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Son of Guru Gobind Singh Ji

The One on the Bus.......

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Remembered joys are never past. - James Montgomery

The One on the Bus.......

Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru

I was a child, seven, when I saw you then

From a bus you would gracefully descend

Liquid eyes of doe, blazing of light

Bearded and turbaned, a resplendant sight.

So enthralled and thrilled was my heart

I thought that it would never again start

Who was this prince, from where did he hail?

This King of Kings, in form displayed.

Many years like pages had flipped ahead

You were still in my heart though not yet in my head.

You came to me again, to me so seemingly late

Yet, Oh how blessed was to be my fate.

You blessed me with your sacred sight

Into my heart bubbled sheer delight

You brought this fool to your door

That I might serve You evermore.

I came and left my ‘self’ at the door

My body, my mind, my soul are yours evermore

This empty hollowed vessel you would shape

And fill with your Amrit’s kiss and fluid embrace.

With your nectar you bathed my hair

I was to keep it all over my body as You put it there.

As a practical living testament of obedience of Your will.

It had yet to become more wonderful still.

With a gentle twirling of your hand

You wrapped upon my head a soft cotton band

My head swam, I weaved, I though I might faint

Did I deserve the image of my Guru-saint?

It was His will and His will alone

He, yes He, chose me as my soul lay prone

He took my life, he cleansed my soul

Crown-turbaned my head for the world to behold.

That crown which tenderly cradles my sacred hair

>Emblimatic of form of all 10 so fair

Is also the loudest messenger for all to see from afar

The world cannot not only hear but witness your parchar.

In my trembling heart Ardas did I humbly recite

“ Please keep the dignity and respect” of your acolyte

Ever keep me, ever keep me at Your feet.

That I may never know the worldly ones’ utter, bitter defeat.

Lovers and detractors of His image have come, chattered and gone

The kirpan, kacchera, kangha, kesh and kara on my body linger on

Some obligingly wear or come to discard the regal crown

I among among sinners of both sexes cherish it like treasure booty found.

You see, it is the crown of the King of Kings you see

Of service, sacrifice, simran magnanimity; the reward of the humble devotee

The emblem of noble saint-soldier, of king and servant among all

Those who chose to leave it have forfeited life’s all.

Be I a king, a doctor or destitute pauper

I will turn my sight towards no other

But He, the King in form who alit from the bus

He has my loyalty and ever-ending trust.

Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru

With love and regards....

Be a Sikh

(to be continued)


Jagdish Singh Califronia.......

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