The Rare Ones Simply Turned Their Cup Upright

Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa

This verse says the nectar of grace is raining on everyone, all the time, but only a few catch it and drink.

The song picks up where the last one ended, still full of amrit, nectar. Now it adds a new picture. "Amrit varsai sahj subhaa-ay" — the nectar rains down, softly and naturally. Raag Maajh is linked with the rainy season, the monsoon. Here the One's sweetness is a gentle rain that never stops. Grace isn't locked away in some far-off heaven and handed out rarely. It's already falling, all around us. Sikh teachers say grace is always showing itself.

The key word is sahj: softly, naturally, with no strain. This rain doesn't come with thunder. It falls gently, because that's its nature. So grace isn't a big prize you have to wrestle from the sky. It's the quiet, steady way things are, falling like morning dew whether anyone notices or not. Sweetness is the normal state, not the rare one.

So why is the person who drinks it virlaa, rare? That's the gentle puzzle of the song. The rain falls on everyone, but few catch it. It isn't because the One has favorites. Most of us are rushing around holding our cups upside down. We're too busy and too full of our own wants to hold still and let the rain collect. The gurmukh, the one facing the Guru's light, has simply turned the cup right side up. So the same rain actually fills them.

Grace falls on all. Catching it is rare. And those who drink are "tariptaasay," satisfied forever. Their tarisnaa, the endless thirst from the last song, is finally put out by a rain that was always falling.