Waheguru the Inner Thermometer

AI Sketch of my Dad S Vasdev Singh

Being a Sikh, I was always taught by my parents and elders to remember Waheguru in joy, in distress, and in every moment of life. It is our way of accepting His will and staying in gratitude.

As a child, my mother would often tell me about my father. Whenever he fell ill or had a high fever, he would automatically begin reciting, “Waheguru, Waheguru, Waheguru.”
She would gently say, “The way he is taking Waheguru’s name, I can tell his fever is high.”

In those days, we would smile at this… almost take it lightly.

But life has its own way of bringing understanding.

Recently, during our cruise to Hawaii, I was troubled by severe eczema triggered by an allergy. One night, in the middle of sleep, I found myself repeatedly uttering, “Waheguru, Waheguru…” aloud.

Harvinder woke up and asked, “What happened? Why are you saying Waheguru in the middle of the night?”

I did not have an answer at that moment.

But in the morning, I understood.

I was unwell… and somewhere deep within, my soul had responded the same way my father’s used to.

That day, I truly felt what he must have felt.

What once seemed like a habit… revealed itself as a connection, a natural turning toward the Divine in times of need.

Waheguru… becomes not just a word,
but an inner thermometer of the soul.

Me as Sheik Chilli in the eyes of my Mother

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Sheikh Chilli lived in dreams, building grand castles in the air, only to watch them disappear in a moment of excitement.

My mother would often compare me to Sheikh Chilli.
I must have been the same, talking big, dreaming endlessly, unaware of how fragile those dreams were. I do not even remember my words, but I do remember her laughter, light, affectionate, never dismissive.

And then, there were those quiet moments…

While she worked tirelessly, cooking, cleaning, caring for five children of all ages. I would sometimes catch her smiling to herself. Not at me, but for me. As if in her heart, she was already seeing a future I could not yet understand.

My mother Savitri Devi a very shy dancer is forced to move her feet on my Shagan ceremony in Panipat while a band plays on.

She never said much, but her silence was full of prayers.

From deep within, she was blessing me—asking for a life of health, dignity, and worldly success for her son.

But destiny had its own timing.

She did not stay long enough to see those dreams take shape…
to see me build, to see me grow, to see our inherited lands and homes flourish.

My father stood beside me in the world of action, guiding, supporting, shaping reality.

With my mother Savitri Devi and grand mother Karam Devi on my Shagan in Panipat

And my mother…
she remained my unseen strength, her blessings continuing, perhaps from heaven, quietly turning those once fragile “castles in the air” into something real.

Dastar Bandi and Power Outage

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“Dastar Bandi and the Night the Lights Went Out”

This photograph captures a day of deep pride and joy in our family.

We had arranged on 8th Jan 1989, the Dastar Bandi of our son Shivpreet at the local Sri Guru Singh Sabha Gurdwara in Jangpura Extension. After the turban was respectfully tied by the Bhai Sahib, Shiv is seen here bowing to touch the feet of his mother, Harvinder, a moment of family values, humility, and grace.

Even today, the picture feels so fresh, so alive.

The very next day, on Sunday, January 9, 1989, we hosted a lively “Hollywood-style” gathering at our home in Jangpura. Many of my friends from the power sector were present. The evening was in full swing when suddenly, a major power outage struck.

Phones began ringing. Those connected with Northern Regional Load Dispatch Centre (LDC) were urgently called back to duty. Many of my office friends had to leave, it was no longer a party, but a moment of national responsibility.

By coincidence, another eminent personality from the power sector, Mr. Harish Khanna, Chairman of the Haryana Electricity Board and my cousin, was also present with his family. He immediately cautioned the family to guard the ladies of the family who were wearing gold Jewelry on the occasion.

What was celebration one day… turned into crisis management the next.

The widespread outage, affecting millions, was later reported in newspapers, as reflected in the clipping shared above.

Life has its own way of weaving joy and duty together.

When my mother Biji picked Shivi from his School Bus stop

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AI sketch of my mother Savitri Devi and Shivpreet

In her final days, she had become very fragile. Her balance was unsteady, her speech not always clear. Yet, every day she would insist on going to the bus stop at the end of our lane to see my four/five-year-old Shiv.

She would get ready well in advance, anxious, eager, almost restless, just to drop him and later bring him back from his Bus engaged by his Tiny-Tots Pre-School, his first tele-tots days near Moolchand Hospital, Lajpat Nagar III.

One day, I saw something that stayed with me forever.

Instead of her guiding Shiv across the road, it was little Shiv holding her hand tightly, carefully helping her cross the lane. She walked slowly, almost dependent on him.

I rushed forward and asked, “Why do you go to pick him when you can hardly see or walk properly?”

She smiled and said,
“I am so happy to go for him… in many ways, your son is better than you, Preetmohan! You will see, he will grow into a great person and surpass everyone in the family.”

Her words were simple… but filled with a vision only a grandmother could carry

Folded Clothes and Unfolding Life

My full load of weekly clothes, my turbans and dress shirts and pants not included.

While folding my freshly washed clothes, my son Shivpreet was sitting beside me. I smiled and said, “Sunny, I am sure I will live for at least one more week, my clothes are ready for the week ahead.”

How easily we say such things… and yet, how difficult it is to truly understand life.

A breath goes in… who knows if it will come out again? Such is the fragile thread of our existence.

Guru Nanak Dev ji says below on P 660 of 

SGGS

Page 660 of SGGS with translation.

And still, in these small preparations, in folded clothes, in quiet moments with our children - we find a strange comfort, a gentle assurance that life will go on, at least for a little while longer.

I make it a point to wash my nightwear and daily-use clothes myself. Harvinder often blesses me, saying we can get help or that she will do it for me, but I prefer doing it on my own. It gives me a chance to use my own hands, eyes, and mind. Above all, it pulls me away from screen time, whether it is TV, the computer, or headphones.

This small routine keeps me active, engaged, and fresh.

On My 50th Anniversary

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When we were young both in Mind and Body

This picture above speaks volumes of love, youthfulness, and the quiet pride of a young couple beginning their journey together.

That morning remains vivid in my memory. I had just finished a wholesome breakfast, two chapatis,  a simple vegetarian sabzi, and a cup of hot milk. Nourished and ready, I was preparing to leave for my office routine. But before stepping out, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. I called my darling Dari to the living room, not just to thank her for the delicious meal and the care with which she had even packed my office lunch, but also to capture that moment in time. 

There was some thing special about that day. The newly styled Levi’s jeans and the light-textured shirt I wore were both thoughtful gifts from my in-laws, who were now settled in the USA. Interestingly, the design on the shirt seemed to mirror my Professional world, resembling the transmission lines and networks stretching across the countryside, much like the work I was engaged in while serving Power Systems Planning at the Central Electricity Authority, New Delhi.

Behind me, on the wall, was another sketch, of Guru Nanak Dev Ji, which I had drawn myself while entering this new portion of our house in 1970. It held deep spiritual meaning for me and symbolized the guiding force in our lives.

That picture, therefore, is not just about a young couple, it is about dreams, hard work, responsibility, and love. It captures a moment where personal life, professional identity, and spiritual grounding stood together, quietly shaping the journey ahead.

Changes in Life Time on my Immigration to USA

I felt like sharing something very close to my heart with you in response to a question by my esteemed friend.

In the initial days of my immigration in early 1990s, something within me quietly changed. By His grace, I felt the Almighty drawing me closer and showing me a path I had never known before. It was not planned, nor was I ever overly religious, honestly, I am not even today but somehow, I was guided.

In around 1994, when I was being introduced to some of the old-time settlers, I was often quite bluntly told, almost dismissively, that if I did not eat non-vegetarian food or drink hard liquor, then why on earth had I come here. At times, this did leave me a bit disappointed, because I had so much enthusiasm for life,  I enjoyed singing, painting, a bit of dancing, and engaging in lively conversations on the latest topics.

However, being a positive person by nature, I did not let that discourage me. Instead, I made a conscious effort to seek out like-minded people, and I must say, I was very successful in finding a circle where I truly belonged.

Somewhere during this phase, something within me also quietly changed. By His grace, I felt the Almighty drawing me closer and showing me a path I had never known before. It was not planned, nor was I ever overly religious, honestly, I am not even today—but somehow, I was guided.

During that time, I found myself deeply involved in a few meaningful creations. I made a full-size sketch of Guru Nanak Dev Ji, wrote Ganjnama, and even worked on digitizing Sri Guru Granth Sahib into a CD-ROM—something quite ahead of its time then. Looking back, I feel it was all His doing more than mine.

By nature, I have always been a vegetarian and a teetotaler, and over time people began calling me “Bhagat, son of Bhagat.” Interestingly, social circles shifted—fewer party invitations, but more calls for Kirtans. Life has its own ways, and I have learned to accept and enjoy it as it comes. Truly, life is good and welcome in all its forms.

Now, after all these years, the book is essentially complete. The write-up is done; I just need to sit with Shiv to finalize the formatting, and we still have to insert the family trees. We are also thinking of developing some video content, as people nowadays seem more inclined to 

I would genuinely value your thoughts and feedback on this. Your perspective has always meant a lot to me.

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During that phase, I found myself deeply involved in a few meaningful creations. 

1. I made a full-size sketch of Guru Nanak Dev Ji, 8’3”X3’ size hanging in our Baba ji room enhance the glamour of the same 

2. wrote Ganjnama,  

 

3- And even worked on digitizing Sri Guru Granth Sahib into a CD-ROM—something quite ahead of its time then. Looking back, I feel it was all His doing more than mine.

By nature, I have always been a vegetarian and a teetotaler, and over time people began calling me “Bhagat, son of Bhagat.” Interestingly, social circles shifted, fewer party invitations, but more calls for Kirtans. Life has its own ways, and I have learned to accept and enjoy it as it comes. Truly, life is good and welcome in all its forms.

Now, after all these years, the book Ganjnama is essentially complete. The write-up is done; I just need to sit with Shivpreet to finalize the formatting, and we still have to insert the family trees. We are also thinking of developing some video content, as people nowadays seem more inclined to watch than read. Alongside, I may take some professional help to give it a proper shape and invest my Dasvandh into this effect.

How wedding Alliances were done in our family. Bhagwant is a Case Study

My mother Savitri Devi 39 warding of the evil-eye by circulating money immediately after the Anand Karaj in 1965 on our house terrace in Kalandar Chowk, Panipat and whole scenario is watched by me and near relatives.

​In those days, marriages were not merely alliances between two individuals, they were sacred bonds between families, nurtured over generations. The elders took it upon themselves the responsibility of selecting suitable matches for their sons and daughters. It was considered a blessing to unite with a family whose values, character, and history were already known, having witnessed their joys and hardships alike.

Such was the depth of trust that sometimes alliances were decided even before a child was born. Promises made in friendship were honored as solemn commitments. One such instance touched our own family deeply. My grandmother, in her warmth and conviction, had once promised her dear friend that if a daughter were born into our family, she would be married into theirs.

My grandmother Karam Devi already committed her granddaughter Bhagwant (still in lap with Biji)for her future wedding alliance before She was born.

As time passed, and with the upheavals of partition and the limitations of communication in those days, when even a postcard was a precious link, such promises faded into the background. Families were scattered, and connections became difficult to trace.

Yet, destiny has its own way of fulfilling what is spoken with sincerity.

My grandmother’s friend’s son, Tirlok Singh, grew up to become a fine young man and joined the Indian Air Force. He was handsome, well-placed, and carried himself with dignity. Around the same time, my elder sister had completed her training as a teacher, graceful, educated, and grounded in strong values.

Newly-wed studio pic of Bhagwant and Tirlok Singh

Outwardly, some may have questioned the match. In those superficial comparisons, people noted differences, he being strikingly handsome, and my sister, though not so fair but bright, being more simple in appearance. There were whispers that such a union might face challenges.

But what truly mattered revealed itself in time.

My grandmother Karam Devi and her friend Chetni Bai whose son Trilok Singh was destined to marry my sister Bhagwant as decided by Karam Devi even before she was born.

The boy’s family was of exceptional character, principled, cultured, and deeply rooted in values. Their conduct reflected generations of integrity and grace. In that environment, my sister found not just acceptance, but respect, warmth, and a lifelong sense of belonging.

A rare pic of family in 1986 Gurgaon. Only Tirlok Singh Jija Ji is missing perhaps he is clicking the shot.

Today, as I reflect, I see how that promise, made so long ago, blossomed into a life of fulfillment. She now spends her time joyfully with her younger son, Sandeep are done to, in Toronto, while her elder son, Jagdeep, has made his home in Dallas, carrying forward the family’s legacy across continents.

Bhagwant with her two sons Jagdeep and Sandeep around my wedding time.

It reminds me that beyond appearances and momentary judgments, it is character, संस्कार (values), and the unseen threads of destiny that truly shape a life well lived.