Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
The blessings of the oneness are so abundant they cannot be written down. The great Giver keeps giving freely, and wants nothing at all in return — not even a sesame seed's worth.
So many come asking — warriors of immense power, seekers beyond counting. So many waste themselves in corruption. So many take and take, and then deny they ever received anything. So many keep consuming, unable to stop. So many live under the weight of pain, hunger, and hardship.
And even these — even the pain, even the difficulty, even the hardship — these too are your gifts, O great Giver.
Liberation from bondage comes only by the will of the oneness. No one else can claim to control this. If someone presumes to say they can — they will discover the cost of that claim.
The oneness itself knows. The oneness itself gives. Very few — a rare few — truly acknowledge this.
The one to whom the gift of genuine praise and gratitude is given — Nanak says — that one is the king of kings.
The One gives to everyone — freely, without keeping count, and without wanting even a sesame seed back.
Daataa means Giver. The Giver's gifts are so many they cannot be written down. And look who receives: the mighty warriors who come asking, the countless who think about the One — and also those who waste themselves in wrongdoing, those who take and then deny they ever received, and those who keep consuming without stopping. All of them are given to from the same source.
Til na tamaa-ay — not a sesame seed of wanting anything back. The teaching tradition says Guru Nanak describes the Giver this way partly to hold up a mirror to how we give. Even our kindest giving usually keeps a hidden sesame seed for ourselves: the good feeling, the thank-you we hope for, the quiet pride in being generous. The One gives with none of that — no score, no expectation, no self in the giving at all. And the pauri's first word, karam, is the same Persian word for grace and mercy that closed the pauri before. So the whole list of gifts is framed, from its first breath, as grace — not a trade.
Then the hardest line: ayhi bhe daat tayree daataar — even these are Your gifts, O Giver. "These" means the distress, hunger and abuse in the line before. Guru Nanak is not saying suffering is good, or that it should be left alone. He is saying something deeper: nothing falls outside the One's care. Even the hardest days of a life are held by the same source that holds everything else. Nothing is abandoned.
The tradition explains how hardship can become a gift without ever pretending it is good. Hard times can use up every other option. A person who has tried everything and everyone may finally turn, with nothing left, and simply reach out. In that open, honest reaching — no cleverness, no control — they touch the same longing the great seekers know. Suffering has walked them to the door of surrender. There is a plainer lesson too, useful every day. Much of our pain lives in the gap between what we expected and what actually happened. Loosen your grip on what you expected, meet what is really here, and a surprising amount of that pain melts away. This is about how we hold what happens, inside ourselves. It never means anyone deserves the hardship that comes to them.
One thing this line never means: if someone is hurting you, that is not a gift to accept. You deserve protection, and telling someone is right.
Band khalaasee bhaanai ho-ay / hor aakh na sakai ko-ay — freedom from what binds us comes only through the One's will; no one else has any say. Real freedom cannot be made, bought, or handed out by anyone. It comes from the One alone, by grace. No institution stands between a person and their source. And anyone who claims otherwise, Guru Nanak says, will find out what that claim costs.
The closing picture: the one who is given the gift of praising the One is the king of kings. True royalty is inside. A person who sees the One clearly and answers with thanks is more royal than any king with a crown.
Can you think of something genuinely difficult in your life — a hardship or a struggle — that you later came to see as something that shaped you in an important way? What shifted in how you saw it?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI