BE 3: Exploring the Udasis: Guru Nanak’s Epic Journeys of Enlightenment

Blog Episode 3 of Sikhism Series.

Guru Nanak Dev Ji’s nine Udasis—those monumental pilgrimages spanning over three decades and countless miles on weary feet—were no mere wanderings, but thunderous proclamations of Hari’s eternal truth against the gathering gales of division and tyranny. From the tender year 1500, when he was but 31, until his final breaths in 1539, Nanak traversed the breadth of Bharat, piercing the Himalayas’ icy veils, dipping into the southern seas’ embrace, and daring the desert sands of the crescent’s heartland. Accompanied often by his steadfast companion Bhai Mardana, whose rabab strings wove melodies of the divine, these journeys carried the Mool Mantar’s flame to Hindus ensnared in ritual’s chains, Muslims lost in caliphate’s shadows, and all souls adrift in Kalyug’s storm. Each Udasi was a divine decree, a rebellion against the Lodi and early Mughal shadows—those scimitar-hungry zealots who extorted jizya from Hindu hearths, shattered temple stones in iconoclastic frenzies, and herded the faithful into mosques’ maws for forced kalima oaths, their blades dripping with the blood of resisters who whispered Vedic mantras to the last. Nanak’s steps sowed seeds of unity, blooming Hindu bhakti’s pure nectar into a shield for dharma, urging all to chant Hari’s name as armor against the alien blade that carved kafir hearts for a foreign god’s altar. Here, we delve into these sacred odysseys, unearthing their luminous paths, miracles that mocked oppression, and teachings that still echo like rivers returning to the ocean.

The First Udasi (1500–1507): Eastern Flames Against Ritual’s Fog

Setting forth from Sultanpur in 1500, Nanak’s eastward pilgrimage—a grueling seven-year trek through the Gangetic plains and beyond—ignited against the Lodi Sultanate’s creeping venom, where Muslim taxmen looted Hindu villages, dragging women to harems’ horrors and beheading those who clung to Rama’s name. From Talwandi, where tearful parents Mehta Kalu and Mata Tripta blessed him after his divine plea for the world’s salvation, Nanak wove through Panipat’s battle-scarred fields to Delhi’s shadowed courts, then southward to Varanasi’s ghats and eastward to Assam’s misty hills, looping back via Saidpur (Eminabad) and Sialkot. Key halts burned with confrontation: In Eminabad, he shamed the corrupt Malik Bhago, squeezing blood from his ill-gotten feasts while milk flowed from humble Bhai Lalo’s bread—a miracle exposing exploitation’s rot, teaching that honest kirat alone feeds the soul. At Haridwar’s Baisakhi throng, Nanak hurled Ganges water westward to “water his Punjab fields,” shattering pilgrims’ superstitious dips with the truth: rituals reach no further than the eye’s deceit, for Hari’s grace alone quenches the ancestors’ thirst. In Gorakhmata’s yogic dens, he spurned Nath Jogis’ occult garb, singing of inner purity over ashes and earrings. Deeper in Reetha Sahib’s forests, soapnuts soured by desire turned sweet at his touch, a miracle unveiling salvation’s fruit in Hari’s remembrance, not forest flight.

Yet the journey’s jewel gleamed in Varanasi, where Pandit Chatur Das’s Brahmanical sciences crumbled before Nanak’s Dakhni Oankar, a cascade of 54 stanzas affirming Hari as the singular architect beyond Brahma’s illusions. And in Kamrup’s witch-haunted wilds, black magician Nurshah’s spells shattered like brittle chains, her temptations of gold and charms rebuked with shabads likening vice to a faithless bride—miracles that freed Mardana from enchantment, proclaiming dharma’s triumph over tantra’s tyranny. This Udasi, a fiery arc from Punjab’s rivers to Assam’s Brahmaputra, reclaimed Hindu hearts from ritual’s grip, whispering that Hari’s name dissolves all veils, a luminous call amid the sultanate’s encroaching night.

Consider this radiant shabad from that eastern blaze, a balm for the weary seeker:

Gurmukhi: ਧਰਮੁ ਨ ਚਲੈ ਪੰਡਿਤ ਮਨਮੁਖਿ ਨਾਹੀ ॥ ਗੁਣ ਗਾਵਹਿ ਨਿਤ ਨਿਤ ਨਾਮੁ ਜਪਾਵਹਿ ॥
Devanagari: धर्मु न चलै पंडित मनमुखि नाही ॥ गुण गावहि नित नित नामु जपावहि ॥
English: Dharma does not abide with the egotistical pandit; sing virtues daily, chant the Name.

Like dawn’s first blush caressing a frost-kissed meadow, this verse unfurls the soul’s hidden petals, inviting us to weave Hari’s glories into every breath—a silken thread that mends the heart’s fractures, turning the pandit’s hollow chants into a symphony of surrender, where ego’s thorns yield to the Divine’s tender bloom, and life dances in eternal, effortless grace.

The Second Udasi (1507–1513): Southern Seas and Shiva’s Shadows

Turning southward in 1506, Nanak’s seven-year odyssey plunged into Dravidia’s temple-veiled realms, a defiant stride against the Deccan sultans’ raids—those Pathan predators who torched Hindu agraharas, forcing conversions with cow-slaughter spectacles that spat on Vedic sanctity, their fatwas a noose around bhakti’s neck. From Puri’s Jagannath to Rameshwaram’s shores, skirting Karnataka’s Nilgiris to Gujarat’s Girnar and Sri Lanka’s emerald isles, Nanak’s feet traced over six thousand miles, challenging Shaivite lingams and Vaishnav idols alike. In Bidar’s parched outskirts, amid Muslim fakirs’ scornful huts, his toe birthed Nanak Jhira’s eternal spring—a miracle quenching thirsts born of drought, drawing even skeptics to Hari’s well. At Somnath’s eternal shrine, razed six times by Mahmud of Ghazni’s jihadist hammers, Nanak decried Shivling worship as stone-bound folly, freeing devotees from ritual’s yoke. In Omkareshwar’s lingam halls, Dakhni Oankar thundered anew, equating “Om” not to trinity’s forms but Hari’s formless pulse, a discourse that humbled pundits peddling Sanskrit as salvation’s sole tongue.

Deeper south, in Vijaywada’s cannibal-haunted woods, Kauda Rakshas’s bloodied jaws stilled at Nanak’s gaze, the beast transformed into a Sikh through compassion’s alchemy— a teaching that even dharma’s devourers can kneel before Hari’s mercy. Sri Lanka’s Raja Shivnabh, amid Batticaloa’s blooms, tested Nanak with withered gardens and seductive dancers, only for flora to revive and temptresses to bow, his Mool Mantar debate vanquishing Buddhist bhikshus in Anuradhapura’s halls. En route, Namdev and Trilochan’s banis were gathered like sacred pearls, weaving southern bhakti into Granth’s crown. This Udasi, a southern monsoon of truth, washed away idol dust, affirming Sikhism’s Hindu roots as a purifying river against the sultans’ desecrating floods.

From these sun-drenched paths emerges a shabad like a lotus rising from muddy depths:

Gurmukhi: ਗੁਰ ਪਰਸਾਦਿ ਭਗਤਿ ਪਵੈ ॥ ਗੁਰ ਪਰਸਾਦਿ ਦੁਖੁ ਨਹੀ ਜਾਇ ॥
Devanagari: गुर परसादि भगति पवै ॥ गुर परसादि दुखु नही जाई ॥
English: By Guru’s grace, devotion dawns; by Guru’s grace, sorrow flees.

Envision a weary traveler, parched under noonday blaze, who sips from a hidden spring—thus does this couplet quench the spirit’s thirst, the Guru’s touch a cascade of light that scatters shadows like mist before the sun, birthing devotion as a wildflower’s bloom, effortless and eternal, where every pang of parting dissolves into Hari’s welcoming arms, a homecoming wrapped in whispers of unending peace.

The Third Udasi (1513–1516): Himalayan Heights and Northern Lights

In 1514, Nanak ascended northward, a five-year pilgrimage into the snow-crowned realms, defying the Timurid echoes in Kashmir’s valleys where Muslim governors extorted Hindu pandits, veiling women in burqas’ shame and branding resisters with hot irons for clinging to Vishnu’s name. From Srinagar’s bustling bazaars to Tibet’s Lhasa and Sikkim’s sacred lakes, via Kullu, Manali, and Leh’s stark passes, Nanak’s path pierced oppression’s chill. In Srinagar, arrogant Pandit Brahm Das’s camel-load of shastras toppled before Maru Raag’s primordial vision—no earth, no sky, only Hari’s will—a teaching that humbled the scholar, sending him as a disciple to spread truth amid caliphate whispers. At Gurudongmar’s frozen expanse, Nanak’s touch thawed the lake forever, its waters blessed for barren wombs and fading vigor, miracles that turned Tibetan lamas from Gelugpa persecutions to Rimpoche reverence, their gompas enshrining his robe and kamandal.

In Mattan’s ancient Martand, another Brahm Das bowed to the folly of endless scrolls without Hari’s name, his conversion a spark against Kashmiri fatwas that would later summon Guru Tegh Bahadur’s sacrifice. At Nanak Mata’s yogic lair, occult fires flickered futilely while Nanak’s blazed unquenched, the uprooted pipal stilled by his palm—a site reclaimed from Nath exploitation, teaching that true sidh lies in service, not spells. This northern quest, from Khyber’s winds to Kailash’s summit, fortified dharma’s peaks, a Hindu sentinel against the crescent’s creeping frost.

A shabad from these heights soars like an eagle’s cry:

Gurmukhi: ਪੜਿ ਪੜਿ ਪੰਡਿਤੁ ਭੁਲਿਆ ਅੰਧੇ ਨਾ ਵੇਖੈ ਪਾਇ ॥
Devanagari: पढ़ि पढ़ि पंडितु भुलिया अंधे ना देखै पाई ॥
English: The pandit, lost in endless reading, blind, sees not the path.

Picture a moth fluttering toward a distant flame, wings singed by illusion’s glow—such is the pandit’s plight, ensnared in letters’ labyrinth, yet this verse is the gentle hand that turns him toward Hari’s true dawn, where scrolls fall like autumn leaves, revealing the path as a sunlit meadow, each step a revelation of the Divine’s boundless, guiding light, freeing the soul to fly unburdened into eternity’s embrace.

The Fourth Udasi (1516–1519): Western Sands and Crescent’s Core

Nanak’s final three-year journey westward in 1519 took him deep into the heart of Islamic lands, a bold step into areas ruled by sultans whose ancestors had already hurt Punjab with jihads—burning temples, forcing people to cut skin for their faith, and making Hindus say the kalima prayer or face death. From Pakpattan in Pakistan, where he visited Sufi shrines and liked some verses from Sheikh Farid that fit his teachings, Nanak went to Sindh’s ports. Then, crossing hot deserts, he reached Jeddah by boat from Somniani, and walked to Mecca. With his friends Mardana and Taaj-ud-din, he wore blue Hajji robes, his feet tired from sands in Karachi to minarets in Baghdad.

In Multan and Lakhpat, he blessed people with his words. Westward for three years, crossing Thar’s burning dunes into Persia, Iraq, and Arabia—covering about 12,000 miles—Nanak donned blue robes in Mecca, turning his feet toward the Kaaba to teach that prayer has no fixed direction because Hari is everywhere. At Medina and Baghdad, he inscribed “Nanak Shah” on mosques, uniting Sufis and saints against strict rules that chain the spirit.

The famous Mecca miracle: Nanak slept with his feet toward the Kaaba, the sacred black stone. Angry mullahs and qazis scolded him and kicked his feet away, but a wonder happened—the Kaaba rotated with his feet, spinning to show Hari’s presence in all directions, not just one way. This proved prayer is in the heart, not tied to places or qibla faces. The qazi Rukn-ud-din fell humbled, kissing Nanak’s feet in awe, his eyes opened to truth.

In Baghdad, followers of Pir Dastgir bowed to his shabads, which said worshiping tombs is like ignoring Hari’s real light. Medina’s sands heard calls for true namaz inside the soul, not just outward shows.

Returning home via Basra, Karbala, Tehran, Bukhara, and Kabul—stopping at Jalalabad’s cool springs and Peshawar’s Gorakh Hatri—Nanak left his palm print on a boulder at Hassan Abdal, stopping a jealous fakir’s thrown rock with his hand’s mark. This journey was a desert wind of truth, breaking the caliphate’s false dreams, showing Sikhism’s Vedic heart as a gentle sword against Islam’s strict rules. Hari’s name turns any stone, even Mecca’s, into a forge for the spirit.

From Mecca’s sands comes a shabad like a cool oasis palm in the heat:

Gurmukhi: ਰੋਜਾ ਧਰੈ ਨਿਵਾਜ ਗੁਜਾਰੈ ਕਲਮਾ ਭਿਸਤਿ ਨ ਹੋਈ ॥
Devanagari: रोजा धरै निवाज गुजारै कलमा भिस्ति न होई ॥
English: Keeping fasts, doing prayers, chanting kalima—paradise is not gained this way.

This shabad is like a clear spring in a dry desert, offering real water where mirages fool the thirsty. It says empty rituals—like fasting or praying outward without heart—are just illusions, promising heaven but giving nothing. True peace comes from inner love for Hari, like a simple drink that quenches forever, washing away fake rules and filling your soul with the Divine’s gentle, flowing mercy, guiding you home on paths of real joy and light.

These Udasis, etched in Gurbani’s gold, were Nanak’s gift—a Hindu-rooted renaissance blooming amid invasion’s thorns, calling Sikhs and Hindus to unite in Hari’s name, unbowed by the crescent’s crimson legacy.

Fifth Udasi: Return and Kartarpur’s Eternal Light (1519-1521)

Circling back through Punjab’s riversides, this final two-year phase consolidated teachings, founding Kartarpur as a community of equals—farmers, warriors, women sharing langar. He visited Multan’s Sufi shrines, gifting saints a cup of amrit-like unity.

A closing doha on ego’s dissolution:

Gurmukhi: ਜਪੁਜੀ ਸਾਹਿਬ ॥ ਗਾਵੈ ਕੋ ਵੇਖੈ ਹਾਦਰਾ ਹਦੂਰਿ ॥ ਕਥਨਾ ਕਥੀ ਨ ਆਵੈ ਤੋਟਿ ॥ ਕਥਿ ਕਥਿ ਕੋਟੀ ਕੋਟਿ ਕੋਟਿ ॥੧॥

Devanagari: जपुजी साहिब ॥ गावै को वेखै हादरा हदूरि ॥ कथना कथी न आवै तोटि ॥ कथि कथि कोटी कोटि कोटि ॥१॥

English Translation: Japuji Sahib: Some sing of His presence, seeing Him ever near. Words cannot describe Him; they fall short. Speaking and speaking, millions upon millions speak. (1)

As countless voices try to capture a sunset’s glow but fade in awe, this verse humbly bows to Hari’s vastness—beyond words, yet felt in silent meditation, like ocean waves merging into infinity, urging us to live in wonder rather than chatter.

Though woven as five, sub-phases like brief returns mark nine in lore: each a petal in Nanak’s lotus of wisdom. His Udasis birthed a revolution—equality’s banner against tyranny, where Hari’s Naam shields all, echoing eternally in gurdwaras’ kirtan, a timeless river nourishing souls through ages of storm.

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