too hard. No point fighting a losing battle. Her two grandsons are looking up to her, they want her to exalt them, to inspire them more, to make them more resolute so that they can do the unthinkable, unfathomable. Is it easy folks? Think. Respond. Ponder. And Mata Gujri did the unbelievable – in that long cold, dreary light, she constantly inspired her grandsons that you are the creators of new history, you are the sons of the lion, who never gave up and who has been ordained by the Lord- to transform mortal insipid and fragile individuals to beings of substance – those who will chart a new future for the humanity, hence be prepared to face the challenge as it comes.

Remember you have a lineage and values to follow – the house of Nanak is a place where history is rewritten, goalposts are redefined, hence no despair, no despondency, no going back. Move forward catch the bull by its horns. Teach this Nawab a lesson of his life that you can kill our physical self but can’t touch our spirits, our soaring vision. Forget about you executing us; tell him, we are walking towards our own execution excitedly- gleefully and in celebration. For us it isn’t execution – its liberation – we are sons of Guru Gobind Singh who ingrained in us – that a Sikh means living life in a constant celebration. Execution is a word that cowards fear, for us – it simply doesn’t exist. Hence in our going, a new dawn would emerge, a new light would pervade, a new thought would manifest, a new era would unfold and a new being would be created. And to achieve all this – this isn’t a big price to pay.

And that’s what these brave hearts did the next morning – embracing death like a companion, and that’s what separates men from boys. Sahibzada Jorawar Singh and Sahibzada Fateh Singh – are invincible – they are the rising stars, the incredible stars, the ever glowing stars. They did not die – death died in front of them. A unique case where death faced its own death.

Kyon fiqar karte ho jannisoron,

Yeh un bachon ka imitihan ho raha hai,

Yeh karza kiston mein ada ho raha hai

Can I stand in front of that wall and feel – that if both the Sahibzadas are asking me, Sikha Sikhi rakhe tune? And my head will bow in shame. Your call now folks. In gratitude, till eternity I remain.

Disclaimer: Kindly note that the above blog has been submitted by members in their individual capacity.

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