True Tales

Bhai Sahib Dyal Singh
December 31, 1955-September 22, 1975

I’m going to tell you a little bit about Bhai Sahib Dyal Singh. I hope that I can give to all of you – those who knew him personally and those who never met him – the feeling and understanding of just how very special he was to us and to the Dharma and how deeply he touched our lives.

There are so many stories about him. There were a few of us who were blessed to live with him and share our daily lives at Adi Shakti Ashram in Los Angeles.

The first time I saw Bhai Sahib Dyal Singh was some time in the spring of 1975, the night that I moved into Adi Shakti Ashram in West Hollywood. I had been a student of the Siri Singh Sahib’s for almost two years.

I was walking around the grounds of the ashram, so excited and nervous to be living there. It was evening and getting dark. Everyone was preparing for sleep. There was a small, white building that was separate from the other buildings. It looked like a converted garage, which it was. I knocked, but there was no answer. I opened the door. I can still remember the feeling of love and light that flooded that room, which turned out to be a small, beautiful gurdwara.

Bhai Sahib was sitting behind the Guru, doing sukhasan (closing and putting the Guru “to bed” for the night). He motioned for me to come in. I sat down and watched. I remember the light lavender color of the cover of the Siri Guru Granth Sahib. Everything in that room was so calming and pretty. When Bhai Sahib was done, he sat with me and explained sukhasan and prakash (the opening and presentation of the Siri Guru Granth Sahib). I had just started attending Sunday gurdwara, but we were still using the 8-volume set of the Guru (with English translation). This was the first time I had ever seen the full one-volume all-Gurmukhi Bir. I remember at the time thinking that he didn’t even know who I was, what my name was or anything about me – and yet he was so open and trusting to show me how to take care of the Guru. It was obvious to me at this first encounter that this was a man who truly loved being a Sikh.

We got to know each other as we all lived in the ashram, went to sadhana, did seva, and went about our daily lives. Many times he used to tell me, “You know, we are so lucky, we are just plain lucky – so very lucky to have a Guru to relate to. Any time we have a question or a problem, we have our Guru.” I think he liked the word “lucky.” I must have needed to hear this as he said it many times to me.

Sometimes I would look at him when he was playing around with his friends and laughing with everyone and I thought, “Who is this Jewish kid from the San Fernando Valley?” I was very young at the time, 20 I think, and he was 19. But I would look at him acting all silly with everyone and he seemed so very young and innocent to me. I would roll my eyes and think to myself “He’s just so immature!” But, then he would teach us Gurmukhi or tell stories about his trip to the Golden Temple and his face would light up. He was a wise, old man, like an old Rabbi. I felt much younger than him and knew I had a lot to learn.

As I learned Gurmukhi and kirtan and got more comfortable with all of our daily practices, Bhai Sahib told me that his favorite shabd was Arti. He thought I could easily learn it. Well, he was partly right. I figured out the music part easily enough, but the words… oh my God! They looked like they were all run together and it was so many pages long! I told him to forget it, that I needed to learn Gurmukhi better. Of course, he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

Instead, he coached me in the evenings after work and slowly but surely, I got better and better at it. I remember one time I hid the transliteration behind the Gurmukhi words to the Arti so I could cheat. He took it away and I never saw that thing again.

I did learn the Arti and played it for the Bhog after our Akand Path – and have continued to play it nearly every week since 1975. I am so grateful to Bhai Sahib for seeing in me what I could not see in myself.

The night before he left for India – his last trip to India – a few of us were helping him get organized. He was giving us things to give back to people – weird, little things – and I asked him, “Bhai Sahib, what are you doing? You’re not going away for that long!” And he said, “I just have to wrap things up.” It occurred to me later that maybe he knew somewhere in his consciousness that he was not coming back. It was getting later and later at night and he was still organizing and packing. I finally was too tired and went to my room. It was almost midnight.

A few minutes later, he came knocking at my door. You know, when there is a profound experience in your life, the memory of it is so clear, like it just happened and you can remember every detail. He was standing in the doorway and he said that he had signed up to read in the Akand Path from midnight until 1:00 AM and he still was not packed. He asked if I could read for him. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but who could say “no” to Bhai Sahib? He looked so radiant, standing in my doorway. Thank God I said “yes.” That was the last time I saw him and those were his last words to me. He died the next day or the day after, on September 22, 1975.

It was such a shock – and we all shed a lot of tears. I had never seen the Siri Singh Sahib or Bibiji cry before. We didn’t know how we would go on without him – but we did go on and we will go on.

I don’t think about Bhai Sahib much since those early days, but every time I sit down to play the Arti, as soon as I touch the first note on the harmonium, he just pops into my head and I feel his presence. His spirit is so strong – it lives in every fiber of our dharma. He helped build our foundation.

We honor his memory every day with our sadhanas and Gurdwaras and kirtans. I hope that we can keep sharing all of these stories and remember him and be inspired by his innocence and pure love for the Guru – he was our Bhai Sahib and the kid brother I never had.