The Sacred Sacrifice - Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 : The road of sacrifice

This part delves into the poignant journey of Mata Gujri Ji and her young grandsons, Zorawar Singh (9 years) and Fateh Singh (7 years), as they navigate treacherous paths and confront the tyrannical rule of the Mughals. The weight of anticipation hangs heavy in the air, mingled with a sense of foreboding. The court of Wazir Khan, the Mughal governor, looms large, a symbol of oppression and injustice. The part portrays the young Sahibzadas' unwavering resolve, their unwavering commitment to their faith, and their unwavering determination to uphold the principles of their faith.

The Tenth Master knows.

He knows about the hospitality

of the devout Kumma Mashki.

He knows

that the meal served by Lakshmi

would be their last proper meal.

…

Guru knows of their hunger.

That Gangu serves

but dry, hard bread to tender little boys.

Yet Gran sustains them still,

on sugar drop candies

and dullops of love and faith.

…

The Light knows of betrayal.

Of Gangu stealing their purse,

a small, little worldly holdall.

His swindling, sealing them away,

depriving them of food and water,

yes, the Light knows it all.

…

The Master is aware.

Of the Police arresting

his loved ones, at Gangu’s behest.

Of the temptations,

to trick and corrupt his seeds,

of the games played to entice.

…

The Master is proud.

Of their bold Jaikaras,

like eyas calling out in the prison cells,

Of the young hawks

spreading their wings

and soaring spiritedly.

…

The Omniscient feels.

The weight of the iron shackles

on the aged hands of his mother.

The pain of walking

with soft ankles restrained

in strong iron fetters.

…

The Master blesses them.

As they walk towards The Cold Turret,

with ragged clothes and battered frames.

As they spend the night,

huddled together

and dwelling on Thy name.

…

The clairvoyant Master watches.

When the men of Suba Sirhind,

come to summon his fledglings to the Court.

When the nascent hawks,

are scurried away, rather roughly,

away from their shield, their Gran.

…

The Master smiles.

As they stride through the tiny door,

feet first—refusing to bow.

As the confident twin voices

ring through the court of foes,

Waheguru ji ka khalsa, Waheguru ji ki Fateh!

….

The Light hears.

When the Quazi offers them

lands, riches and women.

When they laugh off the propositions

and refuse to convert,

their wisdom defying their years.

…

The Light watches.

Spirited, they return to the warm folds

of Mata Gujri’s shawls.

They touch not the food from Suba’s kitchens,

but sip slowly, gratefully, that glass of milk,

that Moti Ram pours with sheer love.

…

The family prays.

The Master, Ma Gujri and princes,

the faithful Mehals who reach Delhi.

This night of trials,

this too shall pass, shadows fading,

in the dawn of Thy glory.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha