Sikhism·Raag Maajh·Shabad 89
Verse 70 of 90

Forgetting Leaves the Heart Bitter at the Root

ਸਲੋਕੁ ਮਃ ੧ ॥
salok mehlaa 1.
Shalok, First Mehl:
ਤੁਮੀ ਤੁਮਾ ਵਿਸੁ ਅਕੁ ਧਤੂਰਾ ਨਿਮੁ ਫਲੁ ॥
tumee tumaa vis ak Dhatooraa nim fal.
Bitter melon, swallow-wort, thorn-apple and nim fruit
ਮਨਿ ਮੁਖਿ ਵਸਹਿ ਤਿਸੁ ਜਿਸੁ ਤੂੰ ਚਿਤਿ ਨ ਆਵਹੀ ॥
man mukh vaseh tis jis tooN chit na aavhee.
-these bitter poisons lodge in the minds and mouths of those who do not remember You.
ਨਾਨਕ ਕਹੀਐ ਕਿਸੁ ਹੰਢਨਿ ਕਰਮਾ ਬਾਹਰੇ ॥੧॥
naanak kahee-ai kis handhan karmaa baahray. ||1||
O Nanak, how shall I tell them this? Without the karma of good deeds, they are only destroying themselves. ||1||

Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa

In plain words

Think of the most bitter, poisonous plants there are.

Guru Nanak says that same bitterness fills the minds and the mouths of people who never remember the One — their words and their thoughts turn bitter and harmful, even to themselves. How, he wonders sadly, can I get through to them? Without some good in their lives to turn them, they are only hurting themselves.

Forgetting the One doesn't leave a heart neutral but bitter — and the cure for that bitterness isn't trying harder to be less sour, but the remembrance that restores sweetness at the root.
The deeper layer

This short, sorrowful shalok is about what a heart that has forgotten the One tastes like from the inside. Guru Nanak names a row of famously bitter and poisonous plants — bitter melon, swallow-wort, thorn-apple, and nim — and says these bitter poisons lodge in the minds and mouths of those who do not remember You. It is a striking diagnosis: forgetting the One does not leave a person neutral; it leaves them bitter. The mind fills with bitterness, and it comes out in the mouth — bitter thoughts, bitter words, a sourness that poisons the one who carries it as much as anyone around them.

This is a compassionate observation, not a curse. We have all met the bitterness it describes — the soul soured by resentment, cynicism, and complaint — and we may have tasted it in ourselves in seasons of forgetting. Guru Nanak is pointing to a real cause: the bitterness grows where the sweetness of the One is absent. A heart with no remembrance to sweeten it ferments into something harsh. The cure for bitterness, then, is not merely trying to be less bitter; it is remembrance, which restores the sweetness at the root.

And the shalok ends not in condemnation but in a sigh of compassionate helplessness: how shall I tell them this? Guru Nanak aches to reach the bitter and forgetful, and feels the difficulty of it — you cannot simply argue a sour heart sweet. Without the karma of good deeds, they are only destroying themselves. The tragedy he names is self-inflicted and largely invisible to the one suffering it: the bitter heart is destroying itself, poisoning its own minutes, and cannot easily be told so. The tone to hear here is grief, not contempt — the sadness of watching someone drink poison they have mistaken for ordinary water, and longing for some good to enter their life and turn them toward the sweetness that would heal them.

A Question to Sit With

When bitterness creeps into your thoughts and words, what tends to be missing — and what restores the sweetness?

Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI

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