Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
I was down at the bottom of a deep, dark well — and you reached in and lifted me out onto solid, dry ground.
One glance of your grace, and everything changed. Now I sing your praises — and here's the wonder: the more they're sung and heard, the more there is of them. They never run out.
This is the most personal, grateful verse of the song. It begins with a rescue.
AnDh koop tay kandhai chaarhay — You pulled me out of the deep, dark well onto dry ground. The anDh koop, the dark well, is a picture Gurbani uses often. It stands for a life stuck in ego and Maya: fallen in, unable to climb out, the circle of light far above. The soul didn't rescue itself. It was pulled out and set down on safe, dry ground — like a firefighter lifting someone out and wrapping them in a blanket.
And the rescue came through a single look: kar kirpaa daas nadar nihaalay — in Your mercy, You looked on Your servant with grace. Nadar means the kind glance of grace. It wasn't a long bargain or a prize earned over years. One glance of grace reached down into the pit. The tradition holds that the deciding move is always the One's, and it comes as a gift.
The verse ends with a small wonder about thankfulness: kahi sun tot na aavani-aa — by speaking and hearing, the praises are never used up. Tot means running short. Most things shrink when you use them. Spend money and it's gone. Eat a sandwich and it's eaten. The One's praises are the opposite: the more they're sung and heard, the more there are. Thankfulness is the one thing that grows when you spend it. Gun gaavahi pooran abhinaasee — they sing of the Perfect, Undying One. This echoes Japji Sahib, where the Giver's gifts never run dry. Here it is felt from the inside, by a soul pulled from a well who can't stop singing — and finds the song only grows.
Has someone ever pulled you out of a 'pit' you couldn't climb out of yourself — and did you ever fully thank them?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI