THANK YOU, JACK LAYTON

Take a good look at this picture.  This is what a friend of the Sikh people looks like.  Mr. Jack Layton, Leader of the NDP.

In the midst of this time of remembrance, we have gotten a gift of sorts from Jack LayTon, Leader of Canada's New Democratic Party - NDP (my party, if anyone's interested).  I am reproducing his statement below, courtesy of SAN (Sikh Activist Network).


I ask all my Canadian readers to please call him at 416-405-8914 to thank him for taking this bold, courageous step on our behalf.  Even if you aren't Canadian, I think a Thank you would be most appropriate. 


I also suggest you consider joining the NDP.  That is a "Thank you that would be most appreciated.

CALL JACK LAYTON AND THANK HIM NOW!
Phone #: 

 

 

416-405-8914

 

Other contact information\

Email Address
LaytoJ@parl.gc.ca

 

Mailing Address - Parliament Hill Office
Jack Layton, M.P.
Leader of the NDP
House of Commons
Ottawa, ON
Canada
K1A 0A6

Here ios a transcript of the statement which can be copy/pasted if anyone wishes to do so:

November 3, 2010

Statement by New Democrat Party Leader Jack Layton on the tragedy of November 1984
It is with great sorrow that I extend my sympathies on the 26th anniversary of the tragic pogroms of 1984 that targeted Sikh men, women and children.

The New Democratic Party of Canada stands in solidarity with the Sikh community, demands justice for the survivors and an explanation for why and how this community was targeted by organized mobs and government officials.

The victims and survivors of 1984 cannot sit idly by, waiting for the Indian government to recognize their plight and frustration.  Rehabilitation and support for the broken
families, especially the widows, must be prioritized.  The negligence of the police must be examined.  The truth and those guilty must be brought to justice.

These are not demands - these are obligations of a democratic government to its citizens.

Remembrance is the tie that binds us to our past as it guides us  for
the challenges of the future.

Lest we forget.

DELHI POGROM TRIBUTE 2010

I made this video to acknowledge the events of early November 1984 and to commemorate our beloved shaheeds.



My dear friend (and little sister, Kamal Kaur (Badyal) gifts us with the soundtrack.

One Dead Singh Reprise

I sat down a few days ago to write my November Pogrom piece for this year.  Rereading last year's, I realised that I couldn't write a better piece than this.  This is quite possibly the best thing I've ever written.

If you haven't read about what happened to us personally in Delhi during those first few days of November 1984, please go to the link in the sidebar.  I very much want to make this real to my readers by telling individual histories of this time.  This holocaust did not happen only to the Sikh people, it happened to individual Sikhs.  Like me.

ONE DEAD SINGH

Who is he? Who is this Singh? I have spent countless hours staring at this photograph asking myself questions. Whose son is he? Whose husband, whose dad, whose brother, whose uncle, cousin, friend? Is someone waiting anxiously at home for him, waiting for a footfall that will never come?

Where is he from? Does he live in Delhi or is he just visiting? Where was he born? What is his pind? When was he born? How old is he?

What is his occupation? Is he an engineer, a doctor, a professor? Or is he a taxi driver or a trucker?

What are his politics? Is he an Akali or a member of Congress? Is he a Khalistani or a Bharata Mata lover? Or is he political at all? Is he just trying to live his life and not really concerned about the niceties of the larger world.

Why is he keshdhari? Is it just habit, following family custom? Or is it deeply meaningful to him? Does he pray each day, do naam jap, love Vaheguru? Or are those just incidentals that have fallen by the wayside of his life? Where is his turban? How does he feel as it is ripped from his head and his kesh is exposed?

How does he feel as he realises the mob is coming for him, chasing him down the street or dragging him from his home or his car or from the bus? What goes on in his brain as the petrol is poured on him and set alight? What is he thinking as his body burns? Or is he beyond thought? Is he aware of the laughing jeering mob around him, enjoying watching his final agonising moments of life on this earth?

What is his last awareness as he dies alone, surrounded by merciless thugs?

Questions without answers. Whoever he is, he deserves to be remembered. I doubt he had even a death certificate, so I have made him one.

(Click to enlarge)

There is something so very final about the certificate. And, of course, I realise that all I have written is wrong and must be rewritten to reflect the truth of 25 26 years later...

Who was he? Who was this Singh? I have spent countless hours staring at this photograph asking myself questions. Whose son was he? Whose husband, whose dad, whose brother, whose uncle, cousin, friend? Was someone waiting anxiously at home for him, waiting for a footfall that never came?

Where was he from? Did he live in Delhi or was he just visiting? Where was he born? What was his pind? When was he born? How old was he?

What was his occupation? Was he an engineer, a doctor, a professor? Or was he a taxi driver or a trucker?

What were his politics? Was he an Akali or a member of Congress? Was he a Khalistani or a Bharata Mata lover? Or was he political at all? Was he just trying to live his life and not really concerned about the niceties of the larger world.

Why was he keshdhari? Was it just habit, following family custom? Or was it deeply meaningful to him? Did he pray each day, do naam jap, love Vaheguru? Or were those just incidentals that had fallen by the wayside of his life? Where was his turban? How did he feel as it was ripped from his head and his kesh was exposed?

How did he feel as he realised the mob was coming for him, chasing him down the street or dragging him from his home or his car or from the bus? What went on in his brain as the petrol was poured on him and set alight? What was he thinking as his body burned? Or was he beyond thought? Was he aware of the laughing jeering mob around him, enjoying watching his final agonising moments of life on this earth?

What was his last awareness as he died alone, surrounded by merciless thugs?

He was our brother and he was one single human being, one Sikh among the thousands murdered during the madness of those days in 1984.

He is our brother and he deserves justice.

One final, unanswered question: When?