With Guru Sahib's kirpa we are going to Punjab for yatra and for Bhai Sampooran Singh jee's anand karaj later this week and these last few days all I can think about is the greatness of Sri Harmandir Sahib.
Westerners when talking about love and romance always refer to Paris as the city of love and are greatly in love with the idea of a romantic excursion to the eiffel tower. The allure and mysticism that it holds is also very romantic and some people even say that the very air of Paris is full of love. But for true romantics and for those who have lost all senses in the nasha of ishq know that Paris and this love that these westerners talk of is just bland and without any depth.
The true city of love is known by all majnoos, by all ranjhas, and by all ashiqs. Even the stone-hearted, devoid of love cynics, when bathed in the elixir of love in this city become divane! The air of this city is singing with love, and pulling every romantic to the door of Guru Ramdaas. Sri Harmandir Sahib, shining in the light of the early morning while the songs of love are emanating out of its doors, and Gurmukhs, both from this world and from Sachkhand, are walking around the parkarma as if they are drunk and out of their wits. These ravished brides wailing in ecstasy of hearing their beloveds name, just losing all sense of the world and just drinking in the wine of gurshabad! Vah!
The Amrit Sarovar giving off a spray of divinity. Bathing those with disease in a cure far more potent than any worldly medicine. Washing away the sins of the sinners who have no other hope. Making the lovers of the beloved pure and clean for the beloved to enjoy. Just a taste of this Amrit Jal sending currents of naam into the ashiqs core and awakening a thirst for Vaheguru's Dib-Lateefi Charan Kamal.
The newly wed bride walks form Darshan Deori with a nervousness not before experienced. She is even too shy to look up at the house of her beloved which is just before her. With an unabated step, she walks into his Darbar. And looking up at her Preetam, she is Nihaal.
Unconsciousness ensues. She drops to her knees. Bows her head. Jot Vigaas.
Preetam Singh
ਸਤਿਗੁਰਬਚਨਕਮਾਵਣੇਸਚਾਏਹੁਵੀਚਾਰੁ॥