In earlier times, children would sit cross-legged on the floor, wooden Patti in hand, tracing each letter under the watchful eyes of their teachers. This was no ordinary act. It was a sacred rite—the beginning of awakening, where every curve of the script carried the potential to open inner worlds. The alphabet wasn’t just learned; it was felt, honored, and memorized with reverence.

Each letter was a whisper of the One, each syllable a step toward illumination.

From this beautiful tradition emerged a poetic form—Patti—where each script letter becomes a vessel of insight. Within the Guru Granth Sahib, this form is not just preserved but elevated. Compositions like Patti by Guru Nanak Sahib and Guru Amardas Sahib, Oankar by Guru Nanak Sahib, and Bawan Akhari by Guru Arjan Sahib and Bhagat Kabir Ji transform language into a divine bridge, linking the seen with the unseen, the finite with the Infinite.

These compositions remind us: letters are not just symbols.
They are sacred flames lighting the corridors of consciousness.
They carry within them the fragrance of the Wisdom, the kind that does not just inform but transforms.

In the fourth couplet of Patti, Guru Amardas Sahib delivers a piercing call through the letter ਜ (jajjā):
O mind! What kind of account have you studied that your deeds still weigh heavy on you?

A mirror is held before us. The fool, the Guru says, is not only the one who is robbed, but the one who allows the robbery of their own awareness.

Our consciousness—our inner light—is the spark of IkOankar, the One. It is meant to guide us, yet we dim it ourselves. In chasing accolades, degrees, titles, and validations from a world in constant flux, we lose sight of the eternal. We convince ourselves that we are not the ones adrift. That others are more lost. More blind. More detached.
But the truth is more sobering.

We are the ones who forget.
We are the ones who look away.
We are the ones who allow our spark to flicker and fade.

Caught in the comforts of ignorance, we begin to burn—not in divine warmth but in the fire of our own vices. The Light, which could have guided us, now flickers dimly, unheard and unseen. And without that Light, how will we settle our inner debts? What burdens will we even recognize, let alone release?

These are not just reflections. They are reminders.
Gentle nudges. Sacred invitations.

Let us return.
To the letter.
To the Light.
To the teachings etched on ancient slates and the wisdom that still echoes in their grain.

For in every letter resides a possibility—
To learn not just how to read,
But how to see.

Pause with a letter. Sit with its sound.
What might it reveal to you?
What truth might awaken within?

Let us no longer skim the surface of words.
Let us dwell in them.
Let us allow the Sabad to write itself—not just on our tongues, but in our hearts.

Begin again.
One letter at a time.
One breath at a time.
The Light is waiting.

May Wisdom-Guru guide us!