New Delhi: Guru Nanak’s last resting place at Kartarpur Sahib, on the banks of the Ravi in Pakistan, is once again facing the fury of floods, echoing a centuries-old cycle of devastation which, on multiple earlier occasions, had forced the relocation of his original 16th-century samadhi to higher and drier ground.

Swollen by relentless monsoon rains, the Ravi, which separates India’s Gurdaspur from Pakistan’s Narowal district, has, since earlier this week, almost completely submerged the resplendent shrine, one of Sikhism’s holiest, prompting countrywide concern amongst Nanak’s followers.

India’s access to Kartarpur Sahib, however, remains suspended since Operation Sindoor in May, and for countless Nanak devotees, assorted images of the flood-submerged Gurdwara earlier this week had only magnified their grief; for them the shrine now not only embodied faith besieged by the unyielding crossfire of bilateral hostilities between two nuclear-armed neighbours but also by nature’s fury.

Kartarpur’s current inundation is a replay of earlier floods, when vast stretches of Shakargarh tehsil, in which it is located were flooded and devastated. Yet, each time, Nanak’s Hindu and Muslim followers preserved their Guru’s resting place, painstakingly relocating his samadhi; for them, each such rescue act was worship itself – resilience fused with reverence and powered by their collective will and quiet reverence for their peasant-sage guru.

Following an extended stay in Dera Baba Nanak, some 4.5 km away – known then as Pakhoke Randhawa – Nanak settled in Kartarpur after his fourth and final Udasi or spiritual peregrinations, mostly on foot, which took him as far afield as Baghdad, Mecca, Lanka, Nepal and Kashmir, amongst numerous other places.

It was on the 100-odd acres at Kartarpur, bequeathed to him by a local landlord-devotee, that Nanak lived, farmed and preached and composed several hymns in the Granth Sahib, including the Japji Sahib – one of Sikhism’s foundational texts, distilling the essence of his eclectic spiritual vision and the fundamental philosophy of the newly emerging faith.

And, till he passed away at Kartarpur in 1539, aged 70 years, Nanak also espoused from here the three enduring fundamental pillars of Sikhism: kirat karo, nam japo, wand chako, translating to work honestly, meditate in God’s name and share one’s bounties with others. Centuries later, the latter dictum has, in recent decades, proliferated exponentially to globally incorporate the concept of langar for tens of millions of refugees and disadvantaged populations in troubled and warlike situations.

The nearly submerged Kartarpur Gurdwara is believed to have been constructed adjoining the spot where Nanak reportedly breathed his last. According to the legend, his grieving followers disagreed on how to perform his last rites; Hindus wanted to cremate his mortal remains and Muslims to bury them and many fascinating legends and accounts abound over how this dilemma was resolved.

One version has it that before he passed away, Nanak instructed his disciples to return the next day for his body. Upon doing so, they found a bed of fresh flowers, instead of his physical form under a shroud, which were then equally divided between his grieving devotees from both religions. Most accounts have Nanak’s Hindu followers cremating the flowers and building a samadhi or shrine at the site in his memory, whilst his Muslim devotees are said to have buried the flowers in a grave nearby.

Both cenotaphs were worshipped equally by the two communities for centuries, becoming places of pilgrimage that palpably emphasised the unity and inclusiveness Nanak preached by transcending sectarian boundaries and ritualistic differences, particularly the invidious caste system that perpetuated inequality.

But in the decades that followed, Guru Nanak’s samadhi and grave are believed to have been washed away by floods, along with the fragile structures that once marked his two original final resting places. The present-day Gurdwara was later constructed more or less in the same area where his memorials were said to have stood, giving continuity to the sanctity of the site despite nature’s erasures. Today, however, the only traceable remnant from Nanak’s era is a 20-foot-high red-brick wall, possibly dating back to the 16th century, but even this lone survivor now lies submerged beneath the Ravi’s overflowing banks.

Online research, drawing on Sikh chronicles and Persian accounts, reveal that through the 17th and 18th centuries, the Ravi’s shifting course repeatedly threatened Kartarpur Sahib, forcing the shrine’s gradual relocation. Yet, Hindu and Muslim devotees together safeguarded Guru Nanak’s resting places, treating each reconstruction and transfer as an act of faith and perpetuation of his all-encompassing ‘Ik Onkar’ unifying message that there is only one God or One Creator for all mankind.

In the 19th century, Maharaja Ranjit Singh stepped in, providing resources to rebuild the Gurdwara after another round of floods and ensuring its upkeep. Later, Sikh misls or clans protected the shrine and their commitment ensured that Kartarpur Saheb endured as Nanak’s shrine – an unbroken thread of resilience and faith despite repeated environmental threats.

Imperial Gazetteers of the late 19th century recorded how vast stretches of Shakargarh tehsil were devastated by the Ravi’s violent floods, with Kartarpur village itself washed away and resettled multiple times. Each time, Guru Nanak’s shrine was imperilled, but the community responded by painstakingly relocating his samadhi on every occasion, treating preservation as an act of devotion.

And in 1925, amid the reformist zeal of the Singh Sabha Movement and under the stewardship of the Shromani Gurudwara Prabhandak Committee (SGPC), Sikhs undertook a major reconstruction of Kartarpur Sahib. Local patrons supported this effort, which gave the shrine its distinctive white dome and a singular form that integrated both the Hindu samadhi and the Muslim maqbara – embodying Guru Nanak’s ecumenical universality.

Partition in 1947 placed Kartarpur in Pakistan, reducing Indian Sikhs to glimpsing it through binoculars from Dera Baba Nanak. Later, floods in the 1970s and 1980s once more threatened the Gurdwara, before its eventual reopening to Indian pilgrims via the now proscribed Kartarpur Corridor, in 2019. Yet the Ravi’s cycle of fury continued – floods in July 2023 submerged parts of the complex, and today, much of the shrine once more lies under water.

Managed by Pakistan’s Evacuee Trust Property Board, with financial assistance from India for its maintenance and running expenses, the majestically serene and spectacular gold-domed white marbled Gurdwara gracefully blends traditional Sikh and Mughal architectural styles. The grand complex itself is spread across some 42 acres and features ornate arches, vast courtyards and a central Darbar Sahib prayer hall, where the Granth Sahib is presently safely housed, beyond the reach of flood waters.

Alongside, the complex's overall area, which includes a tastefully landscaped ‘sacred forest’ that was added in 2017 alongside facilities for visiting Indian pilgrims, is an estimated 100 acres – nearly 3.5 times the spread of Amritsar’s Golden Temple – that encompasses around 28 acres.

And, as waters swirl dangerously and silently around the Gurdwara’s corridors, lower inner sanctums and langar hall that seats over 400 people at a time, the Ravi – indifferent to barbed wire, border guards or passports – reminds us all that Kartarpur belongs first to the river, before it does to either country.

Beyond that, history offers consolation: despite repeated floods, Kartarpur will endure as a testament to Nanak’s vision that faith, decency, and human unity will outlast turbulent rivers and narrow political divides.

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