Be the Best, a Kaur Princess, A brave Lioness, with Pure Success!!
Amarpreet Singh Munde
Sikh Missionary Society U.K. (Regd)

10, Featherstone Road. Southall, Middx, U.K. UB2 5AA

Tel: +44 020 8574 1902

Fax: +44 020 8574 1912

Reg Charity No: 262404

Sundri

Sikh Missionary Society: Publications: Sundri:

Sundri

Sundri

Amidst the blooming grassy farmlands in the plains of the Punjab lay a remote village inhabited by both Hindus and Muslims. A little distance was a dense forest and a lake where people used to go for game- hunting.

To the eastern side of the village was a road leading to the outskirts where a rich Hindu gentleman named Shama lived with his family. Today was the bridal farewell function (muklawa) of his daughter who was to leave for her husband's home. It was a happy evening when the soft breeze blew. The house of Shama buzzed with activity connected with the preparation and celebration of the farewell function. The house was overcrowded and it became so stuffy and congested that it was difficult to stay indoors. The bride named Surasti was pretty and exceedingly handsome. Upset by the smoke, she went over to her friends who were playing nearby on the road to the sear of the house. There was a spinning competition for youthful girls-some virgins, some wedded but waiting to join their husbands and some middle aged housewives. None of them could be called ugly by any standard, but compared to the charm of Surasti, they looked like stars around the full moon. Laughing and playing in their gay dresses they made a fascinating spectacle.

Just then two more young ladies who were sisters-in-law brought some rice and wild berries to clean, because closeby was a place with an arrangement for pounding and dehusking rice. At first, the ladies blew off the husks in fun and then turn by turn, they began separating the remaining husks off the grains. When it was time for Surasti to take her turn all the ladies sang in chorus the following line of the folk-song: "Sitting under the shade of trees, we mothers and daughters, our tasks we do............."

The wooden pestle in the hands of Surasti kept beat with the rhythm of the song as though the mortar was a drum. All were so much enraptured by this song that they lost all sense of time and space.

When the song ended, the unfortunate ladies were surprised to find a stout young ruffian Moghul soldier, riding a horse staring at them. His cynosure was the face of Surasti, who out of her maidenly coyness blushed, all of them were so frightened that they became nervous and pale.

Hindu parents, in this age of feudal lawlessness hardly allowed their daughters and daughters-in-law to go out of their home and used to keep them within the four walls like prisoners, because a beautiful wife, a fine house, riches and merchandise could hardly be retained by a Hindu. They were a risky liability against Muslim avarice. The reason for this risk to life and property was that the power of the Delhi Moghul emperor had declined; petty local governors became aggressive and daring; the country was subject to subversion and confusion, and arrogant rulers committed atrocities as they liked.

Dreading the evil intentions of the Moghul youth, the girls got scared. Their nervous uncertainty confirmed their fears when, advancing a few steps, the Moghul caught hold of Surasti's delicate wrist with his sturdy hand and with a jolt pulled her up to his horse and galloped away. The shrieks of Surasti and the sad plight of the v omen-folk brought all the villagers together and in this confusion they began to ask what had really happened. After hearing the account of the ladies regarding the abduction of Surasti and some of them having witnessed this misdeed happen before their eyes, they were flabbergasted and felt utterly demoralised. What evil times! O, the pity of it! Such degradation of conduct! In this entire group, not even one had the courage and the nerve to take risk and dare rescue the bride.

After the Moghul had disappeared, the elders of the village held a consultation and decided that the lady's father, brother and husband and two elderly representatives of the village should go to the Moghul and plead with him and perhaps out of compassion he might release the lady.

About a mile away from the village, a few tents had been pitched for the Moghul hunting party. These belonged to the ruler of this area and he had come here in search of game; he had very few servants with him. Today when he had gone hunting, he had left no guard in his camp; he had taken all with himself. While chasing a deer, the Moghul got separated from his servants. He rode far out but could not trace the deer; however he saw a village in the distance and rode to it for quenching his thirst and here he captured a lady as his game. When he got back to the camp, he did not find any servant. So leaving the lady on a carpet, he proceeded to tie his horse and began to look for water. Unfortunately, the supply of water had run short. As the Moghul returned to Surasti, he found that a delegation of villagers was approaching towards him. Surasti was sobbing on the carpet, while he took his seat on the bedstead. At that time five villagers prostrated in front of him and requested him to set the lady free. The Moghul remonstrated with them, declaring: "I am the ruler of this region. What does it matter if I take one girl out of the lot in the village? I am sure you will not feel her loss." Shamlal replied with folded hands: "This girl is my only daughter and, she got married recently. Today is the day of her send-off to her husband's home. Please be considerate, otherwise I will be disgraced. Have pity on me; the ruler is considered as the guardian of his subjects."

The Moghul: "Go away; I will not return this lady "

Shama: "Maharaj: you area great man: if you like I can compensate for her release by giving you silver equal to her weight. Kindly spare her."

The Nawab-grinned and shouted: "Go away."

Thereafter the girl's brother with folded hands and with great humility said: "Sir, you really do not need her. You have a thousand ladies at your disposal. Please take pity on this helpless girl; if you so desire I shall give you gold equal to her weight as recompense. I can buy you girls in her place. You are a generous man, and return this girl to me as a gift." The stony-hearted Nawab remained unaffected and looked in a different direction.

Then the girl's husband - who had come to the village to take his bride from her parental home - touched the Nawab's feet and said: "Sir, I am one of your subjects. It is the duty of the ruler to protect the honour of his subjects. I shall not be able to show my face in public to any one hereafter. Be kind to me and accept whatever money and goods I have as compensation and restore my wife to me. Please save me from disgrace."

Nawab: "Well, you all seem to be very rich. Go away. I shall not part with the golden sparrow. I do not need silver, gold or diamonds. Please go away, otherwise I shall arrest you."

Hearing this, the bridegroom felt frightened for he had unwittingly declared himself a rich man, He feared that the Nawab might attack his house and loot his wealth. It would be wise for him to slip away. Realising this, he went back to his father-in-law's house, where collecting his relatives, he proceeded to his home.

When the ruler did not heed even the entreaties of the village-representatives, the girl's brother fainted and collapsed on the spot. The girl's father sat nearby and sobbed. Seeing this, Surasti suddenly changed. Her tears dried away and she felt a resurgence of courage. She stood up, bared her face gleaming with religious conviction and came to the place where her brother had fainted and whispered loudly into his ears: "Get up, my brother; go home. I shall not touch even the water of this Moghul I shall burn myself rather than surrender to him,"

The father and the brother (of Surasti) felt convinced that the Moghul would not give up Surasti and she would definitely preserve her honour. They all returned home broken-hearted.

Alas, that beautiful home of Shama which sometime back was full of joy and fun became a place of mourning. All the relatives gathered to offer consolation and the ladies raised a hue and cry and wailed loudly. Hindus and Muslims of the village were scared by what had happened. Alas, it was a catastrophe! It was an uncondonable disgrace of the village.

While such laments were being made, suddenly a Sikh rider (Singh Sardar) seated on a green horse (armed from head to foot) dressed in tight drawers-Kachhera-and jacket and his waist tied with a sash, a dark turban on his head, robust in appearance (Singh Sardar)-whose face would gladden any one's heart, appeared on the spot. All the people looked at him intently, but no one could guess -who he was. Surasti's mother-who was surrounded by other women-recognised the Sikh rider as her own son who had earlier joined the Sikh brotherhood as Balwant Singh. He had left his home and for years no one had heard anything about him. Seeing her son after a long time, the mother's natural affection leapt within her. She got up and held him in her arms after be had got down from his horse. Seeing this, the father and the brother too recognised this young man. Alas! After such a long period of separation, the surge of natural love was suppressed by the narration of the sad story of Surasti-s abduction.

As-soon as the Sikh youth heard this story, his blood boiled. His eyes and face glowed with rage and his limbs shook with religious fervour. He inquired the whereabouts of the Moghul's tent. Immediately, he jumped on his horse, as he was keen to rescue his sister. The parents, however, dissuaded him from going to the Moghul's place, for they feared his certain death in the ensuing encounter. In those days, no Sikh was left alive by the Muslim ruler. But Balwant Singh turned a deaf ear to these entreaties. Within minutes, he reached the row of tents. He saw a pile of fuel, which had just been lighted and from the top he heard the faint recitation of some lines of the Japji (Sikh prayer). In a trice, Balwant Singh dismounted h horse and pushed away the pile of sticks and pulled his sister lying underneath. When Surasti looked up, she recognised her brother and could not contain her sudden joy and said: 'My dear brother! At this time when I ha decided to burn myself, there was the last wish in n mind that I should see you before my death. The Guru has been kind to fulfil my desire and I am happy to meet you on the eve of my departure from this world. God be thanked! Now you must go back to the place from where you came, for the Moghul is likely to return at any moment and I would like to end my life by immolation before his return.

Brother: "Dear sister! Suicide is a grave sin; con with me."

Sister: "No, my brother! To die for one's religion is not a sin. If I go away with you, this evil man will destroy our family; he will not spare us either. I am not all afraid of death. I feel the security of Guru Tegh Bahadur's presence with me. Let me sacrifice myself that others may survive."

Balwant Singh heard a sound coming from some distance and grabbing his sister's arm threw her on the saddle and galloped away. When he reached home, his father and brother scolded him: "O you sinner! What have you done? Do you think that the Turk (Moghul) will spare us? When he comes to know that one of our sons is Sikh, he will crush us all. Moreover, you have saved the girl from his clutches. Like an enraged lion, he will pounce on us. Be sensible, go back and return Surasti to him."

Balwant Singh could not tolerate such insulting and degrading words from his parents. He rode back with his sister to the jungle and after an hour's ride reached a spacious opening, which showed gory marks of a recent battle. The place was fall of dead bodies and the ground was soaked with blood. He was bewildered to see so much loss of life in such a short time after he left it. Could anyone tell him about this carnage? Where had all his companions gone? He dismounted his horse and inspected the bodies. One of the bodies was still breathing He lifted it up and found that his wounds were not fatal He tore off a turban and both he and his sister dressed up the wounds. He brought some water from a neighbouring lake and sprinkled it on the face of the wounded man. The man opened his eyes gently after a while and whispered feebly: "Balwant Singh, thank God; you have met me before my death."

Balwant Singh: "How did it happen? How come, that in such a short time so much havoc has been wrought. Everything is topsy-turvy."

Sher Singh: "O brother! At the time you left us to visit your home, we were planning to stay at this spot, but the Turks suddenly appeared-as if from the blue- and there was a terrible battle. The main group of the Khalsa retreated to the dense jungle. At that moment I fell down, badly wounded. Many Turks lost their lives but they were in great number. I do not know what happened after I fell down."

Thereafter Balwant Singh placed Sher Singh under the shade of a tree and began to search other bodies. He found one, which was still breathing. This Sikh did not have serious injuries: he had been wounded and then become unconscious. Soon after drinking some water and gaining full consciousness, he began narrating his story. He was a strong man and a good rider. They searched for the horses and found two horses tied to a tree; both belonged to the Sikhs who lay dead. A decision was taken that one horse be given to Surasti for riding, and the other horse to the other Sikh. Balwant Singh was to take the wounded Sher Singh on his horse and during the night all were to ride in to the jungle to join their comrades.

Surasti had earlier heard the brave deeds of the Sikh warriors. Her faith in Sikhism was unshakeable. She used to recite regularly and secretly the Sikh prayers (Gurbani). Her devotion was deep.

Firm belief or staunch faith is a great power in itself and when it is nourished, it becomes unshakeable like a rock. This eighteen-year old virgin had become deeply pious with unbounded devotion for Sikhism. Earlier she had sent purposely the Muslim youth in search of water; she collected a pile of fuel - which was lying in front of the kitchen-and set fire to it with some dry foliage. Then she seated herself on the pile reciting the Japji. At this juncture, her brave brother had come and rescued her. Even so when her own family members rejected her, her faith in Sikhism was not shaken. She began to respect on the hardships faced by Guru Gobind Singh and later by the Sikh warriors. She decided to accompany her brother. When she had reached the plain which had been the arena of a battle between the Sikhs and the Turks and had seen the wounded Sikhs lying on the ground, she was fired by a religious zeal and felt that there was nothing better for her to do than serving the Sikh soldiers who had risked their lives for their faith. She felt convinced that her brother had acquired the courage of his conviction and noble demeanour because of his Sikh faith and living with the Sikhs. He had grown into a noble person. Why could not she be as brave as her brother? She thought that just as the sandal tree imparts fragrance to others, in the same way her heart felt inspired by her brother's example. She began to reflect on the role of women- why should not women participate in the struggle for the defence of morality and religion? If all women could not do so, at least she could set an example of courage by following her worthy brother.

Such thoughts enabled Surasti to keep her cool when she viewed the terrible carnage. She told her brother of her determination to follow his example, and grabbing a sword from the body of a dead soldier hung it round her neck.

While they were in the process of removing the wounded brethren from the field, they saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance. As they looked intently, they found a band of riders galloping towards them. They rightly guessed that these riders were coming in pursuit of the lady-Surasti, whom they had rescued.

The three Sikhs gave free reins to their horses, while a hundred Turks pursued them. The horses ran for three or four miles when Sher Singh's horse stumbled and fell. The result was that his companions had to halt and soon the Turks surrounded them. A fight ensued between the two groups. Sher Singh was killed, while on the other side eight or ten Turks fell unconscious on the ground and the Muslim leader also got wounded. Balwant Singh and Surasti too got injured and their horses were killed in the encounter. Both of them - brother and sister - were captured and put under guard and taken to the jail to face atrocities.

The Sikhs had chopped some trees and plants in the centre of a dense jungle so as to make a clearing for a camping ground. There were many such places in the Punjab where the Sikhs found shelter in those troubled times. They were familiar with the topography of the region, but it was an arduous task for their enemies to enter into those dense jungles to locate them. Now we shall describe a function held in the jungle.

A religious congregation was held in the jungle in the evening. Guru Granth Sahib was placed in a central spot and five Sikhs sang hymns. The leader of this group was Sham Singh, who with his godly and ruddy face of a young man addressed the gathering at the end of the prayers thus: "Brothers, does any one know the whereabouts of Balwant Singh?" All shook their heads to indicate a negative answer. He had been seen going to his village, but had not yet returned. Possibly, he had been lured by the comforts of his home. Sham Singh did not agree with this view and declared: "This is impossible. Balwant Singh and domestic comforts do not go together. Perhaps he has been the victim of some accident or catastrophe; he is not a man to stay away." Rathor Singh said: "Sir, let us send someone to his village to find out the facts." Then another Sikh intervened and said: "If you permit me, I shall proceed to his village for this purpose." The leader replied: "Go and find but about Balwant Singh, but return quickly. Disguise yourself as a Moghul. If you go dressed as a Sikh you may be captured. Also please gather information about the situation of the Khalsa. We have had recently a lot of bad news from Lahore."

Hearing this, the young Sikh whose name was Hari Singh bowed to Guru Granth Sahib. He dressed himself as a Moghul and galloped away on horseback. It was the time of the sunset and darkness soon covered the jungle. This young man was not afraid of riding at night through the jungle. He proceeded ahead like a fearless lion. After some distance, the jungle became dense and impassable. He dismounted and holding the reins of his horse proceeded cautiously and circuitously, sometimes disengaging himself from the curly branches. With great difficulty he passed through the jungle. It was very late in the night when he mounted his horse again and reached a small village. He entered an old inn (Serai) where there was a Muslim's restaurant and a Hindu's shop. Both the owners seeing the Moghul approaching them stood up and after greeting him offered him a cot for rest. Then they brought some grass for his horse. The rider declared that he did not want any food for himself. He tied his horse to the cot and spreading a mat on it, he lay asleep. His sleep was disturbed after a couple of hours when a rich Muslim Chief arrived with his retinue. After a great tumult, they retired to their beds. The Muslim Chief went to sleep, while some of his servants began talking in low tones. Hari Singh was disguised as a Muslim. He was resting on a cot nearby. He listened attentively to the conversation of the sepoys which was as follows:

The first sepoy: "Who is this Balwant?"

The second sepoy: "He is a Kafir (Non-Muslim) but a brave soldier who in his encounter with Nadir Shah's army killed Rustam Khan."

First sepoy: "It is our good luck that such a dangerous and brave man has been captured."

Second sepoy: "If you were to see his sister, you would be enamoured of her. Now she is sullen in captivity, but when she was captured I was lucky to see her. She is like the moon I wonder how these maidens of Hindus are so beautiful."

First Sepoy: "Well, this lady will now be converted to Islam.

Second Sepoy: "Yes, then the Nawab will marry her with great pomp and pageantry and we shall also be rewarded "

First Sepoy: "Have the brother and sister agreed to embrace Islam?"

Second Sepoy: "Have the Sikhs ever changed their religion willingly? We have to use force to make them realise the benefits of conversion. They will, if left to themselves, sacrifice their lives rather than change their religion."

First Sepoy: "You are right. They are very obstinate. Hindus are soft like butter, but the Sikhs are hard as stone. Heaven knows from where they have got the strength of their conviction. Well, tell me how much time is left for the event."

Second Sepoy: "Not much, Tomorrow is Tuesday, then will follow Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday, this auspicious event will take place."

First Sepoy: "You must be feeling really happy, your master is lucky to have caught a golden sparrow."

Second Sepoy: "You must also be equally delighted. Your master - the Mulla (Muslim priest) has been called from such a long distance. I am sure he will get a big reward. As such, you will get enough money. However, whether you get any remuneration or not is a separate issue - the very spectacle of watching the conversion of these Sikhs is in itself a holy act.''

First sepoy: "That is true, but why has so much time been allowed to lapse. It is more than a month since Balwant Singh was captured, and, why this leniency? Why did they not accomplish this task quickly?"

Second sepoy: "The reason was that both Balwant Singh and his sister were wounded in their fight against the Moghuls and were quite ill, now they have recovered and that explains the cause of delay."

After finishing their talk they fell to sleep, The brave Sikh (Hari Singh) quickly got; up, fixed his saddle on the horse and galloped away to his leader it was a dark night; the path-way could hardly be seen; the sky was overcast. The horse stumbled quite often, but the brave Sikh of Guru Gobind Singh never lost his nerve. A little before dawn he entered a jungle and at sunrise reached, his destination.

At this time, all the Sikh's, after taking bath had assembled for the morning congregation. They started the recitation of Asa-di-var (a morning prayer). Hari Singh also joined them and listened to the recitation. After the conclusion of prayers, Hari Singh narrated the substance of the talk of the Turkish soldiers to the gathering. Bhai Balwant Singh and his sister lay imprisoned in a jail in the Doaba region (between the river Beas and Sutlej) and were scheduled for forcible conversion to Islam on Friday; That day was Tuesday; if the, Khalsa mustered courage it would be possible to rescue them in time. This news; caused much excitement and; fervour among the Sikhs. Their faces were flushed with rage; their hearts were full of anger and fury. Their sentiments for religion and of courage for its protection were stirred as they loudly, exclaimed! "Guru, Guru."

Sardar, Sham Singh loved every member of his group as much as himself. Balwant Singh, however, was an outstanding warrior and moreover he was now imprisoned along with a Sikh girl; this could not be tolerated. Immediately calling his comrades Sham Singh ordered them to proceed and declared that food would be served on the way. They could not delay in an emergency like this. He announced that they would go through the jungles and save every second. They would depart without any delay on the rescue-mission. They had to be prompt and certain of victory with the Guru's grace. Hearing the order of departure from their leader the Sikhs jumped on their saddles and struggled for their way through the dense jungle.

The sun was covered with dense clouds. Like a disarrayed army, the layers of clouds roamed in the sky. The movement of the wind was also wayward. Sometimes it would be swift and dusty, sometimes quiet and slow. The Moghuls with their conventional loose under sheets were loitering leisurely and proudly; the traders in their modest shops were idling away their time. But in the main mosque of the town things were different. Group after group of Muslims assembled in the courtyard. Outside the gate and in front of the shops stood military guards fully armed.

Something was approaching towards the front gate. It was a palanquin, which rested on the shoulders of four forcibly recruited Brahmin coolies. Inside the palanquin sat a sturdy Mulla (Muslim priest) who had been specially invited for the function fixed for that day. As soon as the palanquin reached the main gate of the mosque, the Mulla came out from the palanquin. He was respectfully greeted by the assembly and seated in the centre of the mosque. Soon thereafter five or seven riders arrived at the spot. The Nawab (ruler) rode on a horse and behind him was a closed palanquin, followed by a man in handcuffs. He wore dirty underwear, a mud-soiled shirt, and a small turban on his head, but his eyes were blood-shot with rage.

At the door of the mosque, a veiled woman got down from the palanquin. She and the captive Sikh entered the mosque and were seated in front of the Mulla. The courtyard of the mosque was overcrowded but there was complete silence. At last the Mulla broke the ice and addressed the captive standing in front of him, thus:

Mulla: "Balwant Singh, do you accept Islam voluntarily and willingly?"

Balwant Singh: "No, rather I shall welcome death willingly."

Mulla (addressing the Nawab): "This man is obstinate. He will not yield willingly. Either he will have to be slain or forcibly...."

Nawab: "I like the latter course. I do not lavish to kill the brother of this moon-like maiden."

Mulla: "Is a barber present here?"

Barber: "Yes Sir, I am here."

Mulla: "Come here and cut this man's hair."

Barber: "Very well."

The barber began to open his bag. Though the captive Sikh's hands were tied with chains, he lunged forward causing a great fright to the frail-framed barber. Seeing this, four sepoys grabbed Balwant Singh while the barber approached his victim. At this moment, the veiled woman whose hands and feet were tied also, threw away her veil, pushed the barber with her shoulders, rolling him over the dusty ground. She then stood up like a ferocious lioness. Seeing her beauty and her rage, the bystanders were much amazed. The Nawab on the other hand who was enamoured of her beauty was shocked by her angry look, like a man affected by a fall of lightning. The Mulla beckoned two sepoys to seize the girl and they tied her arms behind her back.

The Nawab was irritated, but what could he do? He was afraid of the Mulla and the crowd. If he had shown any leniency towards the young maid, he would have been censured as weak and compassionate to an infidel. The Nawab cast his eyeful glance at the girl who he expected would become his Begum (wife) soon, but even so at this moment she was still an infidel.

In the meantime, the barber regained his composure and wanted to proceed with his task Surasti was watching the plight and desperation of her brother with love mixed with compassion, and on the other hand she was aware of her predicament and frustration. Alas! Why should a brave brother have to face such degradation on account of the helplessness of an unfortunate sister?

In the meantime, a cloud of dust could be seen over the bazaar; there was a great tumult. Some thought it was a dust storm, others fit that a house had collapsed, yet others thought that an earthquake had begun: some thought that another Muslim ruler was coming with his retinue to join the celebration. All began to look in that direction. In a moment, a group of soldiers appeared out of the dust-cloud and a struggle began between the sepoys and the group of Sikhs, and suddenly the raiders entered the premises of the mosque and uttered the Sikh Jaikara (Bolay So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal) and called out "Balwant Singh." As Balwant Singh stood up. one of the Sikh grabbed the captive and threw him on the saddle of his horse, while another Sikh soldier caught hold of Surasti and placed her on his horse-back and immediately, like a thunder-bolt turning back, galloped away. The rest of the Sikh platoon had surrounded the gathering and as soon as the commander's order for 'Dispersal' was given, the Sikh troopers in a trice, like lightning disappearing after hitting a farm, galloped away from the mosque to the main bazaar and then towards the eastern exit of the village. Suddenly the commander of the platoon ordered his sepoys to halt and immediately all reined back their horses to a standstill. The reason was that the Muslim guards who were guarding the gate had first thought that the group might be the army of a neighbouring Muslim ruler but they recognised the Khalsa. They hid themselves and remained unnoticed and in the meantime reinforced themselves.

Seeing this predicament, Sardar Sham Singh asked his sharp shooters to take the front line, but before the guards could do anything, the Sikhs shot down the two gunners. Immediately Sardar Sham Singh asked his ten sepoys to shoot their arrows at the sepoys standing over the top of the gate. These people were wounded and soon the Sikhs broke down the gate like the shell of an almond. Outside the gate was another group of sepoys. Sham Singh's strategy worked, as his cavalry striking right and left and pushing their horses forward pierced through the line of the enemy and galloped away.

After the Sikhs had covered ten to twelve miles, they came across an open ground full of blooming crops where they set up a camp. They tied their horses to the tree trunks and cut some fodder for them. Some proceeded to the neighbouring village to buy some foodstuffs. Sham Singh spread a sheet on the grass and sat down. Others went over to Balwant Singh and Surasti, removed their fetters and brought them to Sardar Sham Singh. Then followed a scene of reunion, which would be remembered always. One by one the Sikhs came forward and embraced Balwant Singh with joy and welcomed Surasti with folded hands and the Khalsa greeting. Soon after the exchange of greetings and the shouts of Jaikaras (the calls of Sat Sri Akal) which echoed all over, Balwant Singh and Surasti moved near to Sardar Sham Singh. First Balwant Singh related his own story and described the atrocities he and Surasti had to suffer in jail: But soon he heaved a sigh and declared that his greatest anxiety was the Nawab's resolve to make Surasti his wife by force, and now he was happy and thankful to the Guru for the success of the rescue-mission and the achievement of the Khalsa.

After Balwant Singh had finished his narrative, Sardar Sham Singh explained how, though they hurried through the jungles quietly and stealthily, they lost their way and as such were delayed. That morning they had best hope of rescuing Balwant Singh and his sister in time, but with the Guru's blessing who wanted to preserve their Dharma (Faith), they reached by mid-morning a town which was only five or six miles away from the mosque. It was with God's grace again that they reached the place just in the nick of time and gained their objective after a short struggle. If there had been a full-scale battle with the Moguls, they would have been at a disadvantage on account of their small number. It would have been difficult to wrest a victory. These talks continued for quite some time.

After a short while, the Sikhs who had gone to the village returned and reported that the number of Hindus there was small and the Turks were in a majority. None was ready to give them any food; though they had paid for foodstuffs they got nothing because the Hindus were mortally afraid of the Muslims. Sham Singh shouted to them: -"Bring the Panchas (Village head-men) here."- The Sikhs presented two men who they said were the Panchas of the village, whom they had captured.

Sham Singh: "Tell me Chowdhury (chief) why do you not give us food?"

Panchas: "We are commanded by our rulers not to give any food to the Sikhs"

Sham Singh: "At the moment, the ruler is the Khalsa."

Panchas: "We know nothing of the Khalsa. The Khalsa is like the shade of the clouds-now there. Who knows where you will be tomorrow?"

Sham Singh: "Let some twenty people go to the village and bring food. Do not harass any child or woman and do not touch anything except food - stuffs, and pay for it in gold.

As soon as Sham Singh issued this order, three or four Muslim women in veils approached him and began to sob. They were accompanied by a fourteen-year old boy who was their spokesman. He requested that their men-folk should not be harassed or beaten up and that they would supply what the Sikhs wanted.

Sham Singh: "We want only food for our men and horses and nothing else."

Women: "We shall soon send you loaves prepared by Hindu women, but we hope you will not ill-treat our men."

Sham Singh: "No, we shall give you money for the food. The Khalsa will never loot or beat up its subjects. To befool the royal forces and to loot the King's treasure are our tasks. We are enemies of tyrants; we are not enemies of honest people. This is the assignment of the Khalsa. Go and be quick; take money and supply food. Let your men-folk be happy."

The Muslim women soon returned to the village. They collected the Hindu women at one place and gave them wheat flour and pulses for cooking. These women quickly made chapattis (loaves) and cooked Dal (pulse). The Khalsa pulled out some fresh carrots from the farms and; munched them all. They had a real good meal. Then they released the Panchas. After giving them some gold sovereigns as cost of foodstuffs and carrots, the Khalsa got marching orders. The alertness and promptness of the Sikh guerrillas was remarkable. They rode their horses and sang martial songs like the spring breeze; they steadily moved forward, till they disappeared out of sight.

It was sunset - time when a battalion of Turkish troops in pursuit reached the village. The commander of the troops called the Panchas to find out if any Sikh group had passed through the village.

The Panchas replied: "Yes Sir. They rested here, bad their meals and left a few hours back.''

Muslim commander: "Who gave them the food?"

Panchas: "The Hindus of the village."

Muslim commander: "Did any Muslim also supply the food?''

Panchas: "No Sir! Do the Muslims ever help the infidels willingly? These Hindus were even delighted when they saw the Sikhs".

Hearing this, the Muslim commander got angry and ordered the arrest of the Hindus. He did not make any inquiry nor called for their explanation. He further ordered that they he beaten up. How unfortunate that the Muslims who had actually supplied the food to the Sikhs were regarded as innocent and the Hindus who had only obeyed their Muslim neighbours m the village were caught in the net' As a result of reckless and severe beating. Some of the Hindus died on the spot. One newly married bride's husband lost his life through severe beating and the lady was asked to marry the Muslim commander. The pious lady requested that she should be killed like her husband. But who was there to listen to her woes? In sheer desperation, the lady moved forward and gave such a blow on the eyes of the commander that he lost his eye and became unconscious. A Pathan soldier promptly drew his sword and aimed a heavy blow on the lady's head, which was severed with a jerk, and the sharp point of his sword pierced the commander's body.

For the Khalsa, things moved smoothly for some days. There was joy and hectic activity in the jungle. Under the shade of trees, these spiritual warriors were quite busy, but on the alert. They followed the daily chores of camp life: some were reciting their prayers, some mending their clothes, some collecting fuel for the Langar (Free kitchen), while some went far and near in search of fruits. Altogether these lion-hearted Sikhs were enjoying themselves in this comfortable and self-supporting shelter. They had forgotten about their parents and their families. Their spirits were imbued with love for and devotion to Guru Gobind Singh. They regarded the preservation and protection of their faith as the goal of their lives. For this reason, they enjoyed their stay in this spot, feeling mentally free like fearless lions.

One evening when the whole group had taken their Langar (dinner) and were retiring to rest, Sardar Sham Singh talked to his companions thus:

Sham Singh: (addressing Surasti) "O respected lady! What is your plan about your own future?"

Surasti "Sir, I will follow your orders."

Sham Singh: "There is no such thing as an order. We shall do our best as you desire. If you like, we can bring your husband and then you both live together here. If you want to be taken to your husband's place, we can do that. But the Moghuls will not leave our pursuit and you will be again under the captivity of Moghuls. Whatever you desire will be done. Balwant Singh is our brother. All the Sikhs love him. He is an ideal Sikh and a great warrior. You are his sister and the entire group here regards you as their sister."

Surasti: "Sir and my brethren! Married life does not appeal to me and as you know my husband bas also renounced me. It was his duty to protect me, which he has refused to do. I do not wish to return to that domestic kind of life again, from which the Guru has pulled me away. My sole aim is that my entire life be dedicated to the service of the Khalsa. If you permit me, I shall live amidst my brothers here. In peacetime, I shall work in the Langar (Free Kitchen); in wartime I shall also stay with you and serve and look after my wounded and disabled brothers. I cannot brook the idea that while my brave brothers should offer their sacrifice for the protection of Sikh Dharma, I should refrain from devoting my life to my religion. I want this gift from you that I should read Gurbani, meditate on the Holy Word and serve the community. If my life is dedicated to my faith, there will be none more fortunate than me.

The eyes of a lion like Sham Singh were full of tears (of joy) and his body shook with emotion. He thought for a while and said:

"Our life is very hard; we have always to face calamity and ordeals. These days we can not move even in our own part of the country. How will you face the sufferings of the group?"

Surasti: "God will give me courage. I shall bear all the sufferings and utilise my time in your service."

Sardar Sham Singh reflected for a while and replied: "You are not an ordinary woman; you are a goddess. Blessed be your birth that you are full of love for religion. O respected sister! May God fulfil your wishes! From my side, there is no restriction or condition. You are free to serve the Khalsa community in any way you like. You make your life useful to others. But you must always have the courage of a man to face this kind of hard life."

Balwant Singh: "O sister! You have expressed your sentiments so truly. You have received the Guru-s blessings. Truly you are the Guru's daughter. Your courage is that of a lioness. God will help you! May the hand of Mai Bhago bless you!"

Surasti: "O my brother! This body is mortal and must perish. If it is used up in the service of the Panth (Sikh community) there is nothing more profitable for my soul than this. Remember how the children of Guru Gobind Singh sacrificed their lives to uphold the teachings of the Guru and how cheerfully Bhai Mani Singh had his body cut at every joint. O brother, if such great souls made such tremendous sacrifices, why should we crave to preserve our bodies. I have seen my parents, relatives and others and realised that all these worldly affections are false. You saved me from the burning pyre and put your life at risk and as such you have not acted like an ordinary brother. There is religious zeal and devotion in you; there is love for the Guru in your heart. Yon have a sense of self-respect. For this reason you have shown so much compassion to me. Now I fed that religion is a very valuable thing for it inspires one to true and noble action and, therefore, why should I turn my back to it. Perhaps you have a notion that a woman is physically weak and as such she must be mentally weak too. Please banish this idea from your mind. The heart of a woman is soft like wax and also hard like a stone; when the religious fervour inspires a woman, she becomes so firm that none can shake her resolve. I am not saying this out of brag or arrogance, but on account of a firm conviction in the Guru's grace. I know his blessings fill me with these sentiments."

Hearing this, Sham Singh and Balwant Singh blessed the lady. It was rather late in the night. All of them went to sleep after saying their prayers.

It was the season of spring and the early dawn was refreshing. The morning prayers made the environment blissful and it seemed that the jungle-camp was a heaven. Early in the morning, Guru Granth Sahib was ceremoniously installed and the congregation was held. First, Sham Singh informed the gathering that Surasti had decided to devote her life to the cause of Sikhism and that she - indoor and outside, in times of peace or war - desired to serve the Sikh community. For this reason, the lady should be baptised with Amrit and made the Khalsa and she should be considered as a spiritual sister. The entire congregation should regard her as a daughter of Guru Gobind Singh and Mata Sahib Devan. She should be treated like a sister. Then she was baptised according to the ceremony of Amrit and given the name of Sunder Kaur and she became popular as Sundri.

The joy of the Khalsa congregation knew no bounds. This was a lucky day when one of their own sisters who had been rescued from the jaws of a lion was ready to devote her life to the cause of Sikhism and would hereafter be sharing the hardships and sorrows of her brethren by dedication to their service for the remaining portion of her life. Every one in this group had been denied the sisterly affection and the tender love and intelligent guidance of women-folk. There was not one who had not severed his connection with his mother, sister and wife just for the preservation of his faith and had been leading the rough and adventurous life of a patriot guerrilla for quite some time.

Dear reader! This young lady's vow of dedication produced such a radical impact on this warrior-group, ever ready for sacrifice for preservation of moral and human values, that one and all began to look upon her as a sister or mother and offered thanks to the Guru. On such occasions the Guru's Word is understood in its true significance, when the human mind, free from sorrow, unconscious gets in tune with the Creator.

O friends of the Sikh religion! Remember this auspicious occasion with devotion and you will for once shed tears of joy! How blessed and blissful were those days! It was a period of Satyuga (The Age of Truth), when seeing a young maiden amidst them, the entire group looked upon her (Sundri) as a holy goddess, as their foster sister with the same brotherly feeling as for their real sister. All of them greeted her with joy and bowed to her with reverence. This was the purity and excellence of character, which the Guru had taught to the Sikhs. That is the reason why the community, overcome by the love of the Guru was ready to sacrifice itself. It was linked with the Guru through devotion and lived on the sustenance of the Holy Name.

When the religious service came to an end, Sundri got busy in cooking food in the free kitchen and later all shared home-made delicious food with joy. In this way, this pious lady spent some time in the service of the Khalsa.

Just as in between the thirty-two hard bony teeth lies the soft and tender tongue which performs vital services for the benefit of teeth, and even so the teeth do not hurt the tongue in any way but on the contrary protect it, in the same way, in the midst of the brave soldiers of Sardar Sham Singh's guerrilla-group, Sundri-the paragon of humility and sweetness-lived peacefully. Both morning and evening, she cooked food in the Free kitchen with helpers; even when all have had their food, she performed sundry tasks and simultaneously recited her prayers mildly. When no food was available or there was shortage of foodstuffs (ration), the Khalsa had to subsist on fruits and sweet herbs and roots available in the jungle. In this work of collecting herbs, Sundri became quite active. In her leisure she went into the jungle looking for the trees with edible fruit.

To the north of the jungle was a hill. One day Sundri climbed to the top and went over to the other side, and a little further lay a village abounding with luxuriant cereal plants. She went to the village and saw some short and active men who happened to be Hindu peasants. Sundri visited this village often to buy a few things, but nobody in the village knew who she was and where she lived.

Once, the Free kitchen of the Khalsa had no rations. The wild fruits and herbs were no longer available and there was no money to buy food for the troops. All the Sikhs were worried about the future as they faced starvation. Sundri had a golden ring studded with a diamond. She thought of selling the ring to buy food and proceeded to the village for this purpose. However, none in the village knew the value of the diamond. One or two traders saw it. But they could not tell whether it was a real or fake diamond. While returning disappointed Sundri saw a boy clad in white dress, sitting as if in despair, at the end of the bazaar. On seeing the beauty of Sundri and her moon-like face he could not but notice her disappointment.

Khatri: "O lady, who are you and why do you look so sad?"

Sundri: "I am sad because I cannot find a buyer for my diamond ring."

Khatri: "Can I see the ring?"

Sundri showed him her ring.

Khatri: "The ring is beautiful. The diamond is also real and it is worth five to seven hundred rupees. But alas! I am like a wingless Koel bird fallen from the mango tree. Alas, I have no money or property, otherwise I would have given you its price." Drawing a deep breath and his eyes filled with tears he said: "O lady May Lord Shiva fulfil your desire. If you take this ring to a city, you will get good money there."

Sundri: "Well, let me leave it to the Guru. But tell, me first, why being a man, you are weeping? Tears are usual with women, but men do not shed tears."

Khatri: "O lady, you are a woman and I am a helpless man, Neither you can alleviate my grief nor I can meet your need. I can not suggest anything. Go your way and rest at home. I guess you are in some trouble, and therefore you want to sell this ring. I say you are lucky because you are hiding yourself from the atrocities of the Moghul rulers. Living in towns or villages is like living in hell.

Sundri: "O my friend; I am quite happy. You may call me a helpless woman, physically weak, but I am strong in mind. Men of my community are brave whose courage is admitted even by the Turks."

Khatri: "Who can face the challenge of the Turks? The Sikhs had risen in revolt and inflicted losses on the Moghuls, but our brothers, may they be damned, are destroying the very footprints of the Sikhs. I am amazed that though the Sikhs are decimated, they somehow keep growing in number to sacrifice themselves for the preservation of their faith. Now recall the latest event! Lakhpatrai, proceeding from Eminabad, is causing havoc among the Sikhs. O Mahadevi! What is happening these days!"

Hearing the words "havoc among the Sikhs," Sundri's face was flushed with indignation, but controlling her temper she said gently: "Please tell me something about yourself."

Khatri: "O respected lady, if you insist, I shall tell you my sad tale. About twenty to thirty miles away from this village and a little remote from the highway is a small Muslim village. There are quite a number of Hindu families living there. There is a fine Shiva temple. Our family has had an ancient lineage. During the reign of Akbar, one of our ancestors held a high office under Raja Todarmal. We had a lot of wealth, which was still, continue to hold. We belong to a high caste among the Khatris. The petty ruler and his soldiers also live m the village. A few days back when I went to the temple to make my offerings, my wife went to the rooftop of our house to dry her hair. The mansion of the Moghul ruler is situated at a high elevation. From his house, he spotted my wife and enquired about her. He then summoned me from the temple and remarked that the Moghul emperor at Delhi had got information that I bad some royal jewellery from Akbar's treasury in my house and if I did not surrender it, I would be imprisoned. I replied, "It is ages since Akbar died: my ancestors have also passed away. There is no proof that I have any ancient jewellery with myself." He reprimanded me and called me an infidel and said: "How dare you tell lies before the Faithful (Muslim)? Get away from my sight." He signalled his sepoys who grabbed me and took me to jail. He also kept a guard over my house. Next day, he sent a message to the effect that if I surrendered my wife, I would be released. On hearing this, I was extremely distressed. Alas! How could I tolerate the idea of my wife being forcibly taken by another man!"

The Khatri continued: "When I regained my senses, I offered my golden bangle and rings to the jailer for my release. He accepted them and I was freed. I went to my house only to find that my wife had already been abducted by the ruler. He had also ordered the soldiers to keep my house under strict watch. I felt desolate and utterly helpless and I left the village and passed two days in grief and sobbing. Soon through a trick, I obtained information that my wife had not yet lost her chastity and was confined in jail. There was a strong rumour also that she had entered the ruler's harem (women's quarters). I passed one more day in disguise and came here to find out if some one could help me to rescue my wife. I would have welcomed death, but somehow I still like to live, and would not die."

Sundri: "O calamity-stricken friend! Suicide is a great sin. If you want to rescue your wife, come with me. My brothers will help you in recovering your wife. If you are sure that your wife has accepted the Muslim faith of her abductor and you do not wish to meet her, my brother will provide you some religious or charitable work so that your life may be useful to the community."

Khatri: "O lady; your words are so sweet and reassuring that they have brought comfort to my ailing heart. They are like straws which save a drowning person. I have no way of protecting myself or finding some means of regaining my wife. I find darkness of despair all around me. Calamities have crushed me. For what sin is our country suffering such atrocities? Why has such a misfortune overwhelmed us? Where have our gods and goddesses vanished? Why do not the saints and prophets come to our rescue? The gods themselves are in distress. O Shiva! O Vishnu! You all seem to be under a cloud! What havoc has been wrought to us! Why is it that the sinful are not destroyed? Why their misdeeds are not prevented? Woe, betide me! Why this injustice? What for?"

Such outbursts of inner agony and the deep frustration of the Khatri boy shook the very soul of Sundri. Gathering her composure, she replied "O noble soul! All misfortune is the result of neglecting the true worship of God and engaging oneself in useless ritual. With firm faith in God, all man's tasks are accomplished. The children of one God are like real brothers. When brothers join together, they become a power to reckon with. Disunity and selfishness are the flaws of our countrymen. Our factionalism is a great malady and we are all suffering for it."

The Khatri lost in his sorrow sat like a statue. Sundri grabbed his arm and shook him. As she accompanied him out of the village, she said: "These are difficult and evil times. The Sikhs live in isolation and keep hidden and as such we cannot tell others of their hideouts. I shall, therefore, tie a bandage over your eyes and when we reach a safe place, I shall remove the bandage." The boy agreed to it. Sundri bandaged his eyes and leading him through a difficult path-way in the jungle reached her habitation after some time.

As she reached the camp, her heart was gladdened to see her people so joyfully occupied. The cauldrons were brimming with hot food over the piles of burning fuel. She could feel the appetising smell of the cooking of delicious food. She asked a Sikh what was cooking in the pots. He replied that meat was being cooked. He further explained: "We had no rations. As such the group leader and Balwant Singh had gone for hunting and killed a flock of deer. That venison is being prepared for the Sikhs. Where have you been? You have been out for a long time."

Sundri replied with a smile: "O brother, you did not have any serious occupation for many days. I had gone out to find some work for you."

Sikh: "Have you got any task for me?"

Sundri (facing the Khatri): "Look at this man."

By this time Balwant Singh arrived and asked his sister who the man was. Sundri told him the whole story. Then the two Sardars took the Khatri aside. Sardar Sham Singh's heart was moved to hear the whole story. He could see through Sundri's devotion and her resolve to sell her ring to help her brethren in distress and his heart was full of gratitude. He addressed Sundri: "You are really a goddess." Then he asked an attendant to - take the Khatri to the Free kitchen and there to untie his bandage and give him food. As a precaution, he told Balwant Singh to keep an eye on the new comer; perhaps he could be a spy and as such his talk, actions and movements should be watched. He sent another Sikh to the village to verify the information given by the Khatri.

Sundri had not forgotten her days spent in jail. She could visualise the feelings and the plight of the Khatri's wife and how every minute was precious in securing her release. She desired that every effort be made as early as possible to protect the honour of the helpless lady, but she could not forestall or force a decision which was to be taken by their leader in this case. She knew that his wisdom and diplomacy was greater than that of any other member of the group. The entire Sikh community valued the wisdom and guidance of their leader - Sardar Sham Singh.

Three days after the occurrence of the above event, the village wherein the Khatri's wife was held in captivity was full of activity as usual in the morning. People were busy making their purchases in the shops. Soon it was noontime. Women got busy in their homes preparing their lunch. There was a joyful scene in the mansion of the local Muslim ruler. He was sitting in his court. There were a few subordinate officials with him. Some courtiers were gossiping in the distance. Wine was being served: delicacies were laid out for all. Some were busy drinking wine, while others were busy joking among themselves.

There was a lot of bustle in the female apartments. Six Begums (wives of the ruler) were seated on a carpet. Slave-girls were in attendance. The ladies were extremely beautiful; it looked as if they were candidates in a beauty competition. They looked very handsome in their silken clothes and costly jewellery. In their midst was one woman who looked quite sad. Her beautiful dress and valuable jewellery and sullen looks gave an impression of a newly caught maina (starling) kept in a golden cage. All other ladies were either talking or laughing or joking, but this one was dead quiet. At times, she heaved a sigh and tears dropped from her eyes. Others called her out but she never looked at them. One of the ladies remarked "She is a new sparrow in a cage. She will get used to it after some time."

Lunch was announced and soon a sheet of cloth was spread. Different dishes were laid out. After uttering words invoking God's grace, they started eating. This quiet lady, however, maintained her silence. When the other ladies pestered her and urged to take food, she started sobbing and in a dim voice prayed: "O Shiva, destroy them!" When the ladies harassed her too much she cried loudly and she could be heard all over. All were filled with rage because she had spoilt the enjoyment of their lunch. Almost all were ready to beat her up, but one of them took pity on her and said: "O sister, let her alone. She cannot help but cry. When I was brought here, my plight was worse than hers. Slowly she will get used to this place."

For a while the ladies held their peace, but later they realised that she needed some food. Some began to persuade her to eat, but this helpless lady was not consoled. Suddenly one of them pounced on her and held her hands and tried to force some mutton - curry into her mouth. At this time, the Muslim ruler, who has drunk, came on the spot. He thought that the ladies of his harem were acting as if jealous of the new comer. He was enraged and showered blows on them and took away the Khatri young lady to his room. He was out of his senses and he began to ran' and rave. At this time, the miserable lady thought that there was no chance of her being able to preserve her chastity and therefore it was time to end her life. She thought that as she was sitting near the window, it would be wise for her to jump down, but alas, death seldom befriends the unfortunate ones. The ruler got wild on account of his frustration and with eyes red with anger, he caught her by her wrist and was about to say something nasty, when his voice gurgled and he faltered.

What had happened to him? What was the Nawab going to utter? Why had his voice failed? Some strong hand had grabbed the Nawab by the neck, with the result that he was unable to utter what he wanted to. At this time, a tumult arose in the town as if a battle had started. In an instant, five or six people went upstairs. The Nawab was captured. The Begums were motionless like idols; the slaves disappeared behind secret doors. The Hindu lady shouted: "O God, help me as you once saved the honour of Dropadi." In an instant, a lady and a Hindu boy came up. When the lady saw the Hindu, she was overjoyed. The Hindu approached the imprisoned Hindu lady who immediately remarked: "Please, keep away from me. I have strayed from Hinduism!" Hearing this, the lady who had accompanied the Hindu youth asked her: "Have you lost your chastity?" She replied: "No, I am quite perfect in my virtue, but Muslim food had been given to me by force." Hearing this, the lady who was no other than Sundri said: "Dear sister, you are great who inspite of having been forced through all these sufferings have preserved your chastity!"

One foolish Sikh wanted to remove the ornaments of the Begums, but Balwant Singh quickly stopped him, saying. "It is not in keeping with Sikh religion to harass a woman." Even Muslim historians have pointed out this characteristic of the Sikhs. Observing such maturity and wisdom of her brother, Sundri was much pleased.

In a few minutes, the Sikhs tied the Nawab's hands and feet, and brought him down. Sardar Sham Singh had ransacked the treasury of the Nawab and loaded his horses with the booty. The entire force of the Khalsa took upon themselves to punish the Moghul ruler and redress the complaints of the oppressed Hindu and poor Muslim citizens. They had taken some steps to render the bodyguards of the Nawab ineffective by locking them up. They punished all the guilty ones. The Khalsa had acted with such fury and alertness that no one could even dream that a thunderbolt would come through the clouds. This was the achievement of the special skill and strategy of the Khalsa and their sharp shooting riflemen. The helpless Khatri lady and the Nawab were taken by Sardar Sham Singh and Balwant Singh to the Khatri's house. They spread a carpet and sat on it, Now the Sikh troops collected outside the town, About twenty soldiers joined Sardar Sham Singh. Sundri sat with the Khatri's wife who had been rescued. Sham Singh ordered that all the Brahmins of the town be summoned. Two Sikhs went out to implement the order. The Khatri entered his house to see if any of his belongings had been looted, but to his good luck, nothing had been lost.

At this time, an old woman supporting herself on a staff and shedding tears came there and in a feeble voice murmured: "O you Sikh warrior, may your rule last for ever. You are like a saviour sent by God. Give solace to my heart. May God bless you!"

Hearing her cry for help, Sundri's heart melted She asked the old lady: "What is the matter?"

Old Woman: "O my daughter! What shall I tell you? The ruler who is sitting here tied like a thief has done a great injustice to me. I had only one son whom I brought up with difficulty and prayers. Unfortunately one day, he happened to pass along the palace and out of curiosity peeped into one of the windows-where there was nothing-but this Nawab saw him and got into a rage and the boy-a son of a destitute like me-was beaten to death. I made several entreaties to him, but his stony heart would not relent. O God's agent, dispense justice to me!"

Hearing this, the ruler's face became pale with shame. The hearts of the Sikhs melted on hearing the old woman's tragic tale. Sham Singh thought for a while and questioned four or five neighbours on the veracity of the woman's complaint. They confirmed her version of the event.

After a minute, a young Muslim woman, carrying a child barely covered with rags in her lap, came up crying. Looking at her, Sham Singh asked: "O lady, why have you come here?" She replied: "I regard you as a messenger of God sent to dispense justice. My husband was a courtier of this ruler, and we were quite affluent. One day, being drunk, he quarrelled with the Nawab. At that very moment the Nawab got him murdered and looted our house and made me a beggar. Now there is not a grain of corn in my house. I beg for food but hardly get anything. What shall I do? I will prefer death to this kind of life. You appear to be a scourge of tyrants. Do help me-a woman in distress."

Hearing this, the Sikhs were overcome by a feeling of hatred for the Nawab. Sham Singh got a bag of money from the Nawab's treasury and handed it over to the lads saying. "Go and utilise this money and live in comfort."

Seeing this, a Brahmin said in a faint voice: "The Sikh Sardar does not take a mature view of the situation. Look, he has given money to a Muslim lady. The Sardar who heard the Brahmin's remark retorted. "Listen, O Brahmin! We do not discriminate on grounds of caste or religion, nor do we bear ill will to any one-whether a Hindu or a Muslim. Our Gurus bore no grudge against anyone; the whole world is to us like a family. We have to uproot injustice and deal fairly with every one. We have to punish the rulers who are oppressing the people; punishing them means uprooting injustice."

Brahmin said: "Then why do you destroy the Turks? Why do you not surrender to them?"

Sham Singh: "Panditji, our opposition to the Turks and the Pathans is not due to their being Muslims. Our objective in uprooting the Moghul rule is that as rulers, they are tyrants causing suffering to their subjects. They are not dispensing justice: they kill the innocent and the helpless; they collect taxes but do not protect the people. They interfere in religious matters; they forcibly destroy other religions. These are serious crimes and in no way form part of the duties of the ruler. It is for this reason that we want to destroy their tyrannical rule. We have no enmity against any caste or faith. Our Gurus had come to propagate true religion we are devoted to their ideas, and according to their tenets we are destroying those who perpetrate injustice and cause suffering to God's creation. Look, the rulers are tyrannical, violent and power-hungry; they are neither afraid of God or of their masters in Lahore or Delhi. The sovereign power of Delhi is declining; the situation in Lahore is worsening from day to day.

After hearing these arguments, the Brahmin kept quiet.

In the meantime, the remaining Brahmins and Khatris of the village who had been summoned arrived there.

Sardar Sham Singh addressed them as follows:

"Look, this lady has firmly maintained her chastity; God has protected her honour. But the Turks forcibly imposed their religion on her by compelling her to take mutton-curry. Now take compassion on her and admit her back to the Hindu fold, and regard her as one of your own. Then we can bid you farewell. But the Brahmins and the Khatris replied: "Sir, this is not possible; our old tradition stands against it. Hindu religion is a fragile thread; it easily breaks. You know that a fallen fruit cannot be rejoined to the tree."

Hearing these cynical views, Sundri explained to them with great affection, as follows: "It is none of the faults of the lady but rather you should give her credit for her courage and welcome her back into your fold. Do not discard one who seeks your support. Neglecting those who seek your refuge is a great sin. It is immoral not to help the helpless."

But Sundri's gentle words produced no effect on those Brahmins. Balwant Singh and Sher Singh also explained to them their correct and rational views, but the conservative traditional Hindu beliefs could not be resolved from their minds, namely that Hindu Dharma is a fragile thread, and that a Hindu is born as a Hindu and no one can be converted to Hinduism by some ceremony. This idea had taken deep roots in their thinking. Even after seeing the difficult situation in which they were placed, the Brahmins did not change their views. Observing this rigidity, the Khatri and his wife entreated them several times but without success.

Sham Singh's patience came to an end. He ordered that Karah Parsad be prepared. As soon as it was ready, Ardas (supplication) was recited. He then ordered the Khatri's wife to distribute the Karah Parsad and declared that those who did not eat it would be thrashed. The Brahmins were scared by this announcement. Sundri got excited: she got up and took the Khatri aside. She suggested to him to give a gold sovereign to each of the Brahmins and then touch their feet one by one and then they would take Karah Parsad The Khatri followed her advice. He started giving one sovereign each; then his wife distributed Karah Parsad to ail of them. They ate it and after blessing the gathering left for their homes.

Sardar Sham Singh ordered the Sikhs to pack up and leave, but the Khatri and his wife humbly said: "We do not want to stay in the village; we want to ' go with you and we shall serve your group. The reasons for this decision are, firstly, if we stay here, we shall always live in fear, but if we accompany you we shall feel self-reliant and bold. Secondly when the Turkish sepoys come here, they will give vent to their anger by punishing us. Now that you are about to leave, we want to accompany you. We shall have the chance to serve philanthropists like you, our lives will be put to some good use. Please take all our wealth so that it may be of some benefit to the Khalsa. Here it will be of no use, for we have no children."

After some discussion, the Khatri's request was accepted. The Khalsa forces decided to proceed towards the dense jungle, but before leaving, the Sikh Sardar collected the residents of the neighbouring two villages and declared: "This ruler has been oppressing the people; he has taken excessive revenue from the Zamindars (landowners); he has looted a number of rich men and pushed them out of their houses naked he has murdered a lot of f innocent people and tortured harmless people and as a ruler has, like a thorny bush, hurt one and all. Instead of dispensing justice, he has wasted his time in drink and debauchery and the people who were under his charge have been subjected to extreme misery. For all these crimes, he will now receive his due punishment." Immediately two scavengers threw a rope round the Nawab's neck and hanged him on the tree. Seeing him writhing in pain, the Hindu and Muslim on-lookers felt relieved. However, two evil-minded Mullas who were his servants and abettors in his crimes felt sad at his death.

Soon after reaching the next jungle camp, the Khalsa performed the baptismal ceremony of Amrit for the Khatri and his wife. The Khatri was given the new name of Dharam Singh and his wife was renamed Dharam Kaur. Earlier, the Khatri was a gentle and docile man and had become further weakened by the unhappy events mentioned above, but now he began to think of his future, and influenced by the heroic company, he became full of hope and joy. After taking Amrit, he felt strong in body and mind and became fond of walking fearlessly through the jungle. His wife in the company of Sundri served m the Langar and began memorising Gurbani. One day, there was no salt in the Free Kitchen. Sundri and Dharam Kaur proceeded towards the hills on the other side of which, lay a village they had visited many times. It was noontime. Sundri like a fawn ran towards the village. She purchased salt and spices and proceeded towards her home. After covering some distance and slightly away from the pathway, she heard a cry for help. She stopped for a while and proceeded in the direction from where the mournful sound was coming. As she looked ahead, she saw a bleeding person lying on the grass. She approached him and looked at him carefully. There was a sword-injury on his shoulder and his body was full of small stabs all over. Blood freely flowed from his wounds. Seeing the terrible condition of the man, this bold daughter of Mata Sahib Devan did not lose her nerve. She tore a piece of her own scarf and removed the blood and cleaned the wound. She told Dharam Kaur to go out in search of water. With great courage, she bandaged the wound with the man's turban. In the meantime, Dharam Kaur brought her scarf fully soaked in water, which Sundri rinsed into the mouth of the wounded man and also cleaned his hands and feet. Very soon, the man regained consciousness and uttered the words "Allah! Allah!" mournfully: and later opened his eyes.

The wounded person was amazed when he observed for himself that he was being cared for in such a nice way during this plight. He wanted to speak, but could not do so on account of shyness. Sundri thought that if the man was left there in this condition; he would die. She also felt that if the -man was taken to the village she might get into trouble. There was another alternative, namely of taking him into the jungle but it was difficult to carry him and moreover being a Turk, her brothers might object and call her crazy. She consulted Dharam Kaur, and both agreed that the wounded Turk should be taken to their camp for treatment. Undoubtedly, a Sikh's duty is to serve others, no matters what others may think of it.

With great difficulty and great effort, the two brave ladies carried the man over the pathway and stopped halfway through the jungle for a little rest. They proceeded with their heavy burden and at sunset they reached the camp, where under a Banyan tree, they spread some grass and covered it with a clean sheet and placed the wounded man on it. They fed him gently.

When Sundri told her brother about this event and when Sham Singh came to know of it, both rebuked her for her indiscretion. They explained to her their point thus: "Though compassion is one of the obligations of Sikh Dharma, the times are so critical that we must protect ourselves against the machinations of the Turks, who had crafty ways and had sworn to destroy the Sikhs. It was futile to expect any good from them. If the Sikhs had been in a better situation, we would not have bothered about this case. In such a calamitous period, survival is our main objective."

Sundri replied: "Brothers, I admit my mistake and I shall not act hastily again. I am sorry I have brought this man, but in future I shall be careful. If he dies, there will be nothing to worry about; if he survives, we shall take him blind-folded and leave him at some distant place."

After assuring her brothers, Sundri got busy with her routine. Every day whenever she could spare time, she would serve him and dress his wounds and give him food. After a month's care, the Moghul youth's wounds got healed and he started moving about. He would thank Sundri for her services and would speak highly of her to others. He was, however, greatly amazed to observe (from his personal experience) that the Sikhs who are so strong and rough are full of the milk of human kindness. Such qualities, which are poles apart like water and fire, are found in Sikhs alone.

Sardar Sham Singh had ordered four Sikhs to keep a watch over the movements of the Moghul so that he may not run away and then inform their enemies of their location. After sometime when he had perfectly recovered, he sought permission to leave. It was decided that his eyes be bandaged with a piece of cloth and then led by a Sikh an e at some distant place Even so, Sham Singh had his own misgivings and apprehensions that all would not go well with the Sikhs, hereafter.

After a few days, just about sunset time, when Sundri was returning from the village, and was crossing the pathway to her destination, she heard some one shout "stop" As she turned round, she saw four armed Turkish sepoys coming from behind a tree. She was taken aback at this ambush, but she put up a brave face. In a moment they surrounded her. Sundri's hand instantly reached the handle of her dagger, which was hidden under her scarf, and she mustered courage and asked: "Who are you and what do you want?"

Sepoy: Tell us the place where the Sikhs are?

Sundri: I cannot tell where they are.

Sepoy: If you do not tell us, we shall outrage your modesty.

Sundri: One who dares to touch me will be killed.

Sepoy: We will kill you first.

Sundri: I do not care.

As Sundri looked around, she saw one sepoy approaching her. As he came close, Sundri recognised him as the Turk whom she had picked up in a wounded condition near that spot earlier and whom she had tended in the camp for a month till his recovery. She felt hopeful that this sepoy would come to her rescue and would certainly help her. As he faced Sundri, he saluted her, The other sepoys stepped aside. He respectfully asked her about her health and well being. Sundri also politely asked him: "Who are these sepoys and why have they surrounded me and spoken so rudely?"

The Turk replied: "O lady: you do not know who I am. Firstly, let me tell yon about myself so that you can understand the situation. I am the servant of the Nawab (ruler) who had captured you from' your village. Two months back I got wounded while fighting with a Sikh and nearing death when you passed by and took me to your camp. First I did not recognise you, but after a few days I realised that you were the same lady whom our Nawab had captured, but you were rescued by the Sikhs from the mosque. When I reached my home after my recovery due to your care, I spoke about it to the Nawab. He insisted that I should tell him the place where you live or bring you back to him for which I would be rewarded with five thousand rupees. If I did not do so, he would kill me. For many days, I wandered in the jungle and the forest but I could not find your habitation. Then I remembered that you had taken me wounded from this spot. So I thought that sooner or later you would pass this way. Therefore, I decided to stay at this spot. Since many days I and five sepoys have been waiting for this ambush to capture yon. God, the Merciful, be thanked for he has fulfilled my desire. Now I request you that you should show some concern for your youth and beauty. Why are you wasting your time with the homeless Sikhs? You work like a slave from morning till night and get no return. This is the time to enjoy the comforts of life. When will you have the best things of life. Now this powerful Nawab will be your bonded S1ave. You will live in a palace and lord over people. Enjoy life, come with me, there is a horse for you to ride upon."

Sundri felt nervous; her heart was depressed, but she spoke with confidence: "Is this the return for my service to you? Is this the compensation for my goodness?

Turk: "I appreciate your goodness to me and I will not do anything sinister to harm you. I want to change you from a beggar to a princess, from an infidel to a believer. To fool the infidels is permissible. Now be quick and waste no time."

Sundri. "Though you may not even recite the Namaz (Muslim prayer) by mistake, but you will attribute all your tyranny to the command of your religion. O ungrateful person! Your values are absolutely wrong. Remember that your master will not get what he desires. r am a lioness and not a low or vulgar woman to be lured by temptation or greed. I shall give up my life, but not my faith."

Turk: "We very well know your obstinacy and arrogance. Now remember that unlike last time, we shall give you no respite. As soon as you reach the city, you will have to enter the Nawab's house."

Sundri: "Well, but who can dare to take me from here. First think and then speak. r regret once again that you have such a stony heart in which there is not an iota of gratitude or compassion. As a human being perpetrating this injustice, does it not cross your mind who is the one you are acting against. Listen to me attentively. If you leave me alone, God will bless you if you do not leave me; r will sacrifice my life. The choice is yours."

Turk: "I do not like both of them I like to make you the wife of my master." As soon as the Turk uttered these words, one sepoy grabbed Sundri by her left arm, but with great agility and promptness, this brave lady drew her dagger and pushed it deep into the neck of her grappler. It was almost a miracle, even lightning could not act faster. The wounded sepoy bled on the ground and he struggled between life and death.

Seeing this, the another sepoy caught her right hand in which she held the dagger, from behind and the third sepoy caught her from the waist and lifted her up; the forth sepoy grabbed her left arm. Behind the trees was a buggy-like palanquin with a few bearers. Instantly Sundri was thrown into the palanquin the doors thereof were bolted and once again she became a prisoner of the Turks. In a moment, the tyrants vanished from the scene.

Soon after Sundri had left her brothers in the jungle and proceeded to the village, Sardar Sham Singh, Balwant Singh and other leaders assembled to consider the proposition that it was not safe to stay at the spot which had provided them shelter for some days. The rumours current at that time about Lakhu's depredations were horrifying. Right at this moment, a Sikh named Bijla Singh arrived in the camp. Sham Singh recognised him and after greeting him asked the news of the other Sikh guerrilla-warriors. Bijla Singh told him that the Khalsa had sent him to inform them that Lakhpatrai had wrought havoc among the Sikhs. Genocide was the order of the day. Sacred places were being desecrated and at many places, religious books had been set on fire and there was a great commotion in the entire country. For this reason, Sardar Jassa Singh, Hari Singh, Sukha Singh and other Sardars had decided to hold a meeting, because Lakhpat was scouring the marsh-lands of the Ravi river and other places of hiding of the Khalsa and therefore the Khalsa groups were leaving for the hills, and as such they should also proceed in that direction. The enemy troops were also proceeding in the direction of the present camp and it would not be possible for them to stay there anymore in peace.

Hearing this news, Sham Singh replied: "Well, Balwant Singh, tell the troops to wind up the camp. Now it is sunset and the Sikhs should be ready to march early at dawn, while the stars still shine in the sky. Bijla Singh, please tell me where the Khalsa is to hold the meeting."

Bijla Singh: "Sir, the Khalsa leaders are proceeding towards the dense forest near the bank of the lake of Kahnuwan."

Balwant Singh: "Do we proceed through the forests or on the high-way?"

Bijla Singh: "Let us proceed by the main road. The Turks of this region are ignorant of the situation. After about four or five days, the Turks will also reach here."

Balwant Singh: "All right".

After this, Balwant Singh went to the Free Kitchen and not finding Sundri there, began to inquire about her. Dharam Kaur informed him that Sundri had gone to the neighbouring village. Balwant Singh was unaware of the plight of his sister. He did not suspect any mischief. He left the Free Kitchen to inform his colleagues of the decision of the winding up of the camp. Then he visited Sardar Sham Singh. At that time Bijla Singh was narrating to those assembled the atrocities committed by Lakhpatrai against the Sikhs. He addressed them further as follows: When Lakhpatrai got the news that his brother-Jaspatrai in his expedition for the destruction of the Sikhs was opposed by the Sikhs and killed in battle, his face flushed with rage like a fire turning into a conflagration and he declared: "I shall prove myself a Khatri by destroying the very seed of the Sikhs. Then he wailed before the Nawab of Lahore and told him that during his regime, his brother Was killed by the Sikhs and nobody had come to his aid. He affirmed, "Now I have vowed to annihilate the Sikhs' totally." Then the Nawab replied: "If you can do this work, there is nothing better for you to achieve. You know that Yahya Khan is more serious than even his father to destroy the Sikhs. Take the artillery, ammunitions and the troops-whatever you require-and destroy the Sikhs root and branch.'- What more then did Lakhpat need? Thence-forward, he started the genocide of the Sikhs in Lahore. Any Sikh who happened to pass through any of the city-gates was captured and beheaded. This continued for two or three days and many Sikhs were killed. They were not soldiers but civilians. Simple young Sikh folk with long flowing hair who had come from villages to Lahore to attend to their daily business became victims of the wrath and sudden killing. Many were imprisoned and killed and some kept for conversion. Their women-folk waited for them at home. Not even one renounced his faith. They sacrificed their lives with smiles on their faces."

"It is reported that one day Bhai Harkirat Singh along with his wife and son reached Lahore. They did not know that atrocities were being committed in the city. As they were at some distance from the Golden Mosque, Lakhpat came riding from the opposite direction, When he saw this Sikh family, he shouted 'How come, Sikhs are walking in broad day-light in the city of Lahore? O God, when will the wasps' nest be destroyed? His sepoys captured the Sikh family. When they came near Diwan Lakhpatrai, the Sikh asked: "For what crime have I been arrested?"

Lakhpatrai answered: "It is a crime to be a Sikh and you have been arrested for it. Either give up your religion or be ready to die."

Harkirat Singh: "Well, do as you please. This injustice is intolerable but unfortunately there is no remedy for tyranny. Might is right. Here I am, ready to die."

Lakhpat was wonder-struck to see the martial stuff of which the Sikhs are made. They never cared for their lives.

It was almost the middle of the day, the market place was getting crowded. Numerous people were trembling with fear, but Lakhpat was adamant and repeated his order: 'Go and kill the boy first and then the lady and then this man. Alas! Rama! I should kill the cruel Sikhs. They killed my dear brother'. At this time, some one from the crowd shouted: 'Shame! Shame'! Lakhpat could not hear this insult and galloped away. These three persons were killed that day and their bodies left on the spot.

Sham Singh was much grieved to hear of Harkirat Singh's cold-blooded murder, because in those days there were very few scholars among the Sikhs preaching the Sikh tenets to them. Harkirat Singh was a great theologian, not an armchair one, but a real and true devotee. He was held in high esteem by the Sikh community. For this reason, Sham Singh felt this loss and declared in a rage: "We shall punish Lakhpat and set an example in the Punjab. He will have to suffer for killing an innocent and virtuous person so mercilessly."

Bijla Singh: "Sir, what more shall I tell you! Unknown and unprecedented calamities have befallen us; we feel our protective ramparts have become our enemies. We now have only the refuge of the Guru. He alone will protect us. Our enemies have left no stone unturned to destroy our race. Look, a few Sikhs came out of their hiding and mustering courage demanded the dead bodies of Bhai Harkirat Singh, his wife and his son and later cremated them. There were only eight or nine Sikhs. When they returned to the city, Lakhpat's sepoys who were prowling about captured them and butchered them to pieces.

Sham Singh: "Well, so what? Lakhpat is inviting his own doom. We heard yesterday that Lakhu first ordered the killing of his own Sikh employees. That was the night of the new moon. Diwan Kauramal, Kashmira Mal, Lachhi Ram, Surat Singh Diwan, Dile Ram, Hari Mal, Bahlu Mal and other leaders and representatives of the city went to Lakhu and pleaded the innocence of his employees and appealed for their release, but he paid no heed to them and got all his employees executed".

Bijla Singh: "This is quite true. Now listen to another sad tale. For some time, the Darbar Sahib (Golden Temple, Amritsar) was not under guard. One day a spy told Lakhpat that a Sikh celebration (Gurpurab)was to be held shortly when the Sikhs would gather in large numbers. There would be no better occasion than this to annihilate the Sikhs. Immediately Lakhpat contacted the Nawab of Lahore and made a scheme to accomplish this gory task, but this information reached Diwan Kaura Mal and Diwan Surat Singh. They tried their best to persuade Lakhpat to give up this scheme. They explained to him thus: "After all, Sikhs are our own kith and kin; they are like our limbs. To bear enmity to them is suicidal. If a Hindu gets another Hindu killed it will be calamitous. The Sikhs killed your brother; we also regret it, but consider the fact that he had a hand in the arrest of Bhai Mani Singh who was captured and cut to pieces, joint by joint, by the orders of Muslim ruler and for this reason the Sikhs were opposed to him. Well, if you have the grievance (of your brother's murder), it is legitimate for you to kill your brother's murderer in return, or to fight with the Sikh guerrillas. Innocent men, women and helpless children have given you no cause for their punishment. A pious and scholarly man like Bhai Harkirat Singh was murdered along with his wife and son in cold blood. What did you get out of it? Even now we have no man like him and moreover you still carry the dagger of revenge in your hand. Well let the past be forgotten and buried. Now stop this genocide and give up the idea of going to Amritsar for taking revenge on the Sikhs."

Lakhpat: "Brothers, you tell the truth, but the wearer knows where the shoe pinches. I feel the sudden loss of my brother. Who else can feel it like me?"

Surat Singh: 'This is true. But by these killings you are not going to get your brother back alive.'

Kaura Mal: 'O Diwan, just think for a while. Now is the time to stop killing. Enough havoc has already been done.'

Lakhpat: 'Alas! I can not bear my loss in patience. Do not get upset. I cannot reconcile myself and forget it.'

The two men argued with Lakhpat for a long time but he did not relent.

Thereafter these two persons (Kaura Mal and Surat Singh) hurried to Amritsar and reaching there informed the organisers that Lakhpat was determined to order mass massacre of the Sikhs. Any one who went to Harmander Sahib for the celebration would be killed. Therefore no one should enter the Harmander the next day. Then they posted their men outside the city on the highways, so that they might turn hack any Sikh who wanted to enter the city on the plea that entry to the Harmander Sahib had been officially banned. While the religious minded leaders accomplished the task of warning the people, Lakhpat, on the other hand, stealthily posted a large number of sepoys around the ample. He sat on the balcony of a nearby building and waited for further developments.

Early next morning, Diwan Kaula Mal and Surat Singh rode towards the temple to see what Lakhpat had decided to do, and when they approached the temple, the blissful music of the songs of the devoted Sikhs and their women were singing, fell gently like rain on their ears. Both the Diwans were distressed, as they knew Lakhpat's evil plans. At the same time,, they wondered what stuff are these Sikhs made of. They fear not death. Their faith is firm But the pity is that Lakhu is determined to bathe in the blood of these brave men.

Reflecting for a while, these two men tied their horses and turned towards the tents. They were now near the gate-way of the temple, when they saw a young woman whose beauty rivalled the full moon. She had a soiled cloth on her head and a nine-year child holding her fingers beside her. Both were reciting their prayers.

Advancing towards them, Diwan Kaura Mal asked them: "Where are you going?"

Lady(Bowing to him with folded hands): "We are going to Sri Darbar Sahib."

Surat Singh's face was flushed with indignation and he asked them: "From where have you come? Did no one stop you from coming here?'

With great confidence the lady answered: 'I am coming from Tung. Two men met me on the way and told me not to go to the temple, for we would be killed. So I turned back and changed my route and have come here stealthily through the fields."

Kaura Mal: "Do you not want to live?"

Lady: "There is nothing dearer than one's life, hut ultimately it will also come to an end. Faith will outlive life. Therefore, it is not proper to sacrifice one's faith for preserving one's life."

Surat Singh: "If you would not have come to the temple, your religion would not have been endangered."

Lady: "Sir, to keep away on this Gurpurab celebration from the sight of the Guru is despicable. Where else can I find refuge? I do not care for my life, for it will not last long and will ultimately part my company, but my religion will be with me forever. When all others leave me, my faith will abide with me."

Surat Singh: "O Lady! How come you have so much courage? Your youth is meant for enjoying comforts. Why have you become too deeply religious-to the point of renunciation-at this age?"

Lady: "Guru Sahib has caught me by the arm and made me his devotee. Well, I know nothing, yet the murder of Harkirat Singh is fresh in my mind."

Kaura Mal: "That poor fellow was also killed. He is dead and gone."

Lady: "My God! Do the saints ever die? They return to their homes. Who of woman born can kill the saints?"

Kaura Mal: "Well, are you bent upon going to Harmander?"

Lady: "As the Lord wills!"

Kaura Mal: "Why are you not accompanied by your husband?"

Lady: "Sir, he is dead and gone to God's Abode."

Surat Singh: "Lady, listen to us and go back and save your skin and that of your child. Lakhpat is sitting over there and he will never let yon go back alive."

Lady: "Well, you keep away."

Surat Singh: "Have you no pity for this child?"

Lady: "I have compassion for him and therefore I have brought him with myself otherwise I should have left him at home. I thought I would not go to Heaven alone; I should take apart and parcel of myself also to that holy place. After my death, possibly he may give up his faith; he is of a tender age."

Kaura Mal: "O God! It is marvellous! What is that stuff of which the hearts of the Sikhs are made! O the pity of it! Will Lakhpat really kill these pious people?"

Lady: "This is the blessing of Amrit (Sikh baptism) and the grace of the Guru. If you love the Sikhs so much as appears from your actions, please prevent Lakhpat from committing this sin, and fight against him. If there is any problem, inform the Khalsa living in any of the nearby Jungles."

This thing appealed to the two Diwans very much. They could not prevent the lady from attending the celebration which she felt was right. She began reciting her' prayers and proceeded to Harmander Sahib.

Both Diwan Kaura mal and Diwan Surat Singh having decided on this course of action-that they would protect the Sikhs even at the cost of their lives-reached their camp and collecting twenty-five to thirty riders, went to Lakhpat and explained to him to stop his planned massacre.

It was agreed that Lakhu should have some more time for thinking over the matter. Later on, Lakhu told his commander in private: 'I am going and I will issue an order that the Sikhs should not be killed, hut you should come hack and secretly deploy some of your sepoys so that they would capture and kill the Sikhs.'

The fact was that Lakhu wanted to hide his deception. Along with his troops he left the place in company of Diwan Kauramal and Surat Singh. The two Diwans feeling assured by Lakhu's promise went to their homes. But soon thereafter Lakhu marched back with fifty of his horsemen to the Harmander. The prayers at the temple had just ended. It was now time for the dispersal of the congregation. Some actually had left the temple, while others were about to leave. Lakhu's sepoys rounded up all of them including women and children and cut them to pieces like carrots. About noontime the news of the massacre reached Surat Singh. He and Kauramal reached the place where the corpses lay piled up. They wept bitterly when they saw the gory scene. Soon getting together a few men and collecting some fuel, they cremated the bodies on ths spot. That very day they sent their secret messengers to the Sikh Jathedars (Leaders) to be vigilant and cautious. They sent an urgent warning to them that Lakhu was after their blood, and that they should take steps to protect themselves. They also sent some money to the Sikh groups for their expenses.

Night fell when Bijla Singh completed the narration of these tragedies. The Khalsa had completed their dinner. Balwant Singh went to the Free Kitchen but did not find Sundri there. He was in a state of great anxiety. A strong feeling of apprehension passed through his mind. He felt certain that some new misfortune had overtaken her. He took Dharam Kaur and about twenty armed riders with himself and proceeded to the village. The night was dark and the roads uneven and craggy. With great difficulty, the Sikhs climbed over the hillock. They saw a Pathan's corpse lying on the footpath. As they searched the spot, they found a dagger, which Balwant Singh recognised as the one belonging to his sister. Now he was clear in his mind that his sister had been overtaken by some calamity. Promptly they entered the village and calling the villagers to the market place, made detailed enquiries from them. Balwant Singh was told that at sunset, a palanquin under the guard of five or seven Turks had passed through the village. Hearing this, Balwant Singh followed in the dark that way for four to six miles but did not find Sundri. Then they all returned to the camp and called some leading members of the group for consultation. They knew that they had also to- shift the camp early morning.

A mystic mendicant is walking on the road; he wears a long shirt from which rags dangled; he has a begging bowl in hand and a loose sheet covering his thighs and legs. He has a pony which be sometimes rides and sometimes leads by the hand; sometimes he sings a song in Arabic and sometimes m Persian; sometimes he sings lines from the romance of Heer-Ranjha and occasionally verses of Guru Nanak, but one line which he utters with great devotion is:

'In what lane shall I find my beautiful Lord?'

As he was going towards the river, a Muslim met him and said; 'Sir, do not go thither. Both the banks of the ford are guarded by the Sikhs, for their troops are crossing the river; you should not go in that direction, lest you might be ground like worms in grams in a mill.'

Fakir (mendicant): 'O, the damned Sikhs! Where shall I go then?'

Man: 'Sir, go along the lower footpath and then you will reach a spot where two or three boatmen are hiding. They will take you across the river in their boat.'

Fakir: "Has any one else gone that way?"

Man: "O man of God! Yes, a little while ago a Moghul along with his family in a palanquin went that way. I am standing at this spot so that if any pious man wants to go by ferry, I may guide him to a suitable crossing site so that he may avoid the Sikhs."

Fakir: "There used to be some sepoys for guarding the ferry-service."

Man: "The Sikhs on arrival imprisoned them."

Fakir (mendicant) got so scared when he heard the name of Sikhs that he jumped on his pony and galloped away to the small pathway and soon reached the little known ferry point on the river. He saw a boat fully loaded and therefore, shouted to the boatman: "For God's sake, take me on your boat."

In that boat there was a Muslim Chief and the palanquin of his wife, along with horses and servants. The Chief paid no attention to the Fakir's entreaties. However, boatmen are generally afraid of religious mendicants, because they firmly believe that boats capsize on account of the curses of such men. In short, on the intervention of the boatman, the Fakir got a seat; he pushed the pony to a corner of the boat. The boatman unmoored the boat and set it afloat.

At this time a few clouds could be seen in the sky and a gentle breeze blew. The Fakir in his own frenzy began reciting verses of the Quran. In that excitement, he also sang the following line: "In what lane shall I find my beautiful Lord?"

The river's stillness, the floating clouds, the pleasant whiffs of breeze and the Fakir's rapturous melody produced a magical effect. All people felt happy with the Fakir. The Muslim Chief sat still, listening to the songs and began waving his head joyfully, but strangely enough his begum (wife) in the palanquin was overcome by sorrow and heaved such a sad and low sigh that the Fakir got nervous and began to recite again the Quranic verse ('Lahaul wala') invoking God's protection. When the Muslim Chief observed this, he said to the Fakir: 'O Sir, it will all go well. You keep singing the last verse.'

On hearing the remark, the Fakir sang the last verse again, and the begum again moaned and whispered an audible: 'Alas!'

At this moment, the Fakir stopped singing and told the Muslim Chief: 'You are a Kafir (an infidel) at heart. You are ill-treating your wife.'

God has never ordained that one should treat one's wife harshly, The Chief began to give explanations, but the Fakir did not listen to him. His ears were turned towards the palanquin and his face towards the Chief. How could now and then hear a groan coming from inside the palanquin. The Fakir closed his eyes and then for some moments he sat like a Yogi in a trance. When he opened his eyes he said to the Chief: 'Sir, the lady in the palanquin is not your wife; she is a strange woman: her hands and feet are tied and I have known all this through my mystic lore.' The Chief was taken aback and respectfully touched the Fakir's feet and said: 'you are a messenger of God. You are a rare mys