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BE 5: Third Guru – Guru Amar Das – The Ocean of Wisdom

In the quiet village of Basarke, near the gentle flow of the Beas River in Punjab—now part of Amritsar district—a wise soul was born on May 23, 1479, on a Sunday under the full moon of Baisakh in the Hindu calendar year Samvat 1536. This was Guru Amar Das Ji, the third Guru of Sikhism, born to a simple Hindu family from the Bhalla Khatri clan, where daily life followed the old ways of Sanatan Dharma with prayers and honest work. His father, Tej Bhan Bhalla, was a hardworking farmer and trader who grew crops and sold goods fairly, living by the Vedic idea of kirat—earning through truth. His mother, Mata Bakht Kaur—also known as Mata Lachmi Devi (also known as Lakshmi Devi)—filled their home with love and devotion, her quiet faith like a soft light guiding the family. As the eldest son, Amar Das grew up with his three younger brothers, Ishar Das, Khem Rai, and Manak Chand, sharing simple joys and Hindu festivals. From a young age, he joined family trips to holy places like Haridwar, where the Ganges River’s waters and Yamuna’s flow sparked his heart’s search for deeper truth about the Divine.

Life brought early sadness. At around 24, Amar Das married Mata Mansa Devi, a kind woman from a good family in the nearby village of Sankhatra. They had four children together: two sons, Mohan and Mohri, and two daughters, Bibi Dani and Bibi Bhani. Bibi Dani was the elder daughter, and Bibi Bhani was the younger one. Bibi Bhani later married Bhai Jetha, who became Guru Ram Das. Sadly, Mata Mansa Devi passed away when the children were still young, leaving Amar Das to raise them alone as a widower. He later remarried Mata Mansa Devi (a different woman with the same name in some records), but the early loss made him think even more about life’s true meaning. For over 20 years, he lived as a shopkeeper in Basarke, going on pilgrimages to Haridwar and Kurukshetra, offering water to ancestors with a heavy heart, feeling an inner emptiness that rituals couldn’t fill. Punjab was a hard place then, with Mughal rulers like Humayun and Sher Shah Suri fighting for power, their soldiers taxing Hindus harshly with jizya and sometimes burning villages, foreshadowing worse times under Aurangzeb.

That inner light came at age 73 in 1552. One day, while visiting his niece Bibi Amro in Khadur Sahib—she was the daughter of his brother Manak Chand and was married to Guru Angad’s nephew Jasu (or Dasu)—Amar Das heard her sing the Anand Sahib: “ਅਨੰਦੁ ਭਇਆ ਮੇਰੀ ਮਾਏ ਸਤਿਗੁਰੂ ਮੈ ਪਾਇਆ ॥” (Bliss has come, O mother, for I have found the True Guru). The words touched him like cool rain on dry earth, melting years of doubt. He rushed to Guru Angad, falling at his feet in deep respect. For 12 years, this older man served like a young helper—washing pots until his hands were rough, grinding grain by hand through long nights, his age no barrier to selfless work called sewa. Guru Angad Dev tested him three times, sending him to Haridwar for pilgrimages, only to call him back halfway, teaching that true holiness is in the Guru’s presence, not far-off rivers. On April 16, 1552, Guru Angad named Amar Das as the third Guru at Basarke, where villagers once called the “old man” mad for his devotion. At 73, he became the light for thousands, his wisdom like an ocean deep and wide.

Guru Amar Das’s life was a gentle flow of growth and change. He moved to Goindwal in 1552, building it as a holy town on the Beas River, a place for all to gather. He broke old customs: banning sati, where widows burned on funeral pyres, saying women’s lives are sacred gifts from Hari; and ending purdah, the veil that hid women, letting them walk free and equal in dharma’s light. These ideas came from Hindu bhakti’s equal love for all, like the Gita’s call to see everyone as one. He made the Anand Karaj, a joyful wedding rite where couples promise to live as partners in Hari’s path. He traveled Punjab, sending 22 preachers called manjis to spread teachings, from Majha to Malwa, even to Bengal and Delhi. In 1560, Emperor Akbar visited, impressed by langar—free meals for all—and offered land, but the Guru said no, for dharma needs no king’s gift. His 907 hymns in the Guru Granth Sahib mix Punjabi and Hindi, full of joy in Hari’s name.

Here’s a beautiful teaching from Guru Amar Das, like a soft river of peace:

Gurmukhi: ਹਰਿ ਜਨੁ ਹਰਿ ਜਨੁ ਕਹਾਵੈ ਸੋਈ ॥ ਹਰਿ ਭਗਤਿ ਭਗਤਿ ਕਰਿ ਰਸਨਾ ਗਾਵੈ ॥
Devanagari: हरि जनु हरि जनु कहावै सोई ॥ हरि भगति भगति करि रसना गावै ॥
English: The true servant of Hari sings His glory with a devoted heart and tongue.

This teaching is like a bird singing sweetly at dawn, its voice full of love for the sky. It says that those who truly love Hari are like His own family, their hearts and words always praising Him. It’s not just saying words—it’s singing with joy from deep inside, like a flower opening to the sun. When you do this, your life becomes a song, your heart blooming with Hari’s light, wrapped in the Divine’s warm, endless hug that makes every day feel like a gift of peace and beauty.

Another hymn flows like a calm stream:

Gurmukhi: ਗੁਰੁ ਪਰਸਾਦਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਪਾਇਆ ਵੀਚਾਰੁ ॥ ਗੁਰੁ ਪਰਸਾਦਿ ਭਗਤਿ ਪਾਈ ਭਗਤਿ ਵਸੈ ਮਨਿ ਅਪਾਰੁ ॥
Devanagari: गुरु परसादि नामु पाइआ विचारु ॥ गुरु परसादि भगति पाई भगति वसै मनि अपारु ॥
English: By the Guru’s grace, you find the Name through thought; by grace, devotion comes, and endless devotion lives in the heart.

This verse is like a seed growing into a tall tree, strong and full of life. It says the Guru’s kindness helps you think deeply and find Hari’s name, like a light turning on in a dark room. Devotion then fills your heart, big and without end, like a river that never stops flowing. It’s a gentle gift from the Divine, making your soul feel full and happy, guiding you through life’s ups and downs with a quiet joy that comes from loving Hari more each day.

But wisdom faced hard tests under Emperor Akbar’s rule, a time of uneasy peace with Mughal power growing. Akbar’s men came to Goindwal in 1560, demanding the Guru bow to the throne and pay taxes, their eyes hungry for control like the old sultans who forced jizya on Hindus. Deeper pain came from zamindars, cruel landowners loyal to Mughals, who burned Sikh farms to steal land, their fires eating golden wheat while they dragged Hindu and Sikh women to dark places for harm, calling it “making them follow Islam.” These men, full of bad desires, killed cows in front of villages to hurt Hindu hearts, their knives dripping with hate as they laughed. Guru Amar Das gathered his people like a shepherd, training young men with sticks and words to defend homes, saving girls from those evil hands. For this, mullahs sent angry orders called fatwas, calling him a rebel against their god, spies sneaking into manjis to spread lies. But Amar Das’s calm was like a deep sea, untouched by waves, his love a shield from the storm of their whips and rules.

Guru Amar Das’s gifts to Sikhism were like rivers feeding a thirsty land. He set up 22 manjis—preaching spots like small thrones—each led by a trusted Sikh to teach far and wide, from Punjab’s corners to distant places. His greatest joy was Baoli Sahib in Goindwal, dug in 1559 with 84 steps leading to cool water, each step washing away one birth in the cycle of life, a dip like freedom from endless coming and going. Pilgrims came in crowds, stepping down to amrit’s touch, langar feeding them all without asking caste or faith. Akbar climbed those steps himself, moved by the Guru’s kindness, offering 500 acres of land, but Amar Das said no—dharma stands on its own. In 1569, Akbar granted no pilgrim tax for Hindus going to Haridwar, a small win from the Guru’s wise words.

On September 1, 1574, at 95, Guru Amar Das joined Hari at Goindwal, naming Guru Ram Das as the fourth Guru after tests that showed true heart over show. His holy spots live on: Gurdwara Baoli Sahib in Goindwal, where steps still call for peace; Gurdwara Guru Ka Bagh in Basarke, his birth home; Gurdwara Tapa Mandi in Amritsar, marking early sewa; and Gurdwara Chheharta Sahib, where he escaped dangers. These places are like warm homes for the soul, the Beas River singing his Anand Sahib, a song of bliss in Hari.

Guru Amar Das’s life mirrored Hindu teacher lines, calling Hari as the safe place from harsh rules and angry orders. In his wide ocean, Sikhism grew deeper in Hindu ways, a sea that swallows hate’s drops, its waves a promise: wisdom’s flow will quiet the storm’s noise.

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