There is a strange species of religious double standard that deserves a little satire. Some people proudly declare, “Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is our Living Guru,” and say it with such confidence that one might think their every decision, every spiritual question and every bow of the head is guided by Gurbani. But then, when the weekend arrives, the same people can sometimes be found standing in the queue outside the dera of a self-styled baba, waiting for a blessing, a miracle, a special thread, a magical solution or perhaps a VIP darshan.
One has to ask: If Guru Granth Sahib Ji is truly your Living Guru, when did you appoint a second spiritual consultant?
This is where the comedy becomes serious.
The issue is not about respecting another human being or listening to someone’s advice. The real question is where a Sikh places ultimate spiritual authority. If a person publicly claims that Guru Granth Sahib Ji is the Guru, but privately runs from one dera to another seeking supernatural solutions, then there is an obvious contradiction between the words they preach and the life they practise.
Some even become extremely vocal defenders of Sikh principles in public. They lecture others about Gurmat, condemn people for supposedly going astray and proudly announce that they follow only the Guru. Then, mysteriously, their spiritual GPS suddenly changes direction when a famous baba’s dera appears on the map.
At the Gurdwara: “Guru Granth Sahib Ji is my Guru.” At the dera: “Baba Ji, please solve my problems.”
This is not exactly spiritual consistency. It is more like religious multitasking.
And the funniest part is what happens afterwards. The person returns and starts advising other Sikhs about Gurmat, Maryada and Panthic discipline. That is when one is tempted to ask politely:
“Brother, before teaching the Panth, could you please decide who your Guru is?”
Faith is not a costume that we wear differently according to the audience. If someone genuinely believes that Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is the eternal Guru, then that belief should be reflected in conduct, decisions and spiritual practice—not merely repeated during a discussion.
The problem becomes even greater when such people try to fool others by presenting themselves as extremely committed Sikhs while hiding their contradictory practices. Nobody should be required to prove their Sikh identity to anyone else, but neither should hypocrisy be marketed as religious authority.
A Sikh does not become more religious by collecting photographs with different spiritual personalities. Nor does standing outside a dera automatically make someone spiritually enlightened. And certainly, loudly claiming loyalty to Guru Granth Sahib Ji does not erase contradictory actions.
Perhaps the simplest test is this:
When life becomes difficult, where do you turn first? To Gurbani—or to the next person promising a miracle?
That question may be uncomfortable, but satire has a useful purpose: sometimes a little laughter exposes a contradiction more effectively than a hundred lectures.
The Sikh Panth does not need people who merely say the right words. It needs people whose actions have some relationship with those words.
So the next time someone announces, with great pride, “Guru Granth Sahib Ji is my Living Guru,” perhaps nobody needs to argue with them.
Just smile and ask:
“Excellent. Then why does your spiritual itinerary have so many dera stops?”
That is not an insult.
That is simply a question about consistency.