08 March 2009

Operation Shudi Karan Rape Sikh Girls 1984

NOTE: This post is not recommended for children, although this is a subject that all Sikhs need to know.

As International Women's Day, 2009, draws to a close here in North America, I think it is appropriate that we stop and remember the sufferings of our Sikh sisters at the hands of the Punjabi police in 1984, lead by the infamous, notorious Gobind Ram, who called his urine the "Amrit of Gobind Ram," as he forced Amritdhari women to drink it.

I apologise for the necessity of posting something in such incredibly bad taste.

URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogwT_A4Oidw

With thanks to DS Gill, IHRO

The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me


I've had my share of life's ups and downs
But fate's been kind, the downs have been few
I guess you could say that I've been lucky
Well, I guess you could say that it's all because of you

If anyone should ever write my life story
For whatever reason there might be
Ooo, you'll be there between each line of pain and glory
'Cause you're the best thing that ever happened to me
Ah, you're the best thing that ever happened to me

Oh, there have been times when times were hard
But always somehow I made it, I made it through
'Cause for every moment that I've spent hurting
There was a moment that I spent, ah, just loving you

If anyone should ever write my life story
For whatever reason there might be
Oh, you'll be there between each line of pain and glory
'Cause you're the best thing that ever happened to me
Oh, you're the best thing that ever happened to me
I know, you're the best thing, oh, that ever happened to me

This post is purely personal and probably self-indulgent. Possibly I shouldn't talk about it in a public forum. I have noticed a change in myself. For the past almost 25 years, I have sung the above song, always to my beloved martyred husband. I think I was reminding myself of all the happiness, the good times we had had with our little nuclear family consisting of Mani, my husband, Sandeep, our child and myself. (Not forgetting also my huge joint family, of course, but for this purpose, I was thinking just about the three of us.)

When I would feel a bit down, lonely, perhaps verging on - horrors! - self-pity, I would remind myself that, while there had been a lot of problems and some tragedy in my life, overall it has been a pleasant life, full of all sorts of wonderful things. I had had a love from my husband that most people only dream about. I was the adored, pampered, spoiled wife of a very good and loving man and the mother of an equally sweet, loving saintly Sikhling. Since I seem to be writing a bit of a tribute to the great males in my life, let me mention in passing that my Dad was also a great man who took great pains with my education, gently - usually - moulding me into the woman I am now. I have had to remind myself of these blessings from time to time.

So I have often found myself singing this song to my dear Mani.

Last week, while on my daily walk, I found myself singing it again. But, astonished, I realised, with a difference. No longer was I singing to Mani. Walking and seeing Vaheguru, Akaal Purakh, whatever term you might wish to use, I was singing not to a beloved man, but to my Guru.

I suddenly realised what really was "the best thing that ever happened to me." However great this man Mani was/is, however great our love, these things are effects. Now I see and realise the Cause. I know this is all very obvious and something I have always been taught, but this was an 'aha!' moment, an epiphany for me. Now it is a part of my personal reality. (I told you this was personal and self-indulgent.)

Life is hard, yes, otherwise what would be the point? Life is also good. Akaal Purakh is good. Our dhan dhan ten Nanaks are good. Our eternal Guru is good. So much goodness around us. So much greatness.

"Who in such a world as this cannot heal his sorrows? Welcome this sweet sunset bliss. Sunrise comes tomorrow."

Anonymous poet

International Women's Day - 2009

I was so very sincerely hoping that this year, I would be able to write a nice cheerful post about how much progress we have made in the last year regarding the most important women's issue in the Punjabi Sikh community. (Here I speak not of the nonPunjabi Sikh community; they have their own problems, fortunately not this particular one.)

I am referring, of course to the murdering of our daughters before they are born, what is called female foeticide. I have named this the Fourth Ghallugharah, and it is still in full swing. SHAME ON US!

No my dear brothers and sisters, I refuse to let up until this horror is ended!


Unfortunately, I can do nothing better than to reproduce my post from International Women's Day of last year, 2008.

Maybe next year...

There is a lovely little nursery rhyme that every child in the UK and Canada knows. I am not so sure about the children of India, so I reproduce it here: (If you'd like to hear the melody go to
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.)
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

As long as I have been expressing myself publicly (about 2 years), I
have said that the most dangerous enemy we Sikhs have is not the
Indian government, the Deras or even the Hindus. It is no force from
outside our own community. It is ourselves. We are fast destroying
ourselves through one particular practice. I have here a little poem
I wrote about that. It unites IWD and our self-destructive

Tinkle, tinkle, little boy,
Bring your parents so much joy.
You're their diamond, you're their pearl,
They're so glad you aren't a girl.

Punjab practice straight from hell.
Very soon its evil tell.

You are looking for a wife,
Someone who will share your life.
Not a woman to be found,
Rotting foetus in the ground.

Guru's teaching has been taught,
But its meaning never sought.
Daughter is a gift from God,
Not a dead, decaying clod.

Without woman, there's no life,
No more children, no more wife.
Guru's teachings die off now,
Go and worship sacred cow.

Tinkle, tinkle, little boy,
Bring your parents so much joy.