Shivpreet Singh
Shivpreet Singh
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A prayer for those who are suffering during Covid:


ਧਨਾਸਰੀ ਮਹਲਾ ੫ ॥
धनासरी महला ५ ॥
Ḏẖanāsrī mėhlā 5.
Dhanaasaree, Fifth Mehl:

ਅਉਖੀ ਘੜੀ ਨ ਦੇਖਣ ਦੇਈ ਅਪਨਾ ਬਿਰਦੁ ਸਮਾਲੇ ॥
अउखी घड़ी न देखण देई अपना बिरदु समाले ॥
Aukẖī gẖaṛī na ḏekẖaṇ ḏeī apnā biraḏ samāle.
He does not let His devotees see the difficult times; this is His innate nature.

ਹਾਥ ਦੇਇ ਰਾਖੈ ਅਪਨੇ ਕਉ ਸਾਸਿ ਸਾਸਿ ਪ੍ਰਤਿਪਾਲੇ ॥੧॥
हाथ देइ राखै अपने कउ सासि सासि प्रतिपाले ॥१॥
Hāth ḏee rākẖai apne kao sās sās parṯipāle. ||1||
Giving His hand, He protects His devotee; with each and every breath, He cherishes him. ||1||

ਪ੍ਰਭ ਸਿਉ ਲਾਗਿ ਰਹਿਓ ਮੇਰਾ ਚੀਤੁ ॥
प्रभ सिउ लागि रहिओ मेरा चीतु ॥
Parabẖ sio lāg rahio merā cẖīṯ.
My consciousness remains attached to God.

ਆਦਿ ਅੰਤਿ ਪ੍ਰਭੁ ਸਦਾ ਸਹਾਈ ਧੰਨੁ ਹਮਾਰਾ ਮੀਤੁ ॥ ਰਹਾਉ ॥
आदि अंति प्रभु सदा सहाई धंनु हमारा मीतु ॥ रहाउ ॥
Āḏ anṯ parabẖ saḏā sahāī ḏẖan hamārā mīṯ. Rahāo.
In the beginning, and in the end, God is always my helper and companion; blessed is my friend. ||Pause||

ਮਨਿ ਬਿਲਾਸ ਭਏ ਸਾਹਿਬ ਕੇ ਅਚਰਜ ਦੇਖਿ ਬਡਾਈ ॥
मनि बिलास भए साहिब के अचरज देखि बडाई ॥
Man bilās bẖae sāhib ke acẖraj ḏekẖ badāī.
My mind is delighted, gazing upon the marvelous, glorious greatness of the Lord and Master.

ਹਰਿ ਸਿਮਰਿ ਸਿਮਰਿ ਆਨਦ ਕਰਿ ਨਾਨਕ ਪ੍ਰਭਿ ਪੂਰਨ ਪੈਜ ਰਖਾਈ ॥੨॥੧੫॥੪੬॥
हरि सिमरि सिमरि आनद करि नानक प्रभि पूरन पैज रखाई ॥२॥१५॥४६॥
Har simar simar ānaḏ kar Nānak parabẖ pūran paij rakẖāī. ||2||15||46||
Remembering, remembering the Lord in meditation, Nanak is in ecstasy; God, in His perfection, has protected and preserved his honor. ||2||15||46||



Shivpreet Singh · Aukhi Ghadi (Alaap version)

This particular translation/reflection, especially the “that’s just how you are” reminds me of a William Stafford poem I recently read. We are all following a thread:

The way it is 

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

- William Stafford 

And while we are on “following” might as well ponder upon this:



Translation and Lyrics in Hindi


धनासरी महला ५ ॥ अउखी घड़ी न देखण देई अपना बिरदु समाले ॥ हाथ देइ राखै अपने कउ सासि सासि प्रतिपाले ॥१॥

पद्अर्थ: अउखी = दुख देने वाली। देई = देता। बिरदु = मूल कदीमों का (प्यार वाला) स्वभाव। समाले = याद रखता है। देइ = दे के। राखै = रक्षा करता है। कउ = को। सासि सासि = हरेक सांस के साथ।1।

अर्थ: हे भाई! (वह प्रभु अपने सेवक को) कोई दुख देने वाला समय नहीं देता, वह अपना प्यार वाला बिरद स्वभाव सदा याद रखता है। प्रभु अपना हाथ दे के अपने सेवक की रक्षा करता है, (सेवक को उसके) हरेक सांस के साथ पालता रहता है।1।

प्रभ सिउ लागि रहिओ मेरा चीतु ॥ आदि अंति प्रभु सदा सहाई धंनु हमारा मीतु ॥ रहाउ॥

पद्अर्थ: सिउ = साथ। आदि अंति = शुरू से आखिर तक, सदा ही। सहाई = मददगार। धंनु = सराहनीय। रहाउ।

अर्थ: हे भाई! मेरा मन (भी) उस प्रभु से जुड़ा रहता है, जो आरम्भ से आखिर तक सदा ही मददगार बना रहता है। हमारा वह मित्र प्रभु धन्य है (उसकी सदा तारीफ करनी चाहिए)। रहाउ।

मनि बिलास भए साहिब के अचरज देखि बडाई ॥ हरि सिमरि सिमरि आनद करि नानक प्रभि पूरन पैज रखाई ॥२॥१५॥४६॥

पद्अर्थ: मनि = मन में। बिलास = खुशियां। देखि = देख के। सिमरि = स्मरण करके। करि = मान। प्रभि = प्रभु ने। पैज = इज्जत।2।

अर्थ: हे भाई! मालिक प्रभु के हैरान करने वाले करिश्मे देख के, उसका बड़प्पन देख के (सेवक के) मन में (भी) खुशियां बनी रहती हैं। हे नानक! तू भी परमात्मा का नाम स्मरण कर-कर के आत्मिक आनंद ले। (जिस भी मनुष्य ने स्मरण किया) प्रभु ने पूरे तौर पर उसकी इज्जत रख ली।2।15।46।

Another English Translation - 

The Lord does not let his servant go through any painful time, he always remembers his servant. That is his loving nature. The Lord protects His servant by lending his own hand.  He sustains the servant through every breath. 

My mind remains attached to the one who is always helpful from beginning to end. My companion is great!

Seeing the astonishing charisma of the Lord, seeing his greatness, happiness resides in my mind. O Nanak! Be blissful in the remembrance of the Lord who saves his own honor.

My thoughts

Today I am marveling upon the times of Guru Arjan, the guru who sat on a boiling iron plate and sang Tera Kiya Meetha Lagai in raag Asa - whatever you do appears sweet to me he sang. This steadfast optimism in the power of oneness is reflected in another phrase he sings ... this time in raag dhanasri - Sada Sahai. Always helpful. I hear him meditating upon oneness - 

Prabhu ...
You are saḏā sahāī ... always helpful
You lend me your own hand, 
You nurture every breath of mine
You don't let me see any difficult times; 
because that is what you do
that is your inherent
nature.

You are saḏā sahāī ... always helpful
From the very beginning to forever
you sustain me breath by breath
you help me task after task

Through your remembrance 
my bliss is unfolded.
My mind is unfurled 
in enchanting amazement
as I behold your compassion.

I know that you are saḏā sahāī
that no matter what happens
you will uphold your own honor
you will always protect me

after all that's just how you are 
and I ... I am your very own

I have done several recordings of Jo Mange Thakur Apne Te over the years. This recording was done live in December 2019 with Ustad Ahsan Ali on the Sarangi.  This was released last month as part of the Kirpa Dhaar project to release uplifting shabads during the pandemic. Sarangi and Voice were recorded in the studio in December; piano was later added in California.  Like most of my productions, it took many months to mix. Much thanks also to Gaurav Dhingra and Aman Kakkar for their contributions on this project. 

The key message of Jo Mange is to remove our vices: Avgun Sab Mete.  This is what the singer asks for. O oneness, come and hug me and remove my vices. 



Lyrics in English 


Jo mange thakur apne te 
Soi soi devai
Nanak das mukh te jo bole 
Eehaa oohaa sach hovai

Chatur disa kino bal apna,
Sir upar kar dhareyo
Kirpa katakh avalokan kino,
Das ka dukh bidaryo

Har jan rakhe gur govind
Raakhe gur govind
Kanth lae avguna sab mete,
Dyaal purakh bakshand


Translation in English by Sant Singh Khalsa


Whatever I ask for from my Lord and Master, he gives that to me.
Whatever the Lord's slave Nanak utters with his mouth, proves to be true, here and hereafter. 

He has extended His power in all four directions, and placed His hand upon my head.
Gazing upon me with his Eye of Mercy, He has dispelled the pains of His slave. ||1||

The Guru, the Lord of the Universe, has saved the Lord's humble servant.
Hugging me close in His embrace, the merciful, forgiving Lord has erased all my sins. ||Pause||


Alternative Translation by Shivpreet Singh


The one whose power 
extends in all four directions, 
places His hand 
upon my head.

He gazes upon me 
with His vision of mercy 
and dispels within me
all of my pain.

That merciful, forgiving master
erases all my vices.
He embraces me.
He takes care of me.

I obtain, says slave Nanak, 
Whatever I ask of my Master.
And Whatever I say
proves true, here and hereafter.

Who is Govind?

In the rahao line Guru Arjan says, "Har Jan Rakhe Guru Govind." I prefer not translating the "names" of "God" because of potential misinterpretations.  Guru Nanak's Mool Mantra is the best place to explore the meaning of Ekomkaar.  Additionally, from the context of this shabad it is clear that Guru Arjan sings of the Govind whose power spreads in all four directions. He feels like Govind's hand is on his head.  More: https://shivpreetsingh.blogspot.com/2020/08/jo-mange-sarangi-version.html


Lyrics/Transliteration/Alternative English Translation:

ਧਨਾਸਰੀ ਮਹਲਾ ੫ ॥
धनासरी महला ५ ॥
Ḏẖanāsrī mėhlā 5.
Dhanaasaree, Fifth Mehl:

ਚਤੁਰ ਦਿਸਾ ਕੀਨੋ ਬਲੁ ਅਪਨਾ ਸਿਰ ਊਪਰਿ ਕਰੁ ਧਾਰਿਓ ॥
चतुर दिसा कीनो बलु अपना सिर ऊपरि करु धारिओ ॥
Cẖaṯur ḏisā kīno bal apnā sir ūpar kar ḏẖārio.
He has extended His power in all four directions, and placed His hand upon my head.

ਕ੍ਰਿਪਾ ਕਟਾਖ੍ਯ੍ਯ ਅਵਲੋਕਨੁ ਕੀਨੋ ਦਾਸ ਕਾ ਦੂਖੁ ਬਿਦਾਰਿਓ ॥੧॥
क्रिपा कटाख्य अवलोकनु कीनो दास का दूखु बिदारिओ ॥१॥
Kirpā katākẖy avlokan kīno ḏās kā ḏūkẖ biḏārio. ||1||
Gazing upon me with his Eye of Mercy, He has dispelled the pains of His slave. ||1||

ਹਰਿ ਜਨ ਰਾਖੇ ਗੁਰ ਗੋਵਿੰਦ ॥
हरि जन राखे गुर गोविंद ॥
Har jan rākẖe gur govinḏ.
The Guru, the Lord of the Universe, has saved the Lord's humble servant.

ਕੰਠਿ ਲਾਇ ਅਵਗੁਣ ਸਭਿ ਮੇਟੇ ਦਇਆਲ ਪੁਰਖ ਬਖਸੰਦ ॥ ਰਹਾਉ ॥
कंठि लाइ अवगुण सभि मेटे दइआल पुरख बखसंद ॥ रहाउ ॥
Kanṯẖ lāe avguṇ sabẖ mete ḏaiāl purakẖ bakẖsanḏ. Rahāo.
Hugging me close in His embrace, the merciful, forgiving Lord has erased all my sins. ||Pause||

ਜੋ ਮਾਗਹਿ ਠਾਕੁਰ ਅਪੁਨੇ ਤੇ ਸੋਈ ਸੋਈ ਦੇਵੈ ॥
जो मागहि ठाकुर अपुने ते सोई सोई देवै ॥
Jo māgėh ṯẖākur apune ṯe soī soī ḏevai.
Whatever I ask for from my Lord and Master, he gives that to me.

ਨਾਨਕ ਦਾਸੁ ਮੁਖ ਤੇ ਜੋ ਬੋਲੈ ਈਹਾ ਊਹਾ ਸਚੁ ਹੋਵੈ ॥੨॥੧੪॥੪੫॥
नानक दासु मुख ते जो बोलै ईहा ऊहा सचु होवै ॥२॥१४॥४५॥
Nānak ḏās mukẖ ṯe jo bolai īhā ūhā sacẖ hovai. ||2||14||45||
Whatever the Lord's slave Nanak utters with his mouth, proves to be true, here and hereafter. ||2||14||45||


Jo Mange Thakur Apne - Spanish Translation by Iris Salinas Ibacache


El uno cuyo poder
se extiende en las cuatro direcciones,
pone su mano
sobre mi cabeza .

Su mirada sobre mí
con su visión de la misericordia
y disipa dentro de mí
todo mi dolor .

Eso misericordioso , que perdona maestro
borra todos mis vicios .
Él me abraza .
Él cuida de mí .

Obtengo , dice Nanak esclavo ,
Lo que le pido a mi Maestro .
Y todo lo que digo
resulta cierto , aquí y allá.

Lo que le pido a mi Maestro, me otorga

Related Posts 
  • 2014 Studio recording in collaboration with Canadian arranger David Baynes 
  • Original Composition was by Bhai Surjan Singh 
  • How do I know I am singing Dhanasri 
  • Spanish Translation of Jo Mange 

Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.

- the gospel according to saint matthew

Most of us have not tried knocking on the door that Jesus is talking about. We are content to spend all our time exploring the outside of the house. The lawn, the trees, the trellis and the porch swing receive all our attention, so that we never even get inside, never seek out the One who is waiting there. We turn our cottage into House Beautiful, paint it and repaint it, but never so much as knock on the door.


Not only are we not looking for anybody inside, we are convinced that no one is there. If there is a God, we think he is surely outside, as is everything else that catches our attention. Vaguely, fondly even, we may sometimes imagine as we go about our business that Someone is probably keeping an eye on us. But if we will open our ears, we can hear the murmurings from within, the faint stir and rustle of a presence deep inside of us, and a voice hauntingly beautiful. Once we hear that, we will pound on the door with all our might, so that we can enter and meet the One who has been waiting so long.

Lost Time 
-Rabindranath Tagore


On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time.
But it is never lost, my lord!
You have taken every moment of my life in your own hands.

Hidden in the heart of things you are  nourishing seeds into sprouts, 
buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.

I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed
and imagined all work had ceased.
In the morning I woke up
and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

Song Of The Soul XXII
by Khalil Gibran

In the depth of my soul there is 
A wordless song - a song that lives 
In the seed of my heart. 
It refuses to melt with ink on 
Parchment; it engulfs my affection 
In a transparent cloak and flows, 
But not upon my lips. 

How can I sigh it? I fear it may 
Mingle with earthly ether; 
To whom shall I sing it? It dwells 
In the house of my soul, in fear of 
Harsh ears. 

When I look into my inner eyes 
I see the shadow of its shadow; 
When I touch my fingertips 
I feel its vibrations. 

The deeds of my hands heed its 
Presence as a lake must reflect 
The glittering stars; my tears 
Reveal it, as bright drops of dew 
Reveal the secret of a withering rose. 

It is a song composed by contemplation, 
And published by silence, 
And shunned by clamor, 
And folded by truth, 
And repeated by dreams, 
And understood by love, 
And hidden by awakening, 
And sung by the soul. 

It is the song of love; 
What Cain or Esau could sing it? 

It is more fragrant than jasmine; 
What voice could enslave it? 

It is heartbound, as a virgin's secret; 
What string could quiver it? 

Who dares unite the roar of the sea 
And the singing of the nightingale? 
Who dares compare the shrieking tempest 
To the sigh of an infant? 
Who dares speak aloud the words 
Intended for the heart to speak? 
What human dares sing in voice 
The song of God?


An essay by Bridget Fonger
Sep 26, 2013

I was at a big boisterous dinner party last weekend. On my corner of the long table, two friends were having a bit of a serious exchange about trying to be okay with life just the way it is and just the way it isn't. They invited me into the conversation and I, of course, agreed that I shared their plight. We label all the life experiences that don't feel good as "wrong" and all the positive experiences as "right," I admitted that I've been working hard on this one for years. But I also mentioned my personal saving grace.

I offered that the happiest people I know -- and I included myself in this group -- are the ones who express gratitude on a regular basis. I happen to start my day with gratitude, but it's easy for me because I wake up to my two joyous dogs, Lucy and Tallulah, on either side of me. It's hard to not be grateful when you wake up to pure unconditional playful love. They trigger the start of my gratitude list and then I move on from there. Maybe this is why dog owners tend to be happier. Dogs can't help but trigger gratitude with their unconditional love and licks.

The top of my gratitude list stays the same each day, but the end of the list always surprises me. Sometimes I am grateful for the struggles, though not often. I'm working on that one. I'd like to be equally grateful for all of it one day.

When I meditate I also start with a gratitude list to center myself. It pulls me into the present. My list feels like a representation of who I am and where I am in that moment. It is a re-PRESENT-ation, pulling me to be fully in the now.

We are all our own little science labs. I say whatever works for you, do it. Gratitude pretty much never fails to work for me in raising my happiness quotient. It's just fun that this video lets us know it's scientifically proven and allows us to watch some other loving lab rats become more happy as they express their gratitude.

In the early- to mid-2000s, I did a lot of Landmark Education courses and I think what got me hooked on this work was the exercise in the very first course in their curriculum, the Landmark Forum, which requires you to pick up a phone and, among other things yet most important to me, express gratitude to someone you care about. I am so happy I was able to do this with both of my parents, for instance, in a way I never had before. These exercises catapulted my happiness quotient to a new level. But, most important they gave me what I'm sure will be a lifelong appreciation for expressing gratitude and its feel-good effects.

The best part of expressing gratitude like that shown in this video is the endless chain of positive events that you know were generated by these phone calls. Talk about paying it forward! You don't even have to wonder about all the juicy goodness that will come in someone's day after having been fully acknowledged. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Questioning gravity is crazy. With videos like this, hopefully questioning gratitude will soon be equally insane.

Link to the video:
http://www.upworthy.com/scientists-discover-one-of-the-greatest-contributing-factors-to-happiness-youll-thank-me?g=3&c=upw8
Sometimes I find myself in a song. 
But I love being lost in a song more. 
Raag Sri is about being found. Raag Dhanasri is about being lost. Each color has it's own charm. 

John Steinbeck was  probably thinking of Amazing Grace when he said this. 
1.	Amazing grace! How sweet the sound 
	that saved a wretch like me! 
	I once was lost, but now am found; 
	was blind, but now I see. 

2.	'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, 
	and grace my fears relieved; 
	how precious did that grace appear 
	the hour I first believed. 

3.	Through many dangers, toils, and snares, 
	I have already come; 
	'tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, 
	and grace will lead me home. 

4.	The Lord has promised good to me, 
	his word my hope secures; 
	he will my shield and portion be, 
	as long as life endures. 

5.	Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, 
	and mortal life shall cease, 
	I shall possess, within the veil, 
	a life of joy and peace. 

6.	When we've been there ten thousand years, 
	bright shining as the sun, 
	we've no less days to sing God's praise 
	than when we first begun. 

I wonder if I wonder
about the presence
of God

or His immense hunger
His appetite for
love

His attention to detail
or whether there
was.
Surprising May

Surprises may come from windows
with hissing trees and singing crickets.

Who cares of the reigning promiscuity
or the approaching placid skies,

like a wedding album lying cold,
as good as dead, after a divorce.

When this novel winter that blows
in between seasons can be preserved,

shiv, through wisened cameras
that might capture all of such May nights,

we'll all see killer 5D thrills
filled with smells and chills.



Thanking My Mother for Piano Lessons
BY DIANE WAKOSKI



The relief of putting your fingers on the keyboard,   
as if you were walking on the beach
and found a diamond
as big as a shoe;

as if
you had just built a wooden table
and the smell of sawdust was in the air,   
your hands dry and woody;

as if
you had eluded
the man in the dark hat who had been following you   
all week;

the relief
of putting your fingers on the keyboard,   
playing the chords of
Beethoven,
Bach,
Chopin
         in an afternoon when I had no one to talk to,
         when the magazine advertisement forms of soft sweaters   
         and clean shining Republican middle-class hair
         walked into carpeted houses   
         and left me alone
         with bare floors and a few books

I want to thank my mother   
for working every day
in a drab office
in garages and water companies
cutting the cream out of her coffee at 40
to lose weight, her heavy body
writing its delicate bookkeeper’s ledgers
alone, with no man to look at her face,   
her body, her prematurely white hair   
in love
         I want to thank
my mother for working and always paying for   
my piano lessons
before she paid the Bank of America loan   
or bought the groceries
or had our old rattling Ford repaired.

I was a quiet child,
afraid of walking into a store alone,
afraid of the water,
the sun,
the dirty weeds in back yards,
afraid of my mother’s bad breath,
and afraid of my father’s occasional visits home,   
knowing he would leave again;
afraid of not having any money,
afraid of my clumsy body,
that I knew
         no one would ever love

But I played my way
on the old upright piano
obtained for $10,
played my way through fear,
through ugliness,
through growing up in a world of dime-store purchases,   
and a desire to love
a loveless world.

I played my way through an ugly face
and lonely afternoons, days, evenings, nights,   
mornings even, empty
as a rusty coffee can,
played my way through the rustles of spring
and wanted everything around me to shimmer like the narrow tide   
on a flat beach at sunset in Southern California,
I played my way through
an empty father’s hat in my mother’s closet
and a bed she slept on only one side of,
never wrinkling an inch of
the other side,
waiting,   
waiting,

I played my way through honors in school,   
the only place I could
talk
       the classroom,
       or at my piano lessons, Mrs. Hillhouse’s canary always   
       singing the most for my talents,
       as if I had thrown some part of my body away upon entering   
       her house
       and was now searching every ivory case
       of the keyboard, slipping my fingers over black   
       ridges and around smooth rocks,
       wondering where I had lost my bloody organs,   
       or my mouth which sometimes opened
       like a California poppy,
       wide and with contrasts
       beautiful in sweeping fields,
       entirely closed morning and night,

I played my way from age to age,
but they all seemed ageless
or perhaps always
old and lonely,
wanting only one thing, surrounded by the dusty bitter-smelling   
leaves of orange trees,
wanting only to be touched by a man who loved me,   
who would be there every night
to put his large strong hand over my shoulder,
whose hips I would wake up against in the morning,   
whose mustaches might brush a face asleep,
dreaming of pianos that made the sound of Mozart   
and Schubert without demanding
that life suck everything
out of you each day,
without demanding the emptiness
of a timid little life.

I want to thank my mother
for letting me wake her up sometimes at 6 in the morning   
when I practiced my lessons
and for making sure I had a piano
to lay my school books down on, every afternoon.
I haven’t touched the piano in 10 years,
perhaps in fear that what little love I’ve been able to
pick, like lint, out of the corners of pockets,
will get lost,
slide away,
into the terribly empty cavern of me
if I ever open it all the way up again.
Love is a man
with a mustache
gently holding me every night,
always being there when I need to touch him;
he could not know the painfully loud
music from the past that
his loving stops from pounding, banging,
battering through my brain,
which does its best to destroy the precarious gray matter when I   
am alone;
he does not hear Mrs. Hillhouse’s canary singing for me,
liking the sound of my lesson this week,
telling me,
confirming what my teacher says,   
that I have a gift for the piano   
few of her other pupils had.
When I touch the man
I love,
I want to thank my mother for giving me   
piano lessons
all those years,
keeping the memory of Beethoven,
a deaf tortured man,
in mind;
            of the beauty that can come
from even an ugly
past.
[from 2013] Recently I recorded Guru Nanak's Aarti.  It was just me and the piano in my studio one evening. The essence of this beautiful poem is "How can I light candles for the one who has ignited all the stars in the platter of the sky, and lit all the flowers in the forest, and blows their perfume with the celestial wind? Nanak says that the true Aarti (lighting of candles) is the lighting of the heart's candle."


Raag Dhanasri


Guru Nanak used to sing Aarti in raag dhanasri. But the question remains how do I know we are truly singing Dhanasri? Several musicologists will agree with the musical notes and other perfunctory intricacies, which are necessary, but still inept in creating the atmosphere of Dhanasri. I have found big and small encyclopedias of Indian classical music and Gurmat Sangeet fall short in a meaningful way. The more you sing, Dhanasri, like all raags from the Guru Granth Sahib, it becomes harder to sing. The musical rules are the first step and maybe easy for an adept musician, but that is only the tip of the iceberg; the true Dhanasri, like any true raag, has to fortify the meaning of the words we are singing. And then it has to take you beyond, to the anhat shabad.  That is the purpose of any raag. 

More on How do I know I am singing Dhanasri.

Rabindranath Tagore on Guru Nanak's Aarti


Famous saint poet of India Rabindranath Tagore was once asked by Balraj Sahni, who used to teach at Santiniketan then, that the way he has written the National Anthem of India, why doesn't he write one for the world? He replied that it has already been written. It was written in 16th Century by Guru Nanak, and this was sung by Guru Nanak as Aarti at Jagannath puri to the lord (the omnipresent God). and that this anthem was not only for the world, but for the entire universe. He was so influenced by this aarti that he himself translated it into Bangla language. 

Someone shared the following story on my youtube page: 

Once thespian Balraj Sahni (who used to teach at Santiniketan then) asked the Nobel Laureate Rabindra Nath Tagore, "You have written the national anthem for India. Can you write an international anthem for the whole world?" Tagore replied, "It has already been written. Not just an international anthem, but an anthem for the entire universe. It is the aarti written by Guru Nanak in the 16th century." Tagore was referring to the Sikh Aarti (ceremony of light). Gurudev Tagore was so enamoured of this aarti that he personally translated it into Bengali. Here is the story behind it :

When Guru Nanak traveled to Puri at the Jagannath temple, the temple priests invited Guru Nanak to join them to join in the Aarti of the Lord. Guru Nanak agreed and went and sat inside the temple. The priests stood in front of the idol gods and started to wave platters with lights, incense and offerings placed on it. All the devotees who had gathered stood up and gazed at the Lord with great devotion. Guru Nanak filled with great pleasure, was transfixed and remained seated. So overwhelmed was he, that tears rolled down his eyes

At the end of the aarti, the priests complained to Guru Nanak, "You said you would join us to join us in the Aarti of God, but you remain seated on the floor with your eyes closed!" Guru Nanak then replied with this Shabad, saying “Dear brothers! Does our Jagannath exist only here and in this wooden image? Is he not dazzling in the aura of his own greatness, inside all creation? Cannot his Mahima be felt and experienced without the accompanying rituals?"

For more see Tagore and Sikhism by Amiya Dev, Sikhism Inspired Tagore

Rituals and Aarti 


A few Sikh Gurdwaras perform Aarti with a platter, or 'Thali', while singing the above Aarti Kirtan, including two of the Panj Takhts: Thakat Sachkhand Sri Hazur Sahib Abchal Nagar and Thakat Sachkhand Sri Patna Sahib Harimandir Sahib. Most Sikhs adhering to essence of Guru Nanak's aarti, resist performing Aarti perform, instead singing 'Aarti Kirtan', which are a few shabads from Guru Nanak, Ravidas and other Bhagats/Gurus. 

Gagan Mein Thal Rav - Lyrics of Guru Nanak's Aarti

There are two versions of Guru Nanak's aarti in the Granth Sahib (one on page 13 and another on page 663); they are the same in essence but a few words are changed for instance "tere naam vaasa" on page 663 versus "tere naye vaasa" on page 13; and "tis kai chaanan" versus "tis dai chaanan" on page 663.  

I assume Guru Nanak would change some of these words as he sung them (like the puratan raagis used to); this made gurbani alive. It became different from the religious texts in sanskrit, where the exact word and pronunciation mattered; here it didn't because the essence mattered most. The emotion and the essence is key in any gurbani recitation. 

[from page 13]

Rāg ḏẖanāsrī mėhlā 1. 
Gagan mai thāl rav cẖanḏ ḏīpak bane ṯārikā mandal janak moṯī. 
Ḏẖūp malānlo pavaṇ cẖavro kare sagal banrāe fūlanṯ joṯī. ||1|| 

Kaisī ārṯī ho▫e. 
Bẖav kẖandnā ṯerī ārṯī. 
Anhaṯā sabaḏ vājanṯ bẖerī. ||1|| rahāo. 

Sahas ṯav nain nan nain hėh ṯohi ka▫o sahas mūraṯ nanā ek ṯohī. 
Sahas paḏ bimal nan ek paḏ ganḏẖ bin sahas ṯav ganḏẖ iv cẖalaṯ mohī. ||2|| 

Sabẖ mėh joṯ joṯ hai soe. Ŧis ḏai cẖānaṇ sabẖ mėh cẖānaṇ hoe. 
Gur sākẖī joṯ pargat hoe. Jo ṯis bẖāvai so ārṯī hoe. ||3|| 

Har cẖaraṇ kaval makranḏ lobẖiṯ mano anḏino mohi āhī piāsā. 
Kirpā jal ḏėh Nānak sāring kao hoe jā ṯe ṯerai nāe vāsā. ||4||3|| 

[from Guru Granth Sahib page 663]

Gagan mein thaal rav chand deepak bane
Tarka mandal janak moti
Dhoop malaanlo pawan chavaro kare
Sagal banrai phoolant jyoti

Kaisi aarti hove
bhavkhandna teri aarti
Anahad shabd vajant bheri

Sahas tav nain nan
Nain hai tohe kau
Sahas murat nan na ek tohe
Sahas pad bimal nan ek pad gandh bin
Sahas tav gandh ev chalat mohi

Sab mein jot jot hai sohi
Tis ke chaanan sab mein chaanan hoi
Gur sakhi jot pargat hoe
Jo tis bhave so aarti hoe

Har charan kamal makrand lobit mano
Aneno mohe aaee piyasa
Kirpa jal de nanak sarang ko
Hoe jate tere naam vasa
Hoe jate tere naam vasa

Alternative Translation of Guru Nanak's Aarti

The Sky is your platter,
The sun and moon are the lamps
The Stars in the sky are the pearls,
The ‘Dhoop’ (Incense) is the fragrance,
That the wind propels, the whole forest is Your flowers.

O! What a wonderful Aarti, this is!
You, are a destroyer of Fear,
The sound of Your Name, which is so subtle, that It goes unheard,
Resounds endlessly.

You have a thousand eyes, but not one is yours
You have several forms, yet not one is yours
You have feet, noses…And you have none…
I am charmed by your

Your Light enlightens all!
It is by the Grace of the Guru that the real Light (Knowledge) Manifests.
What pleases the Almighty is this Aarti

Nanak is like the thirsty bird that asks,
For a drop of water, From You O Lord!
That drop (Grace) will make Nanak find comfort,
In the uttering of Your Name.

Traditional Translation

Raag Dhanaasree, First Mehl (Guru Nanak)

Upon that cosmic plate of the sky, the sun and the moon are the lamps. The stars and their orbs are the studded pearls. 
The fragrance of sandalwood in the air is the temple incense, and the wind is the fan. All the plants of the world are the altar flowers in offering to You, O Luminous Lord. ||1|| 

What a beautiful Aartee, lamp-lit worship service this is! 
O Destroyer of Fear, this is Your Ceremony of Light. 
The Unstruck Sound-current of the Shabad is the vibration of the temple drums. ||1||Pause|| 

You have thousands of eyes, and yet You have no eyes. You have thousands of forms, and yet You do not have even one. 
You have thousands of Lotus Feet, and yet You do not have even one foot. You have no nose, but you have thousands of noses. This Play of Yours entrances me. ||2|| 

Amongst all is the Light-You are that Light. By this Illumination, that Light is radiant within all. 
Through the Guru's Teachings, the Light shines forth. That which is pleasing to Him is the lamp-lit worship service. ||3|| 

My mind is enticed by the honey-sweet Lotus Feet of the Lord. Day and night, I thirst for them. 
Bestow the Water of Your Mercy upon Nanak, the thirsty song-bird, so that he may come to dwell in Your Name. ||4||3||

Lyrics in Gurmukhi and English 


ਰਾਗੁ ਧਨਾਸਰੀ ਮਹਲਾ ੧ ॥ Raag Dhhanaasaree Mehalaa 1 || Raag Dhanaasaree, First Guru:

ਗਗਨ ਮੈ ਥਾਲੁ ਰਵਿ ਚੰਦੁ ਦੀਪਕ ਬਨੇ ਤਾਰਿਕਾ ਮੰਡਲ ਜਨਕ ਮੋਤੀ ॥ Gagan Mai Thhaal Rav Chandh Dheepak Banae Thaarikaa Manddal Janak Mothee ||

ਧੂਪੁ ਮਲਆਨਲੋ ਪਵਣੁ ਚਵਰੋ ਕਰੇ ਸਗਲ ਬਨਰਾਇ ਫੂਲੰਤ ਜੋਤੀ ॥੧॥ Dhhoop Malaaanalo Pavan Chavaro Karae Sagal Banaraae Foolanth Jothee ||1||

ਕੈਸੀ ਆਰਤੀ ਹੋਇ ॥ Kaisee Aarathee Hoe ||

ਭਵ ਖੰਡਨਾ ਤੇਰੀ ਆਰਤੀ ॥ Bhav Khanddanaa Thaeree Aarathee ||

ਅਨਹਤਾ ਸਬਦ ਵਾਜੰਤ ਭੇਰੀ ॥੧॥ ਰਹਾਉ ॥ Anehathaa Sabadh Vaajanth Bhaeree ||1|| Rehaao ||

ਸਹਸ ਤਵ ਨੈਨ ਨਨ ਨੈਨ ਹਹਿ ਤੋਹਿ ਕਉ ਸਹਸ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਨਨਾ ਏਕ ਤਦ਼ਹੀ ॥ Sehas Thav Nain Nan Nain Hehi Thohi Ko Sehas Moorath Nanaa Eaek Thuohee ||

ਸਹਸ ਪਦ ਬਿਮਲ ਨਨ ਏਕ ਪਦ ਗੰਧ ਬਿਨੁ ਸਹਸ ਤਵ ਗੰਧ ਇਵ ਚਲਤ ਮੋਹੀ ॥੨॥ Sehas Padh Bimal Nan Eaek Padh Gandhh Bin Sehas Thav Gandhh Eiv Chalath Mohee ||2||

ਸਭ ਮਹਿ ਜੋਤਿ ਜੋਤਿ ਹੈ ਸੋਇ ॥ Sabh Mehi Joth Joth Hai Soe ||

ਤਿਸ ਦੈ ਚਾਨਣਿ ਸਭ ਮਹਿ ਚਾਨਣੁ ਹੋਇ ॥ This Dhai Chaanan Sabh Mehi Chaanan Hoe ||

ਗੁਰ ਸਾਖੀ ਜੋਤਿ ਪਰਗਟੁ ਹੋਇ ॥ Gur Saakhee Joth Paragatt Hoe ||

ਜੋ ਤਿਸੁ ਭਾਵੈ ਸੁ ਆਰਤੀ ਹੋਇ ॥੩॥ Jo This Bhaavai S Aarathee Hoe ||3||

ਹਰਿ ਚਰਣ ਕਵਲ ਮਕਰੰਦ ਲੋਭਿਤ ਮਨੋ ਅਨਦਿਨਦ਼ ਮੋਹਿ ਆਹੀ ਪਿਆਸਾ ॥ Har Charan Kaval Makarandh Lobhith Mano Anadhinuo Mohi Aahee Piaasaa ||

ਕ੍ਰਿਪਾ ਜਲੁ ਦੇਹਿ ਨਾਨਕ ਸਾਰਿੰਗ ਕਉ ਹੋਇ ਜਾ ਤੇ ਤੇਰੈ ਨਾਇ ਵਾਸਾ ॥੪॥੩॥ Kirapaa Jal Dhaehi Naanak Saaring Ko Hoe Jaa Thae Thaerai Naae Vaasaa ||4||3||
After the first read of this poem by Whitman, to me he is describing the mystery of the universe. To me he is describing the universal "Aum" that lives within and around us. We know it in different ways -- the unstruck note for instance. He calls it 'unheard by sharpest ear, unform'd in clearest eye.'

This reminds me of Guru Nanak's Aarti where he describes "Ek Omkaar" -

Several are your eyes, yet no one eye is yours
Several are your forms, yet no one form is yours
Several are your feet, not one foot without an essence (path)
You have several essences ... that's charming, amazing!

Here is Walt's poem:

A Riddle Song
By Walt Whitman

That which eludes this verse and any verse,
Unheard by sharpest ear, unform'd in clearest eye or cunningest mind,
Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness nor wealth,
And yet the pulse of every heart and life throughout the world incessantly,
Which you and I and all pursuing ever ever miss,
Open but still a secret, the real of the real, an illusion,
Costless, vouchsafed to each, yet never man the owner,
Which poets vainly seek to put in rhyme, historians in prose,
Which sculptor never chisel'd yet, nor painter painted,
Which vocalist never sung, nor orator nor actor ever utter'd,
Invoking here and now I challenge for my song.

Indifferently, 'mid public, private haunts, in solitude,
Behind the mountain and the wood,
Companion of the city's busiest streets, through the assemblage,
It and its radiations constantly glide.

In looks of fair unconscious babes,
Or strangely in the coffin'd dead,
Or show of breaking dawn or stars by night,
As some dissolving delicate film of dreams,
Hiding yet lingering.

Two little breaths of words comprising it,
Two words, yet all from first to last comprised in it.

How ardently for it!
How many ships have sail'd and sunk for it!

How many travelers started from their homes and neer return'd!
How much of genius boldly staked and lost for it!
What countless stores of beauty, love, ventur'd for it!
How all superbest deeds since Time began are traceable to it--and
shall be to the end!
How all heroic martyrdoms to it!
How, justified by it, the horrors, evils, battles of the earth!
How the bright fascinating lambent flames of it, in every age and
land, have drawn men's eyes,
Rich as a sunset on the Norway coast, the sky, the islands, and the cliffs,
Or midnight's silent glowing northern lights unreachable.

Haply God's riddle it, so vague and yet so certain,
The soul for it, and all the visible universe for it,
And heaven at last for it.



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SHIVPREET SINGH

Singing oneness!
- Shivpreet Singh

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