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Gill has, to suit his purpose,
divided his work into sections, each starting with a few lines
in the Gurmukhi script and a corresponding painting. He knows
well enough that both the life and work of Guru Nanak have been
studied in scholarly detail by scores of writers, and that his
great hymns have been translated into English by both poets and
savants. He, therefore, decided, it appears, to confine his
poetic discourse to the Guru’s life (only main events in a
very brief form) and to the rendition of his select poems. He,
wisely, did not deviate into complexities, even though Guru
Nanak’s poetry is highly metaphorical, compact and involved
when the Guru’s muses are roused to the pitch of visionary
plenitude. Gill’s rendering, thus, is simple, direct and
nearer to fine prose. And he sustains this discourse with
imagination and insight.
The opening
section devoted to certain significant events in Guru Nanak’s
life depends heavily on the Janam Sakhis. The Guru’s
birth, education, marriage at 16, a brief stint as a keeper of
the Muslim overlord’s foodgrains at Sultanpur, a visit to
Hardwar, etc, are only touched upon. No effort is made to go
into the deeper and symbolic nature of those events. The Guru’s
four marathon journeys across the length and breadth of India,
and to Saudi Arabia and the holy Kaaba also receive a nodding
notice. That, of course, is all in accordance with Gill’s
aesthetic of composition.
The Guru’s
search for truth remains the main motif:
The truth
If there was one
was beyond those
dialectics
was beyond those
formal horizons.
And this great
quest finds its first eloquent and rich expression in the Japji
composed soon after the incident of his disappearance in and
emergence from the nearby rivulet. The Guru, then 36, had been
face to face with the Creator, and this divine experience
signalled the birth of a new Nanak. In Raag Talang, he
proclaims: "I broadcast what I receive from the Lord."
Gill’s rendering
of the Japji is effective, but it falls short of doing
full justice to its splendour and transcendent vision. The
pilgrim’s progress from Khand to Khand, or from
state to state is touched upon and we realise that the fourth
stage, Sach Khand, or the realm of truth, is the highest
virtue in Sikh values. In Bara Maha, the 12 months of the
calendar, from Chet to Phagun, have one common leitmotif —
that of the soul’s separation from the Lord, and the longing
for reunion. The spousal metaphor is copiously in evidence —
the eager bride, or wife, aching for consummation, or her
redemption. From mournful numbers to joyous harmonies, the long
poem translates all those urges and immediacies in a befitting
idiom.
It’s a pity,
however, that given his defined parameters, his scheme had to be
selective. I wish, though, he had touched upon Babarvani, composed
by Guru Nanak after Babar’s invasion of India in 1526. It
shows most movingly and poignantly the soulful anguish of the
Guru, having himself seen the horrendous horrors of pillage,
rapes and abductions by a lawless, brutal soldiery. It serves
both as a sermon and warning to the rulers, who jettisoning
their mandate, descend to the lowest depths of depravity. I can
understand Gill’s constraints, for the Adi Granth carries
as many as 958 hymns of Guru Nanak, and he found it hard to
exercise his choice. In the absence of sub-titles and a table of
contents, however, it’s an ordeal for the lay reader to
identify the hymns included in this discourse.
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