On December 3, 2025, then twenty-two-year-old Vickrum Singh Digwa stabbed eighteen-year-old Henry Nowak four times with a 21cm long knife—first in the chest, then in the legs, groin, and face. Nowak was alone and unarmed. Digwa, an Amritdhari (initiated) Sikh described by Judge William Mousley K.C. as a member of the order of the Nihangs, carried a Kirpan (traditional sword) under his clothes in addition to the peshqabz (Indo-Persian knife) he used to stab Nowak.

The details of the case are harrowing. Digwa denied the murder, claiming he acted in self-defense after a dispute escalated on Belmont Road, Southampton. He told jurors that Nowak appeared intoxicated, had used a racial slur, and later became aggressive. But Nowak's blood alcohol level at the time of his death was below even the legal limit for driving. There was no evidence of an alleged use of a racial slur or aggression. In fact, it was Digwa who took Nowak’s phone and initiated the fatal altercation before drawing his knife. In the end, the Southampton Crown Court found him guilty of murder and carrying a knife in public. Digwa has been jailed for life with a minimum sentence of 21 years.

Digwa’s brother, Gurpreet Singh, apparently believing his brother’s account, made the initial 999 emergency call, unknowingly setting in motion what the Judge later described as a “wicked lie” that Digwa was a victim of a racist attack. Their mother, 53-year-old Kiran Kaur, was found guilty of assisting an offender after prosecutors said she removed the weapon from the scene. Digwa’s brother continued to cover for him when police arrived, claiming that no weapon was involved. Digwa filmed Nowak “desperately trying to get away” from him, showing “a callous disregard for his wellbeing, knowing [he] had stabbed [Nowak] to the chest.” He continued “to make films of [Nowak] suffering, ignoring much of his desperation at having been stabbed.” He kept telling Nowak that he had, in fact, not been stabbed.  

In the immediate aftermath of the attack, this false information led the attending police officers to believe there were reasonable grounds to suspect Nowak had indeed committed an offense. He was initially arrested under the pretense of a hate crime, even as he slowly bled out. In the words of the judge, “the police were given a convincing but wholly false narrative of the incident. It was dark, and Henry was wearing a dark top.” Addressing Digwa, he said, “You were still present at the scene when Henry was saying he was dying, and still you did not tell the truth about how seriously you knew you had hurt him and the need for urgency.”

Digwa’s actions have put the entire Sikh community in the UK and around the world in danger. The judge said in the sentencing, “You have brought shame upon your family, your community, and your religion. Your actions have stirred up racial tension in Southampton and across the country, which has made many Sikhs worried about their own safety even though they have done absolutely nothing wrong…you abused the privilege extended to Sikhs to have a knife in a public place for religious reasons, dishonoured your religion, and have now put others at risk of repercussions.”

The Response

Public reaction to Nowak’s murder and Digwa’s conviction has been varied. Most news outlets are treating this as a murder case. Many right-wing groups and individuals are using it as fodder for anti-immigration rhetoric, exploiting unfounded and misplaced fear that Western civilization is being ‘replaced’ by the customs of the ‘other,’ implying that multiculturalism has forced the UK into barbarism. Some have made calls to ban the Kirpan outright, arguing that there ought to be one law for all UK citizens, without exception. 

While painting the Sikh community with a broad brush as violent because of Digwa's actions is obviously unjust, the Digwa case has gained global attention. In the week since the case and its verdict were announced, Sikhs have faced violent attacks in public. Notable figures from the global right have weighed in, including British figures such as Nigel Farage and Tommy Robinson, as well as billionaire Elon Musk and US Vice President J.D. Vance. 

The Sikh response, too, has varied. 

Some have refused to condemn Digwa’s actions. They argue that doing so would legitimize the belief that the actions of one individual indeed reflect on the entire minority community to which they belong. These Sikhs argue that it is the societal tendency to classify entire minority groups based on individual actions that ought to be scrutinized. 

Others have pivoted to respectability politics. In the UK, Sikhs have emphasized the historical sacrifices of earlier generations and their role in the very fabric of the country. They highlight Sikh enlistment in the British Army, contributions through various Seva-centered organizations, their role in building infrastructure, and their work in factories after World War I and II. While the shift toward this kind of response is understandable, it may not be sufficient. White nationalists are unlikely to be swayed by model minority narratives, and there will come a point when the entire Sikh community ought to decide that it is not their duty to prove their humanity—to be seen as equal citizens, deserving of dignity and grace in the countries they are living in. There will come a point when they understand that one need not earn the right to dignity and grace. 

Others have disavowed Digwa, saying he is not a "true Sikh." This is not helpful either—it implies that, based on his actions, we can distance ourselves from him, or him from the Panth (Sikh collective). The reality is that he is a Sikh. He received Amrit (Immortal Nectar). The community does not possess the authority to decide who is or is not a Sikh. But we can reflect on whether this particular case reveals broader issues within our Panth. In fact, we ought to.

There is significant focus on protecting the right to wear a Kirpan. This is constructive work from a legal standpoint—work that cannot be meaningfully articulated or contributed to here. Instead, this article dwells on self-reflection and Panthic reflection. The article argues that this case points the Panth toward an urgent and much larger set of questions that have gone unaddressed for too long:

• What is the Kirpan? 
• What principles underlie the commitment to wear a Kirpan?
• What are the duties of those who carry the Kirpan?
• How have we fallen short in understanding the Panj Kakars (5Ks)?
• How have we fallen short in passing this understanding on to the next generation? 
• What do we owe one another as we navigate ongoing tension between the individual and the collective, the personal and the Panthic? 

What is the Kirpan?

‘Kirpan’ comes from the roots: ‘kirpa,’ meaning ‘grace,’ and ‘an,’ meaning ‘honor, respect, or oath.’ The Panth has not settled on a standard shape or style for a Kirpan, though traditional versions exist. ‍

The Spirit of the Kirpan in Bani

Although the word ‘Kirpan’ is not explicitly invoked or referenced in Bani, its antecedents appear in references to the kharag or the sword. Throughout the Guru Granth Sahib, the sword is invoked as a vital instrument for the development of human consciousness and the cultivation of steadiness and remembrance of IkOankar (the One) over and against succumbing to vices and worldly poisons that cause forgetfulness:

ਲੋਭ ਲਹਰਿ ਸਭੁ ਸੁਆਨੁ ਹਲਕੁ ਹੈ ਹਲਕਿਓ ਸਭਹਿ ਬਿਗਾਰੇ ॥
ਮੇਰੇ ਠਾਕੁਰ ਕੈ ਦੀਬਾਨਿ ਖਬਰਿ ਹੋੁਈ ਗੁਰਿ ਗਿਆਨੁ ਖੜਗੁ ਲੈ ਮਾਰੇ ॥੭॥

The waves of greed are all like madness of dog;
the madness ruins everything.
When the news reached the Court of my Owner,
the Guru killed the madness of greed with the sword of wisdom.7.

     Guru Granth Sahib 983 

In this excerpt from a composition by Guru Ramdas Sahib, the waves of greed that beings experience as part of the worldly play are likened to dogs' madness. This greed causes madness, and this madness spoils all. Similarly, the madness of a greedy person ruins everything. But the seeker need not face these waves of greed alone, without tools to navigate them. When the seeker feels the Presence of the One (here described as the Court of the Owner), the Wisdom, the Guru, and the guidance of that Wisdom, is likened to a sword with which to kill these ‘mad dogs.’ Thus, gian kharag, or the Sword of Wisdom, is presented as an important tool in cultivating one’s consciousness, even in the wake of the tumultuous vices that being human in the world entails. The Sword of Wisdom is once again mentioned in the following composition by Guru Nanak Sahib:

ਕਾਮੁ ਕ੍ਰੋਧੁ ਅਹੰਕਾਰੁ ਨਿਵਾਰੇ ॥
ਤਸਕਰ ਪੰਚ ਸਬਦਿ ਸੰਘਾਰੇ ॥
ਗਿਆਨ ਖੜਗੁ ਲੈ ਮਨ ਸਿਉ ਲੂਝੈ ਮਨਸਾ ਮਨਹਿ ਸਮਾਈ ਹੇ ॥੩॥

Distances lust, anger, and pride.
Kills the five thieves-vices through Sabad.
Takes the sword of wisdom, fights with the mind,
and desires dissolve in the mind. 

     Guru Granth Sahib 1022

Through the Sabad, the hymn-like word of Wisdom, and the Sword of Wisdom, the seeker dispels lust, anger, and ego, along with the remaining five thieves or vices: attachment and greed. Importantly, the seeker wielding the sword in the Guru Granth Sahib is depicted as a feminine being, as all seekers are feminine beings in Bani. The above excerpt is revealed in the Rag (musical mode) of Maru, which is used to narrate heroic battles, evoking a mood of valiance, determination, and strength. In this composition, the mind and the vices that afflict it are being battled, and the feminine-being heroically fights against these inner propensities through the Sword of Wisdom.

The path of the sword is a prevalent metaphor in Hindu and Muslim traditions, denoting a difficult path that requires great discipline, finesse, and effort. A common image in Islamic tradition depicts a path in the afterlife that is finer than a single strand of hair and sharper than the edge of a sword. Both the sword and the hair that Sikhs maintain as Panj Kakars share the qualities of sharpness and refinement, the elements of dedication and discipline denoted by these qualities, and the emphasis on a kind of honing of human faculties required to overcome the vices that all humans wrestle with in their day-to-day lives: 

ਕਰਤ ਫਿਰੇ ਬਨ ਭੇਖ ਮੋਹਨ ਰਹਤ ਨਿਰਾਰ ॥੧॥ ਰਹਾਉ ॥
ਕਥਨ ਸੁਨਾਵਨ ਗੀਤ ਨੀਕੇ ਗਾਵਨ ਮਨ ਮਹਿ ਧਰਤੇ ਗਾਰ ॥੧॥
ਅਤਿ ਸੁੰਦਰ ਬਹੁ ਚਤੁਰ ਸਿਆਨੇ ਬਿਦਿਆ ਰਸਨਾ ਚਾਰ ॥੨॥
ਮਾਨ ਮੋਹ ਮੇਰ ਤੇਰ ਬਿਬਰਜਿਤ ਏਹੁ ਮਾਰਗੁ ਖੰਡੇ ਧਾਰ ॥੩॥
ਕਹੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਤਿਨਿ ਭਵਜਲੁ ਤਰੀਅਲੇ ਪ੍ਰਭ ਕਿਰਪਾ ਸੰਤ ਸੰਗਾਰ ॥੪॥੧॥੩੧॥

Those who wander in forests donning religious garbs,
1-Enchanter remains separate from them. Pause-Reflect.
They deliver discourses, sing beautiful songs,
but have filth in their minds;
They are most beautiful, very clever, and wise,
  their speech is beautiful due to education.
To renounce pride, attachment, mine, yours,
this is blade of the way of the double-edged sword.
Nanak: They swim across the dreadful world-ocean,
who, through the Divine grace, are in the company of truth-exemplars.

     Guru Granth Sahib 534

Guru Arjan Sahib describes those who live in pretense, wandering through forests wearing religious garb yet experiencing no connection with IkOankar, the Enchanter. They wander in separation, preaching, discussing, and singing, but their minds are filled with filth—ego and duality. They are intellectuals, educated, articulate beautifully and with cleverness, but they have not renounced their pride. The Guru says that renouncing pride and attachment, notions of ‘yours’ versus ‘mine,’ is to follow the way or walk the path of the double-edged sword. This reference to the double-edged sword, the khanda, emphasizes the difficulty of this path, which requires sharpening one’s discipline, humility, and dedication to transcending the worldly attachments that shape our sense of self: pride, accolades, intellect, ego, and attachment. It also requires us to feel the grace of the Divine in the company of those truth-exemplars who already walk this path of the double-edged sword. The Guru’s gift of the Kirpan, the sword to protect honor, is borne from the Sword of Wisdom of Guru Nanak Sahib. The Kirpan is to accompany the forces of “good” to defend the weak and destroy tyrants.

The Kirpan in History

One cannot understand the significance of the Panj Kakars, including the Kirpan, without understanding the theological, historical, and political significance of Vaisakhi 1699 in the context of the Sikh Revolution and the Miri-Piri doctrine. Without this understanding, the Panj Kakars become ‘symbols,’ robbed of their deeper meaning and the multilayered connection with Sikh principles, Sikh institutions, Sikh visions for the future, and Sikh political dispositions. This is what is at stake. 

Bhai Jaita (c.1657-1704), a contemporary of Guru Teghbahadar Sahib and Guru Gobind Singh Sahib, authored an epic titled Sri Gur Katha about Guru Gobind Singh’s life. This was one of the sources that explicitly references the Panj Kakars, describes the amrit bidhi (initiation process) or Khande-ki-Pahul, and the Rahit (code of conduct) as enunciated by Guru Gobind Singh Sahib. Bhai Jaita was entrusted by Guru Teghbahadar Sahib to carry his sabads to Guru Gobind Singh Sahib in Anandpur Sahib from his incarceration in Delhi, as recorded by Kavi Kankan, one of Guru Gobind Singh Sahib’s court poets at Anandpur Sahib. He was the trusted emissary of the Gurus, their messenger. Bhai Jaita was a trusted envoy and messenger of the Gurus, carrying Guru Teghbahadar Sahib’s severed head to Anandpur Sahib, where Guru Gobind Singh Sahib greeted him with the famous blessing: Ranghrete Guru ke bete (the ‘untouchable’ Rangretas are the Guru’s children). During the Khalsa’s founding, he was renamed Bhai Jivan Singh and later died in the Battle of Chamkaur (1704). It is in Bhai Jivan Singh’s Sri Gur Katha that mentions the Panj Kakars: 

The five are greatest at the Divine Door,
And the five are honored at the Guru Darbar.
Kirpan, Kara, Kuchh, Kes, Kangha—
Are determined as the five Kakars.
The Guru gifted the five Kakars,
The group of five kills the five vices.
There is no mystery hidden in this:
The five symbols of the Divine are beloved of the Divine.

Bhai Jivan Singh clearly references the Panj Kakars as institutionalized elements of Sikh identity, given by Guru Gobind Singh to the Sikhs. Through these five gifts, the Guru’s devotees are able to shed the five vices or poisons: lust, anger, greed, attachment, and ego. In this excerpt, we come to understand the Panj Kakars not as mere physical symbols but as representations of the internal work needed to cultivate virtues rather than into feeding vices. External garbs, symbols, and identifiers are of no use without the internal efforts of devotion, humility, service, and connection to the One. The responsibility of the Khalsa, who has made a deep and devoted commitment to the Guru, is great. To carry the Kirpan is to commit to the constant inner work of shedding our base tendencies—those that rob us of compassion, tenderness, love, and grace. Is this weight understood when Khande-ki-Pahul is administered and received? Is it especially understood by the young Sikhs making that commitment? 

The Panth is looking to history for clarity and guidance amid current discussions about whether the Kirpan remains relevant. However, such discussions are facilitated by either ignorance of Sikhi or by intent to make Sikhs powerless—to defang the Panth of our political and spiritual sovereignty, to separate from day-to-day living in line with the Miri-Piri doctrine, and to encourage passivity and ignorance rather than awareness and action. How can the Panth come to understand the deep principles upon which the Kirpan rests? Has the Panth understood how the Kirpan is to be used gracefully to protect someone's honor as a last resort?

A Crisis of Masculinity
Overemphasis on Bana over Bani 

One can understand a turn to cultural pride as a tandem to the rising crisis of masculinity shaping the experience of many young men globally, Sikh and otherwise, today. It is disingenuous to have this conversation without addressing the unprecedented growth in initiations into the Nihang order, especially among young men in the diaspora. It ought to be acknowledged that Buddha Dal UK held an International Nihang Singh Conference, where the Panj Piare (Five Lovers) issued a statement in response to the current climate. Still, this case and the issues raised cannot be discussed without acknowledging the realities of living in a time of incredible loneliness and a prevailing sense of a lack of belonging across all social and gender categories. Still, there is a crisis of masculinity that seems to exacerbate and exploit this feeling of loneliness in young men. This crisis of masculinity describes structural and identity changes in what it means to ‘be a man,’ while the loneliness epidemic captures the emotional and social effects of those changes. 

The term “crisis of masculinity” was popularized by Máirtín Mac an Ghaill (1994) in his ethnographic study, The Making of Men, which examined the lives of working-class boys in British schools during the decline of industrial employment. He found that many boys struggled to construct positive masculine identities as traditional ‘men’s jobs’ and breadwinner roles were disappearing. How did they respond to this crisis? Some cultivated “macho lad” subcultures, rejecting education and resisting authority as a means to maintain a sense of masculinity.

Mac an Ghaill argued that these responses were not acts of simple rebellion. They reflected a deeper identity crisis caused by rapid change across multiple spheres. Transformations in the economy, culture, and gender norms have continued to reshape everyone’s lives, but for men, these changes can create an overwhelming sense of destabilization in how they see and understand themselves and their place in society. 

This leads us to the present, the era of the ‘manosphere,’ where the new generation, in some cases, exhibits even more severe misogyny, sexism, and various ‘phobias’ than their Millennial and even Baby Boomer counterparts. In this world, insular groups that sell a sense of belonging and empowerment at the expense of others are increasingly popular among men and boys of all ages and backgrounds. 

How does this factor into the larger conversation? In conversations with other Sikhs about this case, it is framed, in part, as a manifestation of the growing emphasis on ‘Bana (form) over Bani (Wisdom).’

There is certainly some truth to this. Though there has been a noticeable decline in the last few decades, there are still Sikh youth camps or weekend retreats whose singular purpose is to initiate as many young Sikhs as possible. It is worth wondering whether this encourages a shallower engagement with what it means to make that commitment. In these spaces, children may be convinced to be initiated, even if they do not necessarily understand what that commitment entails, simply because their friends are doing it or because they want to feel a sense of belonging and empowerment. But what is empowerment without those foundational principles rooted in Bani? Without the principles Bhai Jivan Singh writes about? 

In oversimplifying the Amrit ceremony, when the Khalsa is understood only as warriors in an external sense, when the meaning of the Panj Kakars is diluted, when no guidance is shared with the youth to cultivate devotion and a relationship with Sabad (and when the Panth does not make this effort), an inevitable situation is created in which these gifts from the beloved Guru are not understood.

Nihang and Nihang-adjacent groups are rapidly growing among young men who crave a sense of belonging and social power. In a sense, it is also seen as a kind of counterculture—a way to rebel, to swim against the currents moving toward a more progressive and inclusive Panth. Young men may get involved, in part, because these groups offer an opportunity to assert and perform a particular masculinity in overt and often violent ways, while justifying it with a sense of righteousness—that they have taken on the Bana or the form of the Guru, that they are protectors of a ‘more traditional’ Sikhi—a ‘return to roots’ movement of sorts. This kind of masculinity, when tied to righteousness, is much more dangerous. It is the same masculinity that led so many Sikhs to defend Digwa, stating that Nowak ‘got what he deserved,’ even after reading the horrific details of the case. But what would a Bani-oriented, Sikh-like response to the Digwa case and verdict be? 

Professor Puran Singh writes about the Kirpan in relation to Guru Gobind Singh Sahib’s invocation of ‘Kal Kirpan,’ the Time Sword or the Death Sword, for the protection of the Khalsa ideal as embodied by the Khalsa disciples. Puran Singh says, “By putting a sword in the hand of every slave in the Punjab, he makes him a free man by one draught of His sword-stirred, Word-born water of Simrin, Nam. Such is Guru Gobind Singh.” In his explorations of the Kirpan as sword, abstract and literal, Puran Singh emphasizes the internal relationship the Khalsa have with the Divine, even as they fight: 

The Khalsa, in its group-manifestation, is like the splendour of a million naked swords. Its sight is truly awe-inspiring. No one dare provoke the Khalsa’s wrath. But in the heart of the Khalsa is the Fountain of Hari-Nam. Cut a Sikh and if his little heart the deep dove-coos of the Name of the Beloved are not heard, he is only fuel. The Khalsa is sweet and refreshing like the crystal waters of the Ganga. His presence is immortalizing. He is a blessing in this desire-scorched desert of sense delusions! 

Puran Singh writes of the Kirpan not just as a gift from the Guru, but as not of the individual at all. The Kirpan is of the Guru: 

“Every Sikh is to wear His Sword. Not his own. Kirpan is a gift from the Guru. It is not an instrument of offence or defence; it is mind made intense by the love of the Guru. The Sikh is to have a sword-like mind. It is the visible sign of an intensely sensitive soul.

The Kirpan is also about active engagement with the world as a political being, rather than as an apolitical ‘nonviolent’ ascetic steeped in an individualistic understanding of religiosity and piety. But it is also about becoming so tender-hearted, so immersed in Nam (Identification with IkOankar), that we are constituted of this sweetness, this remembrance, this love. Such that we become the love itself. Is enough being done to conjure and aspire to this image of the Khalsa? Where is it seen in practice? Is tenderness being cultivated within? What about restraint, discipline, grace, and compassion? 

Collectivity and Accountability
What is our Responsibility to One Another?  

In 2023, Digwa was reported to the police by his local Gurduara in Hampshire. A Sangat (community) member lodged a complaint related to safeguarding and the alleged theft of weapons. The complainant pursued the matter with Hampshire Police, who said they followed up on all available lines of inquiry with the relevant parties and arrested two men in their 20s on suspicion of theft. Based on the available evidence, no further action was taken against these men. A Gurduara official stated that Digwa was dismissed as a Gatka teacher in August of that year after stealing £1,000 worth of Shastars (traditional weapons).

Another member of the local Gurduara described Digwa as argumentative and confrontational, noting "anger problems" and a tendency toward pathological lying. An acquaintance also recalled his bad temper and sense of impunity.

It seems neither the Hampshire police nor Digwa’s larger Sangat, including his family, acted proactively despite his signs of reckless and violent behavior. While acknowledging the unfortunate reality that the actions of one reflect on the many, Sikh thought ultimately holds that responsibility must be understood at the individual level, especially for those initiated into the Khalsa. The Khalsa siblinghood is, in part, about making that greater commitment to the Guru and accepting a greater sense of accountability—knowing that on this path, one will be held to a higher standard and called to account when one falls short. There is a sense of collectivity here. Treating this case as a symptom of a larger issue, the question is, what is our responsibility to each other? 

Accountability among Amritdhari Sikhs is virtually nonexistent in the Panth, even within stricter Jathebandis, especially on matters of the Kirpan and its responsible use. This work is long overdue. Though there are no clear answers as of yet, it deserves discussion and reflection.

Individually, it is a shared responsibility to begin the long, effortful journey of engaging with Sabad—not just through Babas, Jathas, AI, preachers, or those we deem ‘learned,’ but through ourselves and for ourselves. What could a relationship with Sabad look like beyond constantly looking to extract concrete meaning, beyond giving in to the fear of ‘not getting it’ at first? What could it look like if we understood that relationship as a constant conversation, changing and growing with us through time? 

Through this relationship with Sabad, it is also the responsibility of the Panth to seek Sabad's guidance in understanding the principles behind the Panj Kakars. What are they in the vision of the Guru? What are they for each and every one of the Panth personally? It is also the Panth’s responsibility to emphasize the principles of love, Oneness, compassion, grace, and discipline over external uniform or display. If this internal work remains undone, the external becomes nothing more than a costume. 

Institutionally, the Panth ought to work toward greater inclusion, greater depth, and greater non-judgment. What would it look like to have a truly inclusive Panth? What might it look like if, instead of trying to meet quotas for Amrit at the end of a Sikh gathering, the Panth engaged in slow, meaningful discussions and reflections on the Panj Kakars? What if the youth were encouraged to develop a relationship with these gifts from the Guru beyond simple definitions and legal codes? What if this relationship were experiential, an ongoing love story between every Sikh and their Guru?

We do have a responsibility to one another. We are the collective. May we cultivate tenderness. May our love for the Guru resound in our hearts. May we become sweeter through this work. 

References

¹   Court Poets  of Guru Gobind Singh Sahib, Chandra Sain Sainapati and Bhai Nand Lal Goya both mention the 5Ks in their writings.

²   Raj Kumar Hans, Bhai Jaita's Epic Sri Gur Katha: a New Milestone in the Sikh Literature, Paper for the Conference on Sikhi(sm), Literature and Film, Hofstra University, 2012, pp.4.

³   Harinder Singh, Translator. Shahid Baba Jivan Singh: Jivan, rachna te viakhia. Giani Nihan Singh Gandiwind, Bhai Chattar Singh Jiwan Singh, Amritsar, 2008. pp. 178.
Original Text as follows:
ਸਵੈਯਾ: ਪਾਂਚ ਬਡੇ ਪ੍ਰਭ ਕੈ ਦਰ ਹੈਂ, ਅਰ ਪਾਂਚ ਕਾ ਮਾਨ ਹੈ ਗੁਰਦਰਬਾਰੇ
ਕ੍ਰਿਪਾਨ ਕੜਾ ਕਛ ਕੰਕਤ ਕਰ ਦੀਨਹਿਂ ਨਿਸਚੈ ਪਾਂਚ ਕਕਾਰੇ।
ਪਾਂਚ ਕਕਾਰ ਦੀਏ ਗੁਰ ਨੇ ਪੁੰਜ ਪਾਂਚ ਕਾ ਪਾਂਚ ਵਿਕਾਰਨ ਮਾਰੇ।
ਭੇਦ ਕੋਇ ਗੋਪ ਨਹਿ ਇਨ ਮਹਿੰ ਪ੍ਰਭ ਕੇ ਚਿੰਨ ਪਾਂਚ ਪ੍ਰਭੂ ਅਤਿ ਪਿਆਰੇ॥110॥

⁴   Read more: https://thesociologyguy.com/2025/11/12/the-crisis-of-masculinity-and-the-epidemic-of-male-loneliness-in-the-uk/ 

⁵   Puran Singh, Spirit of the Sikh, Vol. 1, p.51

⁶   Puran Singh, Spirit of the Sikh, Vol. I (Patiala: Punjabi University Press, 1982), pp.51