Restoration of a child

I remember when my family and I moved to Indore when I was three. My earliest memories of Indore are of our lovely neighbours who showered me with affection, going to a new school with a ponytail, my Mom always buying similar clothes for my brother and me, and our Sunday visits to the Gurudwara near our home.

My paternal family has always been closely associated with Gurudwaras. My grandfather still serves as the Treasurer of the Gurudwara in his town. My father is very spiritual; you can feel his connection with God in the way he performs his religious rituals. My Mom, who is also very religious, celebrates each festival and performs its rituals with utmost dedication. When we moved to Indore, away from our extended family, she decided that we needed to do something that would keep her children connected to our beliefs. Hence, the practice of visiting the Gurudwara every Sunday morning began.

What started as a practice soon became a way of life. It was that one fixed time when we would all do something together as a family a weekly family ritual. No matter what happened throughout the week fights, disagreements, or resentments we would all do this together, without fail. It gave me a sense of belonging and integration. As we had very limited resources, it also felt like a special family outing.

The Gurudwara near our house has always been very special for these reasons and more. It has a powerful yet calming energy. It would attract crowds from all over Indore, no matter how far people lived. In my childhood, as soon as I entered the Gurudwara and walked towards the Jodaghar (the place where shoes are kept), I could feel an energy within me changing. It kept intensifying as I walked up the stairs and reached its peak as I entered the Darbar (the main hall). It felt as if someone had opened the cap of a shaken soda bottle, and the soda just burst out. That is how I felt my energy in the Darbar. With the melodious voices of the hymns (Shabads) being sung, as I walked towards the Takht (the elevated throne), I would smile and experience joy and a feeling of surrender, which would completely take over as I offered my prayer and bowed down to the Guru Granth Sahib.

I would sit with Dad and Bhai, simply letting myself become immersed in the experience of surrender and calmness in the Darbar, listening to the Shabads, diligently listening to the stories (Katha), standing while offering prayer (Ardaas) as a community, or listening to the MukhVakh (the Guru's message for the day). I would feel the energy of the Darbar further intensify when everyone started chanting (Simran) as the Karah Parshad (a sacred sweet) was distributed. It felt like going into a trance, an experience of ecstasy.

Then would come the time for Langar, where we would sit together with everyone and have a meal. In my early childhood, the Langar Parshad used to be Poha Jalebi, a typical Indore breakfast, or sometimes Sev (a savory snack) with Meethi Boondi (sweetened chickpea pearls). Whenever there was Sev Boondi, Bhai and I were very happy. We always wanted more, but we were given only one plate per person, which made us a little sad but also taught us one of Guru Nanak Dev Ji’s core teachings: Vand Chakho (to share with others).