Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
How blessed they are, those people who truly know the One! I would go straight to them and ask them everything about it. I would wash their feet, rub them clean with my own hands — gladly, humbly. Because to sit with them is to drink that sweetness, and I want it more than anything.
Dhan dhan har jan — "blessed, blessed are those who know the One." The doubling of dhan (blessed/praise) is the seeker's heart overflowing with reverence for the awakened. These are not distant holy figures; they are jan, humble servants, and the seeker wants to jaae puchhaa — go and ask them, like a student running to a teacher with questions about the thing she loves most.
The startling line is the gesture of service: paav malovaa mal mal dhovaa — "I would wash and rub their feet." In the world's eyes, washing someone's feet is the lowest task, the servant's job. The seeker offers it joyfully. This is the practical death of haumai: the ego that needs to be above others is replaced by a self that gladly kneels. And crucially, it is not self-abasement for its own sake — it is because of what flows from that nearness: mil har jan har ras peechai, "joining the servants, I drink the sweetness."
The teaching here is intimate and radical: spiritual nourishment comes not from being served but from serving; not from status but from humility. The lower you are willing to kneel before those who carry the light, the more of the ras you receive. The bridal longing of Raag Maajh meets here the posture of seva (loving service) — the lover will do anything, even the humblest thing, to be near the Beloved's people.
When was the last time you did something humble for someone you admire — not because you had to, but because you wanted to be near them? How did it feel?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI