I listened to the morning discourse emanating from Manji Sahib Gurdwara, Amritsar. The giani-scholar shared the story of Bhai Nand Lal, who was going to meet Guru Gobind Singh Sahib. I am paraphrasing the story—a thought arose in Bhai Nand Lal: “What can I offer the Guru? I have nothing of value.” You offer the best of what you can give for the one you love.
I paused. This is the mindset of a lover—What can I offer my beloved? Whether the beloved is with a capital B or a lowercase b, it is the beloved for the lover. There is no thought of what the beloved will give in return, only the need to offer the best to one’s love.
His love for the Guru poured into words, flowing like a river seeking its source. With every pause on his journey, he inscribed his devotion, each verse a whisper of longing, a song of surrender. The weight of love pressed upon him, urging him to give more, to offer himself fully. By the time he reached Anandpur Sahib, his heart had woven 510 verses—his love captured in ink, his spirit laid bare in poetry. He humbly placed them at the Guru’s feet, his only offering. He had no wealth, no material gifts—only the richness of his devotion, the sacred rhythm of his words, the essence of his love distilled onto the page. He did not know if his words would be accepted, but he knew they had been born from love and love alone.
The Guru asked Bhai Nand Lal to read what he had written. The Guru listened, smiled, and asked, “What have you titled this collection?” Bhai Nand Lal replied, “I have named this collection Bandginama.”
The Guru responded, “Bhai Nand Lal, whosoever reads this collection will know how to live, and their lives will be fulfilled. So I am naming it Zindginama because in this collection is the greatness and praise of the Guru-Brahm.”
Why did this narrative hold me so deeply today? Perhaps because it is February 14, the day the world recognizes as Valentine’s Day—a day of love. A day when love is adorned with flowers, chocolates, and poetic expressions. A day when hearts seek to connect, when emotions are bared, and when the world collectively acknowledges the power of love. But does love need a designated day? Or is love the eternal force transcending time, space, and worldly symbols?
Love seeks a lover. Love is silent. Love is always there, waiting for a lover who can recognize it. Like the stillness before dawn, like the hush of the ocean depths, love remains—unchanging, unmoving—until one who is ready arrives. Love does not chase, does not demand, does not clamor for attention. It is the silent presence that lingers, the breath that waits to be drawn, the light that simply exists, needing no proclamation.
The lover does not seek anything from love, for the lover recognizes, knows, and acknowledges love with gratitude. If love had not entered the lover, the lover would be dry, colorless, without life. Love is the essence that transforms, bringing vibrancy to existence and turning a mere existence into a divine experience. Love is the elixir that breathes life into the ordinary, turning it into the extraordinary. It is love that has given so much to the lover—there is nothing more the lover can ask of love. Love is not a transaction; it is a state of being, a surrender of the self, an offering made without expectation.
Perhaps, if anything, the lover can only wish to be wholly dyed in love and become love itself. To dissolve into love so completely that there is no distinction between the lover and love. To become the fragrance of love, the echo of love, the very embodiment of love. For in that surrender, in that immersion, there is fulfillment. Love is not merely an emotion—it is a path, a calling, a transformation. It is the light that illuminates, the fire that consumes, the water that nourishes. It is everything.
Is this love? Or is love something beyond what can be captured in words, beyond what can be named, beyond what can be confined to a single day? Perhaps love is the ultimate mystery, the eternal truth, the boundless ocean into which all lovers wish to merge.
And so, just as Bhai Nand Lal placed his verses at the feet of the Guru, every lover also places their essence at the altar of love. To love is to surrender, to dissolve, to become. The beloved does not need to ask; the lover gives freely, knowing that love itself is the gift. This is the silent dance of love and the lover—eternal, boundless, waiting. When the lover beholds love, the search ends—not because love was found, but because it was always there, waiting to be seen.