The Source Book On Sikhism

The Sweetness of Death

Chamkor (now in the Tahsil of Ropar, Panjab) had a small fortress, which Gobind Singh occupied. He had then with him about forty disciples, and his two elder sons, Ajit Singh and Jujhar Singh - the former being fifteen years old, and the latter thirteen. But soon the Imperial army, which was in hot pursuit, besieged this fortress also, and there was no way out but to fight and die one by one. The disciples held the fortress a long time, baffling the calculation of the enemy as the Master kept up an incessant shower of his gold-tipped arrows. The disciples one by one would sally out, waving their swords in the midst of the enemy, and die. Ajit Singh entreated his father to let him also go and die, as his brothers were dying before his eyes. “O father! I feel an intense desire for this death, and the feeling rises supreme in my breast that I must go and fight and share this last honour with my brothers!” The father lovingly embraced the boy, decorated him with sword and shield, dressed him fully as a soldier, and kissed him. “Go my child! Akal Pursha so wills.” Ajit Singh rode a horse into the thick of the battle, and waving his sword and crying, "Sat Sri Akal, Sat Sri Akal", departed for the true Kartarpur of Guru Nanak. Gobind Singh saw him go, closed his eyes in prayer, and accompanied the soul of Ajit Singh for a little distance beyond death's door till the boy was among the celestials. As the father opened his eyes, he saw the little one Jujhar Singh standing before him with folded hands with the same entreaty on his lips. “Father, I, too, wish to go where my brother has gone.” “You are too young to fight”, said the father. “What is age, father? Have I not drunk my mother’s milk, and have I not tasted the sacred Amritam? Bless me, father, and let me go.” Gobind Singh took the little one in his lap, washed his face, dressed him in a beautiful velvet suit embroidered with gold and silver, put a small belt round his little waist, and gave him a miniature sword. He wound a turban on his head, decorated it with a little crest, and kissed him. “My child”, said he, “we do not belong to this earth. our ancestors live with the Akal Pursha. You are now going; go and wait for me there”. The child had gone but a little distance when he returned and said he was feeling thirsty. Gobind Singh again said, “Go, my child! There is no water for you on this earth. See younger, there is the cup of Nectar for you where your brother lies.” This child then rode the way his brother had gone.