Panja Sahib: ‘Miracle’ at Hasanabdal
Most Pakistanis know Hasan Abdal as the town that houses the Cadet College, the first to be built in Pakistan, in the early 1950s. Or, they know it as the town they drive through while traveling to Peshawar or Abbottabad and beyond. Other than that, it is a nondescript, dusty little town 25 miles Northwest of Islamabad, situated along the Grand Trunk Road (GT Road), almost encroaching upon it.
Haphazardly built like most rural towns in Pakistan, with petrol pumps, tire shops, and shabby little restaurants adding to the ugly clutter along the road, Hasan Abdal hardly arouses much interest among Pakistanis unless one happens to be a Sikh. And there are not many Sikhs in Pakistan.
For Sikhs, Hasan Abdal has a special significance and a place in their heart. It houses the shrine of Panja Sahib, so named because the imprint of the right hand (panja), believed to be that of Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion, is preserved here on a rock. Panja Sahib is one of the three holiest shrines of the Sikh religion, the other two being Nankana Sahib in Sheikhupura, Pakistan, and the Golden Temple in Amritsar, India.
Every year in April, thousands of Sikh pilgrims from all over the world converge at Panja Sahib to celebrate the birth of Khalsa, meaning pure, a new identity given to the Sikh nation by Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth and the last of temporal gurus of the Sikh religion, in April 1699. While announcing the birth of Khalsa, or the Sikh Nation, at the annual Vesaakhi (spring) festival at Anandpur, in the Indian Panjab, Guru Gobind Singh also gave new guidelines to the Sikh nation that included, among other things, a dress and appearance code, known as the 5 k’s: kes, kangha, kach, kara, kirpan.
I had driven through Hasan Abdal countless times over the years and was also vaguely aware of the story of Panja Sahib, but I never stopped to explore the town or enquire about the legend of Panja Sahib — until last week.
When 2007 was officially declared “Visit Pakistan Year,” I thought the least I could do was visit places of interest in my neighborhood. So, I drove not through but to Hasan Abdal along with Mumtaz Ali Shah, my brother-in-law, to learn something firsthand about Panja Sahib.
The caretaker or the granthi let us in the gurdwara. He was a large man, probably in his mid-40s, soft-spoken and wearing an orange turban and black beard. He answered our questions with patience and humility and told us his version of the story of Panja Sahib.
Like all legends and folklore, the story of Panja Sahib is a mixture of belief, facts, and fiction—fiction to the non-believer, that is. The story has different versions, but a common thread runs through them. Besides the granthi, we also talked to several Hasan Abdal locals about the Panja Sahib story. They all gave similar, if not exactly the same, accounts, and they all seemed to believe it to be true.
Before we proceed further with the story, a couple of explanations: First, the word panja is derived from the Panjabi word panj, meaning five, and refers to the five fingers of the hand or the hand itself. Second, Sikhs use the honorific ‘Sahib’ for the names of sacred personalities, places, or books, just as Muslims use the word sharif, such as Mecca Sharif, Ka’ba Sharif, Quran Sharif, etc.
Here is the story of Panja Sahib in its essential details:
Between 1510 and 1520, just before the Mughal rule began in India, Guru Nanak is said to have traveled to the Arab lands, visiting Mecca and Baghdad, among other places. He was in his 40s then. Some say he even performed the hajj, but no conclusive evidence supports that claim. On returning from his sojourn in the Arab lands, Guru Nanak passed through Kabul and Peshawar and halted at a small hamlet, the present-day Hasan Abdal, at the foot of a steep hill.
Attracted by his simple lifestyle and engaging conversation, many people from the village, both Hindus and Muslims, started flocking to Guru Nanak. As the word about him spread in the surrounding villages, the number of his devotees increased.
It so happened that a Muslim saint, Baba Wali Kandahari, also lived at the hilltop above the hamlet. His last name suggests his origins in Kandahar, Afghanistan. In addition to having a vantage point from which he could see all that was happening in the village below, Baba Kandahari also had the benefit of having a freshwater spring at the summit, the water flowing down the hill to the village.
When Baba Kandahari saw people flocking to Guru Nanak, he felt a pang of jealousy, which soon turned into outright resentment against the new saint on the block. If he couldn’t stem the flow of Guru Nanak’s devotees, Baba Kandahari thought he could drive the Guru away from the area by stopping the water flow to the village below. And stop the water he did.
Guru Nanak took this development calmly, but the villagers were greatly upset over the cutting off of their water supply. They sent a delegation to Baba Kandhari, beseeching him to let the water flow, but the Baba was not moved. He sent the delegation back, taunting them to ask their guru to divine water for them. The villagers turned to Guru Nanak, who asked his lifelong disciple and companion, Bhai Mardana, a Muslim, to go to Baba Kandahari and plead with him about the villagers' case. But the Baba did not relent. Guru Nanak sent Bhai Mardana again, and yet again, to beg the Baba for water, but to no effect.
Not knowing what to do, the desperate villagers again approached Guru Nanak. As the story goes, Guru Nanak told them not to despair. Pointing to a rock embedded in the ground, he asked them to dislodge it. When they pushed the rock aside, freshwater gushed forth from the ground, enough for the needs of the little village and some more.
Baba Kandahari was dismayed at this development. But his dismay turned into red-hot anger when he discovered that his own spring had meanwhile dried, the water having been sucked by the spring below. Enough was enough, he told himself and decided to eliminate the Guru.
One day, when Guru Nanak was sitting, as usual, surrounded by his devotees, Baba Kandahari pushed a huge boulder down the hill toward the Guru. The boulder rolled down, gaining speed and kicking up dust. When the devotees sitting around the Guru heard the rumble and saw the boulder hurtling down in their direction, they fled in panic. But Guru Nanak continued sitting calmly where he was. When the boulder came close, and it seemed it would surely crush him, Guru Nanak raised his right hand as if ordering the rock to stop. The boulder pushed against Guru Nanak’s hand — and stopped! The Guru’s palm sank into the boulder as if into soft wax, leaving a deep imprint on it.
Upon seeing the miracle, not only was the villagers' faith reinforced in their saint, but it also convinced Baba Kandahari of Guru Nanak's spiritual reach. According to one version of the story, Baba Kandhari came down from the hilltop, touched Guru Nanak’s feet, and joined the Guru’s devotees. Another version says both saints became friends and lived happily thereafter, tending independently to their flocks.
Today, the rock with a visible hand imprint is embedded in a concrete structure of the building complex. Clear freshwater, gushing out from somewhere in the ground, cascades down the face of the rock, washing the hand imprint into a very large pool. Next to the pool, on an elevated platform, stands a beautiful gurdwara, built in the Mughal style by Maharaja Ranjeet Singh (1780-1839). The gurdwara houses the Granth Sahib – the holy book of Sikhs.
A sizeable two-storied hostel surrounds the courtyard, built for the yatrees or pilgrims. Numerous marble plaques embedded in the walls and the floor announce the names of the various donors who contributed to the construction of the building. Other signs in Gurmukhi, English, and Urdu give visitors the necessary information and directions. From the courtyard of Panja Sahib, one can easily see the hilltop where, according to the story, Baba Wali Kandahari had lived and died. The place is now a shrine dedicated to Baba Kandhari. Red, black, and green flags marking the grave of Kandahari flutter at the hilltop. A modern communication tower sprouts from the hilltop along with the colored flags.
Muslim devotees from the surrounding area regularly visit the hilltop. Even some Sikh pilgrims to Panja Sahib — those who can — trek up the hill, about a one-mile steep climb, to visit Baba Kandhari’s shrine.
I asked him his name when taking leave of the granthi at Panja Sahib. “Saddam Singh,” he answered softly. I was not sure if I heard him correctly. I asked him again, and he repeated, sheepishly this time, “Saddam Singh.” I don’t know if the granthi’s parents, while naming him, had Saddam Hussein, the defiant dictator of Iraq, in mind, but at this point, when Saddam Hussein is in the news all over the world, not for good reasons, the granthi’s name did arouse enough interest for me to ask his name twice.
Note: The story was originally published on All Things Pakistan on 27 January 2007.
