Resting, Relaxing and Laughing - BELLOWING

These first few posts have been incredibly heavy, as indeed they must be. However, it is important even on the road to Khalistan that we not forget to stop and laugh, once in a while. If you only want the heavy stuff, we'll be putting more of our experiences of 1984 on soon. I am running these two posts from another blog together, so they can be read in the correct order.

All three of us have gotten into trouble for our quirky sense of humour, so please try not to let us offend you.

I have some great pictures to go with them, but because people are actually reading this, I don't include them, not wanting to run into copyright problems.

So we start here:

...And They Bellow

I came across this in Bulletin 318 of the IHRO (International Human Rights Organisation) Bulletin 318, Article 9:

Khalsa males often come across as
militaristic, they
wear swords and they bellow.

Sikhs in general are noisy,
compared to Buddhists and
Protestants and Catholics etc. Sikhs often do not
fit Western stereotypes of
what Holy people are like and Gurdwaras seem
noisy and exotic to visiting
Westerners as well.

That so perfectly describes my whole crazy family, except Suni and Hope. I have been known to bellow and Maman does it as well as any of the men! I suspect Suni and Hope are quite capable of it, too; I just haven't been there.

But Dad had to be the world champion bellower. When he got going, you could hear him thundering in the next province! And on a really extreme day, no doubt in the next country. That would be America. Was he a Holy person? To me, of course, but objectively? I'm not sure. But I am sure that our dear Guru Gobind Singh Ji and he could have been great friends. Of my brothers, only Robert is not a bellower, but then he's the only one that isn't a Khalsa. Maybe this is a silly post, but it made me laugh and I guess after murder and mayhem and other such nastiness, it's time for a laugh.

This is Maman (Vini): I don't bellow, I just growl and roar in a very ladylike manner, very, very loudly!

I ran across this and am adding it on this post because it seems to fit and I like it:

Says T. Sher Singh:

Sikh identity is a state of mind: the
resolution to act as leaders.

We have a legacy of leadership in Sikh tradition, whether in battle, on the streets, in the classroom, or at the roundtable.

You are saint-soldiers – leaders in our world– above all.

.http://korematsu.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-first-sikh-conference-miami.html

And we refuse to be victims!

Of course...and we bellow .

__________________________________________

This now is an encounter with some 'ladies' who have been trying to drive Mai crazy. And you reading this will realise we are just three normal women, not the saints you seem to imagine us to be.

...And I Bellowed

(This is Mai) I take some pride in keeping myself under control. I simply do not lose my temper. I hadn't had a real explosion since 1984 - until this incident.

Consider my hair. Having a heart attack, a major stroke and being twice zapped with I don't know how many volts of electricity by a defibrillator within less than a year, have taken their toll. My hair is breaking off, falling out and, in general, a mess and now it hardly passes my shoulders. All women, and most men are quite vain about their hair. This, of course, multiplies infinitely if the woman is Sikh. So I was really annoyed to begin with.

OK. That is background.

I was resting when they banged on the door. The Church Ladies. At first, I ignored them and didn't answer the door, but then they came banging on the window and wouldn't leave. I finally, now wide awake, answered the door. I guess I should have just told them to go away, but they helped take care of me after the stroke and I didn't want to appear ungracious, so I let them in.

It was bitterly cold outside right then, around -8 Celsius, yes, minus. And snow on the ground. They wanted tea, of course. I said, 'No, I'm tired. I'm taking a nap. Please, I need to rest.'

They decided that I needed tea and they would be helpful and make it themselves. In MY HOME. Without my permission.

But I am civilised, so I kept repeating to myself, 'Sat Naam, Sat Naam,...' I calmly asked them to knock it off and go home. But it really was miserable outside, and I am not heartless, so I let them have their tea.

At this point, Maman and Suni, who had been grocery shopping, walked in.

While the CLs were drinking, one of them commented on my hair. 'If you'd just trim it a little to even it out..' (Wrong!)

Then she got up, walked to me, grabbed my hair and pulled on it. (Wrong, WRONG!!)

I wasn't sure what she had in mind, but the last time someone did that to me, I broke his arm.

I didn't break her arm, but I did growl at her. Yes, I have been told that when I get really angry, I growl. All my frustrations at the CLs rush out.

...And I bellowed.

'Take your f****** hands off my sacred kesh!!'

Then I suggested that she do a few things that are very obscene and probably anatomically impossible. They were quite astonished at me.

I have always been civil to them, if not really friendly. And I may have used some words and concepts they had never heard of.

...And I bellowed.

Anyway, I quite scandalised them. I don't think they'll mess with my hair anymore. And maybe they won't be back at all.

Maman and Suni thought it was hilarious and said they had had it coming for a long time. Suni started singing,

'They have fangs, they have teeth, cry the dark bells of Neath...'

meaning me, not them. Writing this now, it sounds kind of funny. I admit I scare myself when I lose control.

At least this time, there were no physical injuries to anyone. I'm sure the dear darlings are either consigning me to eternal damnation or praying for my salvation. Impossible even to guess which.

And I can imagine, 'You see now what THEY are REALLY like. THEY pretend to be all godly and righteous, but underneath, THEY really need our Lord Jesus Christ.' And self-righteous agreement all the way around. Or something similar. Am I too hard on them?

And should I lay off the bellowing for another 22 years?

That is Mai's account. This is Vini (Maman). I think my Mai isn't the only one who gets tired of being tolerant, but she's really very good at it most of the time. I've known her since the day she was born and I'd never seen her lose her temper before. But these meddling biddies really did deserve it.

We hope we haven't terribly offended anyone, but we had to get out of 1984 for a while to preserve our collective sanity. We do have more to say about that, but let it wait a little while.
DKK