30 March 2007

'A Big Apology'

Earlier this month we received this e-mail. Thinking that the readers of our blog might like to read it, we have received the author's permission to publish it. We had offered to leave his name off, but he said it was matter of honour to him to support our cause. He is now 33 years old and has recently moved to America. Here is his letter.

Respected writer,
I today happened to read about your life incidents on the
October 31 - November 6, 1984. I am very sorry for what had happened back then,
I just can't imagine the pain you must have gone through, If anything I offer
you heart felt condolences and a big and sincere apology on behalf of all Hindus
who participated in that gory act of vandalism and hate. Please understand that
tragedy was the work of very mindless individuals; and the larger community all
around the India at that time and still do sympathize with the victims and their
near and dear ones and if possible please don't hate all Hindus for the this
very reason.
Respectfully Yours
Suresh Sharma

Here is the reply from Maman (Vini):

Esteemed reader, Mr. Sharma,

Thank you for your gracious
note. Yes, we had a lot of pain and we still do and we always
Goodwill and the hope that people will not let it happen again
help keep us
going. Of course, we do not hate all Hindus. I
think I don't hate
any Hindus. I want justice, though. We all

you again for your note.

regards to you and your

Vini Kaur

And here is the reply from Mai and Suni:

Dear Mr. Sharma,

The three of us have been discussing your letter since
it came to our in boxes yesterday. Maman (Vini) has already answered you. So
this is from Mai and Suni, with Mai actually writing and Suni kibbitzing.

We are grateful for your sentiments. We hope our blog has put a human
face on this tragedy. After all, these things happened to real people, like us,
two normal, ordinary Sikh women caught up in abnormal, extraordinary
circumstances. We are more than happy to accept your apology on your own behalf.
Your sincerity is apparent and quite moving. However, you cannot really
apologise for others who may or may not be sorry for what they did. And I have
not heard a single apology from a real participant, only from a Sikh Prime
Minister on behalf of the government. I realise, of course, that an individual's
apology might result in legal trouble, so I don't expect any such thing.

If your sincerity extends to wanting to do something, might I suggest
aiding the survivors in Delhi? Many of them are living in a physical as well as
a mental and emotional hell. I know they accept any help with great gratitude.
We are fortunate ourselves, we could easily have ended up in that condition and
we ache for our sisters and our brothers who have not been able to recover even

Another, much more minor thing, you could do is not to
ridicule us; I'm sure you don't do that anyway. But these sardar jokes, the
Bollywood portrayals and the Santa/Banta jokes which aren't even funny have got
to go. It is much easier to mistreat people who are already treated with

As for hating Hindus, we simply don't, for lots of reasons.
To begin with, prejudice is a very heavy burden to bear - as well as being
immoral. It would be against the very foundation of Sikhism for us to indulge in
such evil.

A second reason, one we cannot tell in our blog, although we
wish we could, is that Hindus saved our lives.

It was like this:


But they are the only reason you
are reading this now.

In addition, the other members of the household,
who all survived uninjured, hid with Hindu friends, who were also taking risks
in aiding them.

On the other hand, on a lighter note, we do demand a
special respect from our Hindu friends - of which we have many - reminding them
that if it weren't for us Sikhs, they might well be called Muhammed or Miriam.

We appreciate the fact that you signed your name. That took a great deal
of courage.

We would like your permission to post your letter - without
your name, of course - on our blog. I'm sure many Singhs and Singhnis would be
very happy to read it. Please think about this: if you look for that bit of God
in each individual, you could never possibly mistreat anyone, ever.

warmest regards,

Mai and Suni

We have no idea how our readers will react to this, but we thought you should be given an opportunity to reply.

29 March 2007

The Warrior In Today's Society.

I have been carrying this article around in my wallet since I first found it last June. I have, however, in my own copy regendered all the pronouns, so it refers to the woman warrior directly. If anyone would like a copy of that, please contact me - address on the sidebar -->

It shows, to a large degree, how I/we attempt to live my/our life/lives.

Warrior in Today’s Society
Jermaine Andre is a professional mixed martial artist, a great warrior and a righteous man. These are his words.

'To be a warrior in today's society is to be one of the unaccepted and misunderstood.

As a true warrior carries more concern and emotion than the average person, he must always suppress his feelings so that he will not die from sadness.This usually leads the judgmental into believing that the warrior is a man of no heart. A true warrior looks deeply into all things without limiting his mind inside of the borders of societies restrictions. He makes his judgments off of what he has learned through experience instead of what he is told to believe.

A code of honor is always established somewhere within a warrior's life. His honor is more important to him than life itself. He would rather be dead with honor than alive without it. Please understand that a warrior's honor is not to be confused with a fool's ego. A warrior of today must always keep himself disconnected from the gratifications that society allows. Material things and money are only that to him. He must always be prepared to die for what he believes in, so he must never fear leaving things behind.

They do not sway with the winning side if it is in the wrong. This would be dishonorable. A warrior knows of things that the domesticated doesn't because of his courage to seek and find at his own will. This always keeps him separate from the sheep who follow the manipulating shepherd.

He does not look for his honor through fame or what other people think of him.

Even if the world condemns what he is doing as wrong, he will keep doing it if he himself feels that it is right. He does not seek the approval of misled and misguided men. Only the approval of the Spirit that he has chosen as his leader.

To the warrior, his only fear of death, is to die a cowardly one. To die a good, warrior's death … is only a blessing from his Superior Spirit.

Death through life is what the warrior will seek … and life through death, is what he shall find.'

Sevadaars Note : From reading the above what is the difference between a GurSikh and a Modern Day Warrior : NOTHING!!

WaheguruJeeKaaKhalsa WaheguruJeeKeeFateh!!

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 3rd, 2006 at 9:00 am

From: Singhs At The Crossroads

Reprinted with permission

23 March 2007


If the previous post were fiction, I would end it thus:

'A few days later I returned to the same spot. All I saw was a vacant lot strewn
with litter. No Nishan. No gurdwara. [fade out, playing Twilight Zone

Of course, nothing like that happened.

The granthi suggested that I knew what I needed to do. He was right, of course, but I felt as though he were suggesting that I turn myself into the Gestapo for execution. I had totally forgotten the love and compassion that exists within our sister/brotherhood. That small group of Khalsa know all the details of my 'crimes and misdemeanours.'

After chopping off my hair (#1) and disappearing into maya, I decided that to fully experience maya I needed to try drugs. And I did...everything I could find (#2). I hated it all, and felt like a perfect idiot. There were two exceptions to that: Courvoisier (after all, I am almost half French) and smoking. The cognac was pleasant, but easy enough to give up. Smoking, though, I had to try many times before being able to stop. Eventually, though, I succeeded. Our Guru Gobind Singh Ji was totally correct is his condemnation of tobacco. It is dangerous and insidious. I remained a vegetarian, so halal meat(#3) was no problem. I can just imagine everyone waiting to hear details of my filthy sex life (#4). I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint the more licentious of my readers; there was no sexual misbehaviour. My shield there was only my love for Mani. I couldn't bear to cheapen what we had had in our marriage. I am not sure of the order, but those are all four.

My sisters and brothers were all wonderful to me. When I was partway through my sewa, I had a major stroke; I flatlined twice and was expected to die and stay dead. I didn't. Every one of them came to me in hospital with encouragement and hope.

I have continued to clean up my life, now with half my body not working properly. So it goes. I am slowly moving toward some sort of normalcy. I can walk and I can talk and I can write. A soldier I have always been; the saint part takes a lot longer. I pray that will come in time.


20 March 2007

Where My Foot Steps Down Is Where It's Home

I found this statement on Valerie Kaur's website. She is the woman who made the film Divided We Fall and the statement relates to that. We felt it could equally refer to our blog. We would encourage everyone, actually we would demand, if we could, that everyone reading our blog go to this address and read this post in her blog, Into the Whirlwind:

"I didn't start the journey because I thought I was the best person for the
job but rather because I could not be whole in the world without trying. I think
all of us are presented with moments when we must choose whether to cross our
fear and do something risky but important - or turn away and stay comfortable."



The rest of this post is not so easy to write. Several people have expressed an interest in what happened to me during the twenty years I was separated from my family and the Sangat. How would I title that? My Life in Exile or perhaps more accurately, My Life As A Patit?

I didn't break all the rules, but enough that I am not yet willing to face world-wide humiliation, even anonymously on the Internet. Maybe I'm not even really ready to face them in myself. (My ego will destroy me yet!) The truth is that I am not ready to make public all my mistakes, no, not mistakes, because I knew what I was doing, during those twenty years. Nor am I willing to gloss over the way that I lived and the things that I did. So the telling of those tales will have to wait for my spiritual growth.

I did, however, accomplish one thing that I can write about.

One person asked me, 'Did you find what you were looking for out there?'

The answer is, 'Yes, in a sort of back-handed way. In fact, I found that what I was looking for wasn't out there.'

The story of how my life as a tourist, an adventurer and an explorer in Maya ended is hopeful and worth telling.

I walk a lot. It is one of my favourite ways to think, contemplate and just be. I have often thought the people in my neighbourhood, if they notice me at all, must think I am a crazy eccentric just wandering around with her head in the clouds.

One day, I walked a bit farther than I had gone before. Without realising it, I had strolled several kilometres from home and found myself outside of a smallish square building with an inviting look to it. I looked up and saw the Nishan flying proudly above the surrounding trees. I felt an almost physicalfeeling of something pulling on my body, a compulsion to go in. So for the first time in twenty years, I entered a gurdwara.

There were several people inside, but no one who had ever seen me before. I had thought I would feel strange, but a sense of familiarity came over me. I did all the prescribed things, almost in a fog and found myself approaching our beloved Guruji. I bowed before him and, as my forehead touched the floor, I felt those years and the stench of all those stupid things I had done melt away from me. I had come home and I felt as if Guruji had welcomed me back.

I sat, not in a daze exactly, but also not in my usual state of consciousness. I sat, eyes closed, for a long time. I could hear the people around me, including a couple of kids that kept running around, but nothing disturbed me.

When I finally opened my eyes, everyone was gone except the granthi. When I got up to leave, he spoke to me.

He asked the questions I would expect since I was a complete stranger who looked like a gorah and acted like a Sikh.

I told him some of my story. He glanced at the scars on my right arm and I just nodded. He suggested that we ask Guruji what he has to say about all this. So we did. The Hukamnama was on page 709. I'm not going to reproduce it here, but a link to the Sri Granth Guru Sahib, Guruji, is www.srigranth.org/servlet/gurbani.gurbani?S=y. Since you are reading this, I assume you have access to the Internet.

That is enough of the story for now. I did not immediately contact my family. I still had a long way to go. But this was a first step, and a happy one.

Being lost is worth the coming home.

Neil Diamond, Stones

The title of this post is taken from a song The Crippled Lion by Michael Nesmith

09 March 2007

Another Great Shaheed in the Battle For Khalistan

Please visit this blog to read this post. It is a great story of courage and hope about the life and death of Bhai Hakam Singh, another modern shaheed in the battle for Khalistan.


We most highly recommend this whole blog.

06 March 2007

My Fairy Tale

After the events of 1984 and 1985, after my body had more or less healed. I left my family in a kind of self-imposed exile. I made an agreement with my eldest brother that I would always let him know where I was; he, in turn, would not let anyone know that he knew anything about me. I agreed that I would return to the family after twenty years.

Very near the end of those 20 years, I suffered a major stroke and actually flat-lined, i.e. died, twice. My husband, following instructions I had given him in case I died or was incapacitated, called Alain, who came, along with most of my other surviving brothers and Suni. That is enough background. At the end, I have a question that has been plaguing me through all these years.

(This originally appeared in my personal blog.)

I have hesitated to tell the story of leaving my family because it doesn't reflect well on any of us. But I had written this fairy tale to read to them when I knew we were all getting together.

So last night I read it to them. At the end, (I originally ended it with her roaming madly), they all sat silent for a time. Then Al spoke. 'Mai, you have to put it in your blog.'

'No, it's too personal and I want to keep my blog public. And you come out looking even worse than I do.'

"My dear baby sister, I'm still the King - [he is the head of the family] - and I say it has to go in. But please do something about the ending. We're all here and nobody's crazy any more. Write an ending with some hope.'

Truthfully, that astonished me because Al very rarely speaks as the family head. I looked at the others. They all agreed with Al, so here is the story.

The Haircut - A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in the fabled land of Canada in the province called Quebec, there was a magical village named Montreal, where lived two Princesses, Mai and Suni with King Alain their brother, the Queen his wife and their three young Princes in a high tower. There had aforetimes, as they had been traveling in a far land, been a great battle, and the two Princes their husbands, and their children had been slain in honourable combat against a wicked but powerful foe. The elder Princess, Mai, a mighty warrior, as were all her family, had been severely injured in the battle. The younger, Suni, being very heavy with child and, unable to fight, had guarded their most valuable possession, the great scriptures. These were no ordinary scriptures, but living scriptures of such power that, it was said, if men would heed to its words, all people would live in peace and happiness.

After the battle ended, some kind people found the two Princesses and took them back to their royal family, many mile across the vast ocean. When the time came, Princess Suni gave birth to a daughter. Given the necessities of the time, she was
named Princess Hope.

In due time, the elder princess, Mai, regained consciousness and
in the healing air of the tower, slowly recovered. What a lovely sight the two Princesses made sitting together in the great hall of the tower! Mai, short and slender
and fair, with dark brown hair and green eyes. Suni, tall and slender and dark, with shining black hair and soft brown eyes. Both had very long hair which was the custom of the people of their kingdom and was a great joy to them.

This was a time difficult for the whole royal family to endure. Two of King Alain's six brothers and two
nephews had been slain, as well as the Princesses' husbands. In addition, it weighed heavily upon him that he had taken a vow to always protect his sisters, a vow he had been unable to keep, since they had been so far from the kingdom.

The King went quite mad. For some days he sat half naked on the floor in the middle of the great hall, wearing only his undergarment, refusing to bathe or even comb his long hair. Meanwhile, no one was governing the kingdom.

One day, Mai, in great distress at her brother's behaviour, called the King to her. He heavily raised himself up and stumbled to where she was sitting near the large fireplace.
Loudly, she said,'Your Majesty, my brother, you are a disgrace. You are dirty, you smell bad and your hair is becoming matted. You are not even properly dressed . Have you forgotten your kingdom? And do you not care what the people of the neighbouring kingdoms will say of us, if even our King behaves so?' She whispered something to him and, when he leaned to hear her, she struck him hard across the face. He cried out and jumped back. Mai, being a warrior, always had her sword with her. She whipped it out and held out her hair and chopped it off. Everyone in the hall gasped, as they knew that her hair was her treasure and to cut it off was a great taboo and she would be terribly disgraced. She threw it into the fire.

Then she turned to her brother and said,'Are you going to act like the King again or do you have to be next?' Again she raised her sword. He, realising her sacrifice, cried and knelt at her feet and said, 'I will do as you say.' The Queen was called. She came and
much relieved, took the King and bathed him and dressed him in fine clothes and combed his long black hair until it shone. When next he was seen, his heart was still heavy, but he had regained his sanity and again became the great King he had been before.

In every fairy tale, someone must pay the price for the restoration of the King.

When the insanity left King Alain, it jumped into Princess Mai. A princess no more with her shorn hair, she had no protection from possession by the madness. So, despondent and mad, she left her royal family and the safety of the tower and the kingdom, and went into exile. For twenty years she was heard of no more, as she wandered madly from place to place, having many great adventures,
for she still retained her courage and boldness as well as the memories of being a warrior Princess.

At last, after the twenty years passed, Mai was struck down by a mortal illness. As she lay dying and then dead, word of her illness came to her brother the King. With their brothers and their sister, he rushed to her side to revive her. When she opened her eyes and saw her royal family around her, her joy knew no bounds. The King took her in his arms and said,'You once restored me to my throne. It is now my turn to restore you.'

(To be continued)

And that is where this blog comes in...

(Next?) The love of her family was so great that little by little, over time,she regained her sanity and became a Princess again. And all the people of the kingdom rejoiced.

I always try to find pictures after I have written and published a post. Alain took a look at that picture and nearly fainted. He didn't really look quite that bad - I add this to save his dignity, after all, he is the king - but almost.

This is my question: Did I, as a Khalsa, do wrong, as I am believe, by cutting my hair? I know I broke a sacred vow with both eyes wide open. I was not insane; I was totally responsible for my actions. I do not accept, as one person has suggested to me, that I acted under duress; I cannot imagine a daughter of Guru Gobind Singh claiming duress. I also believe now, as I believed then, that if I had not totally shocked them, our family would have fallen apart. Of course, it's far too late to change anything now, but I have been bothered by this for a long time.


Personal note to Anonymous, who left a comment on 20 February: We have tried to reply in the comment section numerous times, but for some reason, it refuses to puiblish. So here is what we want to say.

We decided to stop this blog because we felt that our stories had been told.

However, if we are actually helping anyone, we will post here, we will continue this blog and we will share. We can only share our experiences, thoughts and feelings. Only Waheguru knows if our writings will inspire. That part is in her/his hands, not ours.

This blog is the result of our love for Sikhi and of our sisters and brothers of the Panth. We are very happy to know that our efforts have been appreciated and we are deeply greatful that you have told us so.

Thank you.

Vini, Suni and Mai (DKK)

05 March 2007

Thoughts in the Night

I have a major problem sleeping at night. As I have stated elsewhere, I think my last full night's sleep was on October 30, 1984. So I often lie awake random thoughts buzzing in my head. Many of these thoughts take me back to that time.

Last night before going to bed, I read some news accounts of Hola Maholla, which gave me some hope that perhaps we will someday realise our dream of Khalistan. I pray that this young generation really will have the strength and fervour to carry on as our ancestors did. I read so much about how wussy this generation is; I refuse to believe it.

One particular thought came to me about 1984. It could, in fact, be about many occasions of our history, but I happened to be there in 1984. Our enemies broke our hearts and broke our bodies, but they could not break our spirit or our will. They wounded our spirit. They wounded our will. But they couldn't break us. We are still here, and by the grace of Guru, we will remain here.

They broke my heart.
They broke my body.
They did not break my spirit.
They did not break my will.

From a different context:

I'll come back even

Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've strengthened
conviction in my soul

From I Am Woman


A Personal Note To Our Readers

Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa. Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh.

We had intended to quit posting to this blog since we felt our stories were complete. But since we have gotten several e-mails and comments, we have decided to continue posting. However since we have come to the end of our 1984 stories, the nature will have to change. We don't know exactly where we'll be going from here, only that it will have to do with our experiences and lives as Sikh women in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries of the common era, as we continue on the road to Khalistan.

We would whole-heartedly welcome guest authors who would write about their own experiences and reactions to the tragedies that befell our people in 1984. If you would like to be such a guest author, just e-mail us. We really do answer all e-mails. Obviously we can't answer anonymous comments personally because we have no way to contact you.

Vini (Maman) is tired of confronting 1984 on a daily basis and Suni needs to get back to her professional work, so most of this blog will have to fall on Mai, who already has her sometimes 2 blog. All three of us will OK each post before it goes in.

Someone has asked about the photos we took of all of us before the battle. Yes, we do have those and, no, we are not ready to publish them. One reason for blogging on the Internet instead of publishing a book is to preserve our privacy; clearly posting pictures of us would destroy that. Also, Mani wanted proof that we had not cut our hair, so the pictures show all of us with our hair down and open, pictures that to the men would border on pornographic. They are beautiful pictures, but just for us. The pictures of us fully dressed, as already stated would show our identities, which we prefer to remain hidden.

Also our rescuers took photos of the aftermath of the fighting. I think our reasons for keeping those to ourselves should be obvious. They are gruesome and graphic and unbearably personal and painful to us. We cannot bear the thought of anyone looking at them gloating over our loss and we simply cannot permit them to be shown publicly at this time. Let us be totally frank here: Suni is willing to publish them. Vini and Mai are not. But the two of us have given our permission for their publication when we are no longer living. We think, however, that they will never be published on a public blog because they are so graphic that the blog would end up being flagged. Yes, they are that bad.

So we continue as best we can.

Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa. Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh.

Vini, Suni and Mai (Dharma Kaur Khalsa)