Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
Picture a day in four parts. In the early-morning hours, those who praise the One with a single, focused heart are like true kings — and when their time comes, they meet even death bravely, like warriors who fall fighting.
But as the day moves into its second part, the mind scatters a hundred ways, and so many tumble into a pit they can't climb out of. In the third part, hunger and thirst start barking, and we keep stuffing food in — though all of it, in the end, just turns to dust, and still we cling to eating. In the fourth part, drowsiness comes; we close our eyes and dream. Then we wake and throw ourselves straight back into our quarrels and our plans, building as if we'll live a hundred years.
But if, through every part of every day, a person lives in loving awe of the One, then the One comes to live in them — and that, not any holy river, is the truly cleansing bath.
This verse walks through an ordinary day and says: carry loving awe of the One through every part of it, and the whole day becomes clean and holy.
In Guru Nanak's time, day and night were split into pahar, "watches," blocks of a few hours each. This verse follows the four watches of a day. It's a cousin of the songs called Pehray, which see a whole life as four watches of the night.
The first watch is early morning. "Sabaahee saalaah jinee Dhi-aa-i-aa ik man" — those who praise the One at dawn with a focused heart. "Say-ee pooray saah" — they are the true kings. When their time comes, they meet even death bravely, like soldiers who fall fighting. That's time well used: calm remembering at the fresh start of the day, giving a courage that lasts to the end.
Then the day starts slipping away. In the second watch, "man kee-aa matee khindee-aa" — the mind scatters in all directions. Many fall into a deep pit and can't climb out. In the third watch, "bhukh tikhaa du-ay bha-ukee-aa" — hunger and thirst bark like dogs. We eat. "KhaaDhaa ho-ay su-aah" — what's eaten turns to dust, yet we still cling to eating. In the fourth watch, sleepiness comes, and dreams. Then we wake and jump back into arguments, making plans "as if we'll live a hundred years."
It's a very honest picture of a normal day. A short, clear morning. Then scattered thoughts, snacks, a nap, squabbles. Hours slip by, and the soul's real work is mostly forgotten. Think of a day where you meant to do something important and then scrolled, snacked and argued it away.
But the verse doesn't scold. It offers the one thing that fixes all four watches. "Sabhay vaylaa vakhat sabh jay athee bha-o ho-ay" — if at every moment there is bha-o, loving awe of the One. Then "naanak saahib man vasai sachaa naavan ho-ay" — Nanak says, the Master lives in your mind, and that is the true bath. The point isn't to escape an ordinary day. It's to carry the One through it. Do that, and your whole day becomes a holy bath, cleaning you not with river water but with remembering.
Across the four 'watches' of your own day, where does your attention scatter most — and could remembrance be carried even there?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI