Harmandir Sahib, The Golden Temple.

According to the Imperial Gazetteer, Guru Ram Das paid 700 Akbari to the villagers of Tung and acquired 500 bighas of land. In 1577 A.D. the town of Ramdaspur was established which later came to be known as Amritsar (lit. pool of nectar). Baba Budha while supervising constructing of the tank sat under a Jajuba tree, which still stands to the right of the main entrance and is called Baba Budhaji’s Ber. Another tree, the Ilachi Ber, is to the right of the bridge leading to the sanctum sanctorum. Guru Arjan used to sit in the shade of this tree and watched the construction of Harmandir Sahib, the Golden Temple.

In 1604 Guru Arjan installed the Adi Granth [Sikh scripture] for the first time in the sacred shrine. As Sikhs fought for survival under the most atrocious persecution Harmandir Sahib became a source of inspiration.

Sikh faith emphasizes simple and good living. The Golden Temple was built with doors in four directions. It was to signify that everyone irrespective of his or her origin and status is acceptable. There is no discrimination against anyone. Also, topographically, it is built at a level lower than the surrounding. Likewise, a Sikh is expected to be humble. The Sikh institution of langar (free community kitchen) is to share food with the needy. Every Sikh Gurdwara (temple) runs langar, which is open to all. This tradition has been in effect from the time of Guru Nanak, over 500 years ago. Nearly 70,000 people are fed daily by volunteers working round the clock in the Golden Temple complex. On weekends it is many times more.

Referring to Harmandir Sahib, Satish K. Kapoor writes:

“Here everything is resplendent with the light of the Infinite, emanating from the sanctum sanctorum. Here the eternal melody rings uninterruptedly and enters the very soul of man. Here the spiritual ambrosia flows giving hope and life to the sullen, the bewildered and the neurotic.

“Harmandir presents the divine symphony of order, harmony, beauty and peace. Hundreds of people pray at the shrine everyday to seek inspiration, get their desires fulfilled or to find spiritual solace.

“The Harmandir is like a lighthouse, which has been guiding manking on to the path of truth for the past 400 years. It has helped in the breaking of the bondages and barriers, which divide mankind, and provided shelter to the forlorn and a smile to the bereaved.

“The sanctity of the shrine ought to be preserved at all costs, for it is the substratum of our ethos, the very being of our culture.”

We are publishing two poems written by Durlabh Singh and Chris Mooney Singh. We hope, like them, you too will be inspired by its granduer and spirituality.. -- Editor

Golden Temple
by Durlabh Singh

Riding high on the limpid waves
Rising high on the shimmering presence
Blue waters of white marbled chequers
For the eternal hymns of wayward heart
The golden domes invoking a saffron path.

Novices of thoughts and sunshine abiding
The golden swarms of vibratory atoms
The hush of pilgrims on the circular pitch
Tearing apart structures of egoed ditch.

Give vent to destinations of beauty and liberty
The concerns of soul now past its restrictions
Illuminate a glance bereft of the inner tumult
Saluting the Guru’s presence in a silent rebirth.

Maharaja Ranjit Singh listening to Granth Sahib being recited near the Golden Temple. Painting in oils by August Schoefft, Vienna, c.1850. Princess Bamba Collection, Lahore Fort.

Harmandir Sahib
by Chris Mooney Singh

I

Amrit Sar

In the centre of the pool
The Golden Temple checks the mirror,
Takes a long bath in the cool.

The gold sun also bathes its face.
Some nights, the moon comes down as well.
Celestial bodies know this place.

The paper kite - a soul has given
Its pink face here in surrender;
It floats upon the waves of heaven.

The big carp in their nibbling school
Are the most blessed residents,
Eating prasad thrown in the pool.

Water is lit with electric light,
Yet holy songs emit more current:
Kirtan is sung here day and night.

Each pilgrim, family – husband, wife
Bathe each day for health and wealth,
Bathe for everlasting life.

Yet, who bathes inside the mind?
Refinement is the tallest Order.
The inner pool is hard to find.

II

At the Gateway

Here above the gate of Harimandir,
Fashioned by artisans in gold –
See Guru Nanak, Bhai Mardana.

The Guru tells again what has been told
By the Source of poetry he’s met.
Truth cannot be compromised or sold.

Gateway, Harmandir Sahib.

It stays longer than a fighter jet
Writing its messages of smoke
Above a holy shrine. Truth won’t let

The memory of boots and bullets take
Away the peace enduring at this place,
For here’s a pool, unruffled as a lake

Where Harimandir’s elegant face
Reflects serenity regardless.
Here no one religion, caste or race

Has sole privilege to possess
A place of Truth. All can bow or nod,
In their millions to the Formlessness

That made this golden gateway to One God.

III

The Bridge Across the Pool

From 2am until the evening’s over,
Shoulders jostle into Harmandir;
Thousands concentrate their power.
All come to bow their heads, ask and then to offer.

This final bridge steadies hungry souls
Above the water shadowy with fish
Like hopes and wishes flickering their scales.
Beneath naked feet, the holy waters wash.

This bridge of marble may bless men and women
As cloth and buckets mop up their own grime,
As Guru Granth on a palanquin
teaches hands to reach for the sublime.

The body is one’s bridge supporting this
Troubled life each soul attempts to cross.
Bowing here is practice for one’s house -
The heart is Harimandir of the cosmos.

The Guru is the bridge across the water
Like a sentence that completes the tale;
The Guru is the door for all to enter
Whose fingers walk with faith along the handrail.

Inside Harmandir, 1854. A watercolour by William Carpenter.

IV

Inside Harimandir, 1854
(A watercolour by William Carpenter)

Sit inside the navel of the earth,
Where the holy Scripture had its birth
With winter shawl, down-flowing turban -
Each listening; the four doors open

As rababi art expounds the Word,
Praise of God ascending like a bird.
Hope is fluttering; time has no end;
Longing sings and flies to meet the Friend.

The singer plucks his lovely instrument -
Round-bodied, carved and elegant,
Resonating deep. Mellow strings
Support the Shabad this rababi sings.

Music-seva starts with Bhai Mardana;
His lineage established a gharana.
All have served here since the Guru's day
With rabab and tabla, kartals, bells. They

Could sing the monsoon from a raga,
Through the shabad and sur-sadhana.
The art of song only rare ones hold,
Passed from Guru Nanak like old gold.

Kirtan is the marrow of this place -
Its gold-leaf walls, upper-vaulted space.
If God is music, He has lived here long
At Harmandir Sahib - Shrine of Song.

A mother and her child have their darshan;
A sparrow comes - the equal of a man.
It is the same scene the painter saw -
Shabad Kirtan humbly on the floor.

Copyright 2002. These poems may not be re-produced without express permission of the authors.

Photo Credit:
Harmandir Sahib, main page and top - sacredsites.com
Gateway, Harmandir Sahib - sikhs.org