Guru Arjan Dev Ji (15 April 1563 - 30 May 1606) was the fifth of the Ten Gurus of Sikhism and became Guru on 1 September 1581 following in the footsteps of Guru Ram Das ji. He contributed a total of 2218 hymns to the Sri Guru Granth Sahib and was the Author of Sukhmani Sahib Bani – Prayer for Peace. Guru ji compiled and installed for the first time the holy Sikh Book, which at this stage is called Adi Granth. Built the Golden Temple and developed Amritsar as a Centre of Excellence. Enhanced the Structure of Sikh Society by introducing the Masund system
First Sikh Guru to be martyred in the cause of justice, truth and dharma. The extraordinary Man who gave Sikhi two of its greatest gifts ... the Guru Granth and the Harmandar Sahib ... was in the prime of his life, a mere 39 years old, when his spiritual activities were deemed a threat to institutionalized religion by the ruler of the land. Refusing to waver from his faith, he was tortured until his body succumbed.
First Sikh Guru to be martyred in the cause of justice, truth and dharma. The extraordinary Man who gave Sikhi two of its greatest gifts ... the Guru Granth and the Harmandar Sahib ... was in the prime of his life, a mere 39 years old, when his spiritual activities were deemed a threat to institutionalized religion by the ruler of the land. Refusing to waver from his faith, he was tortured until his body succumbed.
So, how do Sikhs commemorate his martyrdom?
Well, here's what we've never done, and still don't do:
We don't beat our breasts. We don't wear hair shirts. We don't mourn. We don't lament. We don't rail against the forces of evil and brandish recriminations. We've never been bitter. But here's what we indeed do. It's simple.
We take some water. We add milk to it. And sugar. We then add gulab jal (rose-water) to give it flavour. We add chunks of ice to chill the beverage. Then, on the day marking the great martyrdom - invariably, the peak of the sub-continental summer, when temperatures bake in the Celsius forties - we set up stalls in every village, and town, and city. In every neighbourhood. We serve the refreshing libation to all passers-by. Free. Nay, many do better. Volunteers spill into the streets and gently stop the traffic and offer the kacchi lassi to those in cars and buses, rickshaws and tempos ... and ask for nothing in return. It brings no medals. No awards. No certificates. No media coverage. It's done for the sheer joy of it all. Year after year. Century after century. This is how we, the Sikhs, celebrate - yeah, CELEBRATE! - the great sacrifice. (excerpted from T. Sher Singh)
Well, here's what we've never done, and still don't do:
We don't beat our breasts. We don't wear hair shirts. We don't mourn. We don't lament. We don't rail against the forces of evil and brandish recriminations. We've never been bitter. But here's what we indeed do. It's simple.
We take some water. We add milk to it. And sugar. We then add gulab jal (rose-water) to give it flavour. We add chunks of ice to chill the beverage. Then, on the day marking the great martyrdom - invariably, the peak of the sub-continental summer, when temperatures bake in the Celsius forties - we set up stalls in every village, and town, and city. In every neighbourhood. We serve the refreshing libation to all passers-by. Free. Nay, many do better. Volunteers spill into the streets and gently stop the traffic and offer the kacchi lassi to those in cars and buses, rickshaws and tempos ... and ask for nothing in return. It brings no medals. No awards. No certificates. No media coverage. It's done for the sheer joy of it all. Year after year. Century after century. This is how we, the Sikhs, celebrate - yeah, CELEBRATE! - the great sacrifice. (excerpted from T. Sher Singh)
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