08 November 2007

My Journal - Part Four 17 December - 22 December 1984

Go here to read the whole unexpurgated journal.

Please read Part Three.

17 DECEMBER 1984

Yesterday it seemed .......not easy, but possible. Today I just can't [expletive deleted] take it. Forever. Always? Who the[expletive deleted] knows? Waheguru? Vahiguru? The nihang looks sad. I project all my feelings onto that beautiful, weathered face with the too-big-for-westerners nose, but I like it. I want to go kill me a few. No, not nihangs. Maybe I could bring a few to help me. I want to get those ones. SUNI KNOWS WHO SOME OF THEM ARE. BUT SHE WON'T SAY. SHE SAYS SHE DOESN'T, BUT I KNOW SHE DOES. AS SOON AS I HEAL UP, I'LL GET THEIR NAMES AND...who am I kidding?

I wonder if my mother will visit me. I'd like to spit in her tobacco-stinking face! She hates Sikhs. She hates her own children. [Expletives deleted.] Especially she hates me. But you'd think she'd show up. I wonder if anyone has told her.

[Expletive deleted] her in the [expletive deleted]! I NEED MANI BACK. AND MY SAINTLY SANDEEP. She would've liked to kill us all. [Expletive deleted] Catholic Hindu murdering [expletive deleted]!

Oh, my goodness gracious, but we are angry today, aren't we. No greed, lust, ego, attachment, but enough anger for all five. Let us laugh.

Where to turn for comfort? It's all so empty.

18 DECEMBER 1984


No, I can't forget this evening
Or your face as you were leaving
But I guess that's just the way the story goes
You always smile
But in your eyes your sorrow shows
Yes, it shows No, it doesn't. I never saw anyone look so happy.

No, I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
When I had you there but then I let you go
And now it's only fair that I should let you know
What you should know

Can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give any more
I can't live if living is without you
I can't give, I can't give any more

I can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give anymore
I can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give anymore

And the nihang smiles at me, 'Yes, you can, Khalsa lady.'

Oh, shut up, and stop smiling. I have the right to feel sorry for myself just now!!!!!!!!
And anyway, you're just a hysterical hallucination-----------Aren't you?

19 DECEMBER 1984

(Note from 2007: This entry contains quotes in Gurmukhi from the Sri Guru Granth Sahib. Hence it should be read with respect. The hands should be clean and the head covered. Even if you are not Sikh and/or you do not believe in God, it will do you no harm to show respect.)

I need to start praying. Somewhere I have lost that. To Jap Naam is supposed to be the highest prayer. But I need the others. I have to start with the Mool Mantar. I tried the other day. I couldn't. Perhaps if I simply write it...That's a start. Have to start somewhere. It would break Mani's heart if I didn't. So I try.
ੴ ਸਤਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ

What a strange feeling to be writing Gurmurki. Now I try to sing.

I get half way. Only halfway.

ੴ ਸਤਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ

No fear. No anger. I doubt it. No fear. I have nothing left to fear. But anger! Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I have enough of that to be the Christian image of God. He is one angry bastard. I remember we studied a sermon called Sinners In The Hands Of An Angry God in school. That would be enough to scare the shit out of anyone.

The nihang is staring at me. He wants me to complete the Mool Mantar. OK.

ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ

Now try to put it all together.

ੴ ਸਤਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ

The Nihang is smiling at me. He is pleased.

All this is at least distracting. My knee doesn't seem to hurt quite as much.

And I can feel Mani and Sandeep with me. My lovely shaheeds.

They used wander around the house singing Jap Ji Sahib. Mani had the whole thing memorised. Used to. Do they still do that where they are now?

My heart breaks, but I have to persist. They are dead. Shaheeds. And I am still Khalsa in Maya. Damn It!

(Note from 2007: I feel the need to add this note. The English translation of the Mool Mantar is:

One Universal Creator God. The Name Is Truth. Creative Being Personified. No Fear. No Hatred. Image Of The Undying, Beyond Birth, Self-Existent. By Guru's Grace. It is the root (mool) statement of belief of the Sikh religion.. I am going to try to put in a link to actually hear it. This is from the movie Rang De Basanti and includes a short meditation following the Mantar itself.)

Chant And Meditate:

ਆਦਿ ਸਚੁ ਜੁਗਾਦਿ ਸਚੁ
aad sach jugaad sach
True In The Primal Beginning. True Throughout The Ages.

ਹੈ ਭੀ ਸਚੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਹੋਸੀ ਭੀ ਸਚੁ ॥੧॥

hai bhee sach nanaak hosee bhee sach
True Here And Now. O Nanak, Forever And Ever True. 1

ਸੋਚੈ ਸੋਚਿ ਹੋਵਈ ਜੇ ਸੋਚੀ ਲਖ ਵਾਰ .
sochai soch na hova-ee jay sochee lakh vaar
By thinking, He cannot be reduced to thought, even by thinking hundreds of thousands of times.

ਚੁਪੈ ਚੁਪ ਹੋਵਈ ਜੇ ਲਾਇ ਰਹਾ ਲਿਵ ਤਾਰ
chupai chup na hova-ee jay laa-ay rahaa liv taar
By remaining silent, inner silence is not obtained, even by remaining lovingly absorbed deep within.

ਭੁਖਿਆ ਭੁਖ ਉਤਰੀ ਜੇ ਬੰਨਾ ਪੁਰੀਆ ਭਾਰ
bhukhi-aa na utree jay bannaa puree-aa bhaar
The hunger of the hungry is not appeased, even by piling up loads of worldly goods.

ਸਹਸ ਸਿਆਣਪਾ ਲਖ ਹੋਹਿ ਇਕ ਚਲੈ ਨਾਲਿ
sahas si-aanpaa lakh hohi ta ik na chalai naal
Hundreds of thousands of clever tricks, but not even one of them will go along with you in the end.

ਕਿਵ ਸਚਿਆਰਾ ਹੋਈਐ ਕਿਵ ਕੂੜੈ ਤੁਟੈ ਪਾਲਿ
Kiv sachi-aaraa ho-ee-ai kiv koorhai tutai paal
So how can you become truthful? And how can the veil of illusion be torn away?

ਹੁਕਮਿ ਰਜਾਈ ਚਲਣਾ ਨਾਨਕ ਲਿਖਿਆ ਨਾਲਿ ॥੧॥

hukam rajaa-ee chalnaa naanak likhi-aa naal
O Nanak, it is written that you shall obey the Hukam of His Command, and walk in the Way of His Will. 1

01___IK_ONKAAR.mp31384K Play Download

20 DECEMBER 1984

I have decided to write a haiku. I read you gotta have a certain sanity and serenity to count syllables and think of seasons. I have been thinking and I think I have the syllables right. Classic 5-7-5: Season: Autumn, implied but not stated. No humans, just nature. hahahahahaha!!

Leaves and bodies fall.
Smell of urine and dung.
Lions burn brightly.

Serene and sane.

The nihang looks at me, expressionless.

Then he grins and starts laughing.

How did you die, Mr. Nihang Singh Ji?

Sardar Nihang Singh Ji. That sounds better.

Lunchtime. I hate eating. They bring us food from home. I know it is delicious. They are all great cooks. But it all tastes like ashes and [expletive deleted]. The liquids , even water, wreaks of blood. They can't understand. I eat just enough that they don't get mad at me, somehow I keep it down usually. Not always though.

Poor Suni. She has to eat enough to keep making milk for the baby, our Hope. She is a symbol to us and she has to be strong and healthy. It is amazing that Suni can make good milk in her shape. But that baby is what we have left and she must have the best. The best. So Suni tries to laugh and play with her like nothing is wrong. She sings her lullabies in Punjabi about Gurus protecting her and keeping her safe. Her voice is so sweet and gentle. I wish I could sing. I wish they would let me walk or at least stand up. Every day Maman comes and moves the knee back and forth. It hurts, but not unbearably. I don't complain because I'm afraid they'll make me take more painkillers. I'd rather have the pain. I move the foot around. She holds the knee while I move the upper leg. I do not want the muscles to get too weak.

I have insisted and they're helping me with some therapy for my arms and torso. But I have to go easy on the abdomen because they did a lot of surgery there. I would like to do some weights on the arms but they won't let me because of the weakness in my stomach from all their cutting on me.

I want to get very strong and totally recovered and go back and hunt down those bastards and kill them personally. One by one. The nihang is looking at me. I can't read his expression. Today is a day I feel I can handle everything. Khalsa woman lives!!

Posted by Mai at 1:52 PM 0 comments Links to this post


21 DECEMBER 1984

I believe I have this all figured out. I understand it completely. It is a dream. A nightmare. I am just having a bad dream.

Soon I will wake up in our bedroom with the mountains all around me and the sun about to rise. I will reach up and pull until I uncover Mani's hair and then I'll pull his jura loose. He'll grunt at me, still asleep. Then, half awake, smile and open his eyes, and...

Posted by Mai at 2:25 PM 0 comments Links to this post


22 DECEMBER 1984

I wasn't totally wrong yesterday. Or totally deluded. Maya is a sort of dream, nightmare.

Somedays I think I am entirely sane. Other days I am completely crazy. As in having no reality base. I believe in the impossible.

Today I am sane. I do not believe in any of that garbage. None of it. The nihang does not exist. He is a delusion. Completely. Nonetheless, I see him standing over there, looking at me curiously. My mind - and Suni's - have concoted him as a sort of mirror of our feelings. Suni insists that he is real. That he lived and died and has voluntarily returned to Maya to help and guide us. She is crazy as a loon!

I just realised something. It is almost Christmas. My number one Christmas memory is the first Christmas after Sandy (Sandeep - he hated being called Sandy, he kept telling me he wasn't an old-time baseball pitcher (Sandy Koufax) and Sandeep was the perfect name Guruji chose for him and would I please stop calling him Sandy and use his correct name? OK, Son, you have it. Sandeep.) Anyway, he came home and asked if we were Christians and when we said, of course not, he demanded why did we celebrate Christmas. Mani tried to explain about it being a time for family and to give each other presents and to have fun, but those big grey eyes kept staring into his dad's big grey eyes and he wasn't buying it. He was right, of course, but who ever heard of a six-year-old throwing away Christmas? And his grampa looked so much like Santa Claus, except not fat. Sandeep refused to be in the school Christmas pageant. And we stopped celebrating Christmas.

And now my pure, young son has gone home. Christmas is not an issue there, I'm sure.

I wish I could spend some time with Guru Ji. I can't bow I can't even stand. But so much I would like to take a Hukamnama and try to meditate on it. I think I could meditate. Or at least make the effort.

I long so much for some normalcy. I want to go for a walk. I want food to taste good. I want a feeling of security and safety and nothing really bad can ever happen to me because really bad things happen to other people. ( 2007-Here is a drawing of a happy face crossed out.) I want, I want, I want...I want!

Is it real, Is it fake
Is this game of life a mistake?
Life had broken my pretty balloon.
It happened,
Suddenly it just happened,
The Happening.



  1. And look at who else is prepared to expose herself on her blog! Your writing is beautiful and I love the way it's such a mixture of anger/humour/sadness/strength. In some parts it reads like my diary - you acknowledge your sadness but never let yourself fall too deep.

    We don't have thanksgiving in Oz (though plenty to be thankful for) but I'll respond to your message with the things I am thankful to you for:
    For your support, your wisdom, your inspiring strength and the time you have taken to show an interest. And, of course, your friendship!

  2. Hi, serrin,

    Welcome to Khalistan!

    I do expose myself in this blog and in sometimes - 2, too. I think these stories need to be told and someone has to just come out and do it. I guess that someone is me. It's not easy for me to stand naked on the Internet for anyone who cares to look to see. I admit it's not as hard as it used to be, though.

    If I have any good qualities at all, such as strength, wisdom and support, it is only because I was taught those things as a Sikh. I can't take credit for them, even a little bit.

    No Thanksgiving in Oz?! That's like 'always winter and never Christmas!' (No, wait, that's the Jehovan's Witnesses. Sorry.) You really need to rectify that, if a Canuck is allowed to advise an Aussie.

    And I learned something: I was never sure how you thought of me. Thank you, my dear.

  3. Interesting, I always expect to be taken at face value and often discover that people aren't sure whether I care about them or not.

    A good friend of mine once told me "My time is the most valuable thing I have and is the greatest gift I can give someone. So if I give you my time, you know that I value you."


  4. Thank you. Very much. Even an old weather-beaten lioness needs the warm fuzzies once in a while...

    A friend is a great joy! :)



Please feel free to speak your mind. Dissension is allowed and welcomed. I only delete illegal comments and spam. OK, maybe obscene, but not usually.

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