1.
The
wonders of the heavens.
First
look up to the outspread heavens not in the noontide of light nor in the moonshine,
for then the fine architecture of space is eclipsed by the Titans of the
heaven, I mean the sun and the moon, but look up to the sky on a dark cloudless
night when the whole firmament is aglow with clusters of myriad of stars
arranged in the most exquisite pattern, whose scintillating light is more
refulgent than any earthly Koh-i-noor. Halfway, across the circle of the
heaven, very much like a diameter, you will find the celestial Ganges, I mean
the Milky Way, which is the holiest of all heavenly streams, and to bathe in
which planets travel across enormous distances like pilgrims bound for Amritsar
and they go round and round in endless cycles at breakneck speed, for is not
meritorious to have as many dips as possible before the planet is wiped out
from existence and falls away like an errant meteor? On either side of this
celestial-Ganges, you have the host of the heaven, millions of little, yet live
starts all bound up in one elusive design unknown to the mortals. Farther up to
the north, you find the Great Bear (Ursa major), on one side, and that heavenly
W-(Causiopea on the other side, on which god sits, each a little cluster of
pre-eminent stars, more aptly rishis as we call them in India, for a rishi is
one who sees, and these holy sages sitting up above, do see us from their
vantage ground: they are the follies of the mortals and their petty concerns
and engagements: they see and see but are nor tired nor vexed by the vanity of
man, for they look forward to the day when the swords would be beaten into
ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks, when the bloody hatchet will be
buried, and the poison gases swamped by the ambrosial rain, when brother will
embrace brother, the Hindu loving his neighbour, the Mohamadan and both
clasping their common brother the Sikh, yes they look forward ever and ever to
that Day and while doing so they dance and dance round the pivotal point of the
heaven, the pole-star, which sits unmoved, silent spectator of the
phantagasmoria of the universe. The Dhru is the axle on which the universe
revolves, but it is unmoved itself. Look up to this merry-go-round of the
heavens with the pivotal point in between, and I ask you to pause and consider
for one moment as to whether is or there is not any power which keeps the Dhru
in its place the unmoved. Mover of all the movement? Is this ceaseless change
with a nucleus of stability accidental fortuitous, a chance? No brethren it
cannot be, think deep in your heart of hearts and you will yourself come to the
conclusion that there must be some power behind the veil of the world which
ordains all, sustains all, innervates all, and which, therefore is the Primal
Power worthy of worship. In the ambrosial hour of morn, at about 4 A.M. when I
get up every day, I bow my head to this pivot of the heavens, the Dhru or
better the Dhru axis of the universe, but I do not bow to this or that star,
nor even to the sun, but to that Primal Power the Nirankar who lighteth the
very light. I have read the heavens rather minutely and I have no hesitation in
saying that it is a mighty chess-board, on which as may be expected, there are
two opposed parties, the teeming Kauros on the one side and the pure-Pandos, on
the other side, with the celestial-Ganges as the parting boundary, and there is
endless fight between these celestial hosts who also cast their shadow on the
earth, but the fight takes place during the daytime only, under the captaincy
of the sun, for in night they are all quiet once more; the blind Dhritrashtra
sits somewhere in the Dhru-star detached from the scene of activities but
actively listening, while the Hero of the Day, our Lord Guru Gobind Singh is
here, and there every where marching his armies on to success, to unqualified
success, for is he not the Nirankar, the Formless One crystallised? Let us then
be certain that the Nirankar does exist, and that all that is on this earth is
merely His shadow, the Nirankar is hidden behind the pole star, but though
hidden, He is nonetheless real — as real as you or I.
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