A poem for those who once gave Guru Jee their head by taking Amrit, but took it back...

31^st May 1984

Satwant could feel her clothes sticking to her, the heat was unbearable, she had spent the night tossing and turning trying to get a goodnights sleep. She glanced at her watch, it was 4am, she thought, I need to get up, help milking the cows so Bibi (mother) doesn’t change her mind about letting me go to Amritsar. She quickly rose to her feet and looked into her parents bedroom and saw that Bibi was still sound asleep.

Art is the most beautiful manifestation of the divine, where infinite perceptions and view points are experienced, a reality often unseen by the human eye -  where illusions end and miracles start.