My husband Ken and I were visiting a strange city a few days ago. I was driving and we were simply looking around, getting lightly lost and having a great time being tourists in our own land. Suddenly there was a sign and a driveway, and much to Ken's surprise I just turned in and headed for the parking lot. I glanced over at my husband of almost three years and saw the look of alarm on his face as the situation hit him. Ken hadn't planned on visiting his first Sikh Gurdwara this life on that day, nor had I planned it either. The Gurdwara had chosen us. All I knew was that my Guru was in that building and wanted to meet Ken.

Without saying a word to my husband, I parked and then headed towards the main door, figuring that Ken was following. We have no Gurdwara in the town where we live. I am the only Sikh Ken knows, so I knew that this was not going to be a long visit; just a little sip and dip of a first experience for Ken into a different culture and into my religious life.

The building was very attractive. We entered in the middle and on the right was the Langar Hall and on the left, beyond the shoes racks and sinks were the doors to what a sign called the "Prayer Hall". Someone was reading from the Guru and it was being piped all over the Gurdwara.

I was helping Ken with a head covering when he asked me his first question:

"What is the tune he is singing? Is it a particular tune or is he improvising?"

Ken is a musician, an amazing composer, and I shouldn't have been surprised that he would be taking in this new experience through his ears first. I listened to the voice chanting the words of the Siri Guru Granth Sahib and I realized that the man singing had a very beautiful voice and that the sound of Gurmukhi flowing everywhere was lovely. For a moment I wondered what the Guru was saying but I knew I wasn't going to get a translation there so I released the need, knowing that the Guru was speaking to me at many levels, some I could understand and some I couldn't, and that that was OK.

Meanwhile Ken's question completely stumped me. I had no idea whether the man chanting was using some particular rag (or whatever), or whether he was just chanting free-form. Shrugging, Id the door to the hall and escorted Ken in. I quickly and quietly instructed him to go sit over by where the man with the Prasad was sitting and I went and bowed before my Guru.

Soon joining Ken, we each received Prasad and I relaxed and let the beauty of the room and the sweetness of the chanting wash over me for a spell as I ate Prasad.

After a peaceful time there, I bowed again to my Guru, and led Ken away - back to the car, back to just driving around, happily exploring a strange city. I didn't say anything. I was happy to wait and see what next question Ken might pose for me. I just hoped I would be able to answer it when it came.

"What is this made of?" I glanced over and noticed that Ken was still very very slowly eating his Prasad.

"Clarified butter, wheat flour and sugar." I replied.

Ken looked at me, clearly perplexed, and then he studied the paste in his hand and sampled another tiny little bit.

"Why is it good?" he wondered.

"It is blessed food. It is food that you received as a gift from the Siri Guru Granth Sahib. Many prayers were chanted into that Prasad while it was being prepared and it is a blessing. Prasad is healing food."

"Do they serve Prasad at all Sikh Gurdwaras?" Ken asked.

"Yes."

"And you can just zip in and get some, anytime?"

"Yes, that is pretty much the case." I informed him.

"Wow. That's great!" he replied quietly, while eating the rest quickly, then licking his fingers and then wiping the grease from his hands with the napkin provided. "You can take me to a Gurdwara anytime you like as long as I get some of this Prasad again!"

I smiled and remained silent, bemused and content with my life - very grateful to the Guru.

Kamalla Rose Kaur is USA born, of Irish descent, and embraced Sikhism in 1972, at age 18. She tried everything for over twenty years, including frantic practice of Yoga, until she learned "why Sikhs are so adament about having the Sri Guru Granth Sahib as their only Guru."

Kamalla Rose is a professional writer, theater director, workshop and seminar leader,
publicist, events planner and singer. Her column appears every Saturday and is now slated to also appear Wednesdays.

The author welcomes comments and feedback: Love&Light