Re: After 1984, The Deluge

I have just published a post about growing up in Punjab after 1984. It is mostly the thoughts of a Sikh man born in 1984. It could have been published in this blog, but for reasons I choose not to discuss, it won't be. However, I am sure the readers of The Road To Khalistan will want to read it. So here is After 1984, The Deluge. His writing really is worth your time to read.

My Journal - Part Three: 12 December - 16 December 1984

Click here to read the whole unexpurgated journal.


First please read Part Two.

12 DECEMBER 1984

Laura keeps asking questions. I keep trying to answer. Poor kid, but not really a kid any more. she grieves like a widow. 13. Only Romeo killed by the devil and Juliet left to mourn

Remembering, remembering...

Sounds outside the house, people out there laughing. Then...nothing. Mani said, no, but I went out to look. That big X on the house. The signature on our death warrants. I told Mani. He told the others. Don started singing:

We are the champions, my friend
and we'll keep on fighting till the end
We are the champions
we are the champions,
No time for losers, cause we are the champions

OF THE WORLD!!!

Mani: BOLE SO NIHAL

US: SAT SRI AKAAL....How many times, I don't know

Then Mohan jumped up and SCREAMED: STOP IT!! ARE YOU ALL INSANE? THEY'RE GOING TO KILL US!!

Mani grabbed him by the throat. 'We're not insane. We're Sikhs, Lions, What the hell are you!' And threw him on the ground.

That was when Sandeep said, 'They're really gonna kill us. Then me and Bilbar need to take Amrit.'

More later. I need to stop here. I still hear his voice. So determined and controlled. What could we ever have done to deserve such child?


And we'll go on
............................and on
.........................................and on

Cause we are the champions...(Choke)

Posted by Mai at 9:55 PM 0 comments Links to this post

Labels: 12 December 1984

13 DECEMBER 1984

Suni gets up and leaves when I talk to Laura. But she comes back. Her eyes are so deep in her head now, dark circles. Mine two. We both look like we've been dragged through hell by the hair. I guess we have. hahahahahahaha

She won't let go of Hope. I'm strong enough now to hold her. She likes me. I wish I could help Suni nurse her. Suni is so thin and drawn and I'm afraid her milk will dry up. But she forces herself to eat because of nursing the baby.

Every day Suni takes her over to the nihang. He smiles and touches her forehead with his kara.

Suni cries a lot. She tries not to cry, but she can't help it. I can't cry. I wish I could. Lilly is so quiet. I told her I cut that fucking Hindu's throat and I enjoyed it. Good ol Lilly. She took my sword hand in both of hers and kissed it. Can a Jain kiss the hand of a killer? I mean, is she supposed to...Maybe they'd kick her out or something.

I asked her what she'da done. She shook her head and said, I don't know. I know what I should do, but I don't know, if someone killed one of my kids how I'd react. And Raj. But he'd kill, I know he would.

I don't like Raj. I will NEVER like that [religious slur and expletive deleted] kshatriya [expletive deleted] . What Lilly sees in him...

MANI, COME BACK, PLEASE COME

BACK... I CAN'T EVEN

DREAM ABOUT YOU. I CAN'T CRY

... WHAT [expletive deleted] WRONG WITH ME?

Labels: 13 December 1984

15 DECEMBER 1984

Poor, dear little Laura. Focus on the living. My would-have-been-daughter. Laura, dear, go back to Kansas. Forget about us. Forget your ever knew us. Go home and be a Kansas farmgirl. Find some nice Kansas farm boy to marry. Just go back to the way you were. She looks at me with those huge, blood-shot eyes.

'Mata Ji. I can't.' Then she quotes.'"A mind, once expanded, can never return to its original dimensions." I can't go back. I am what I am, I can't be what I was, or what I would have been.' Soft, soft voice. Old far beyond her years. How will she be scarred by all this?

It is easier to focus on her, get that image of Sandeep lying there with his head at that weird angle. But a peaceful face. That still strikes me, how peaceful the faces of our men were. Our dead men. Our new family shaheeds. Just what we need. More family shaheeds. Daddy used to tell stories about family shaheeds and the Moghuls. Did their survivors feel like I, we do? Too many questions. I look over toward the corner. The nihang is still there. He looks directly at me. His eyes are not hard, cold. They are warm, alive, compassionate, loving. Protective? When I hallucinate, I do it well. My diseased mind has created a suopernatural friend. Superman! It's a bird, it's a plane, no, it's Super Nihang! Fella, yeah, you, you with the blue chola and the sword and the turban, you. Can you fly? And take me with you?

I like having him here. Real or imagined. Sane or mad. I like having him here.

Daddy never talked about family nihangs, though. Maybe he's from another family? Or maybe I just like nihangs. I'll have to ask Suni about that. Right now, it's just me and Francois (asleep, of course) and the usual hospital crap.

16 DECEMBER 1984

Today finally, they let me take a shower. Not easy. I still can't walk because they had to fix my knee and it's not healing very well. That's funny. Alain picked me up and carried me into the shower. They sat me on a chair in there. The nurses got me out of that damned hospital gown and pulled my kechera down to my ankles. Then Suni helped me wash. Lilly and Laura took Hope, but they stayed within sight of Suni. Hope never is out of her sight. I wish I had my Kaurs. Stupid thought. And my Singhs.

We washed and washed and washed me. I didn't realise I felt so dirty. They give me French baths every day. But you need to see the filth wash away. It's not the same when they just wipe it off. And really, really washing my hair and putting some conditioner. Then, I think some jasmine oil. I begin to feel a little more like a woman. A widow. The widow of a shaheed. The mother of a shaheed. At least I feel clean. I want to try to stand, but Suni says no, it might rip out my knee. I suppose she's right.

I am clean now my body is clean and my hair. And a big surprise. They had a silk gown made for me. Beautiful blue. Opens like a hospital gown. But soft and nice against my skin. No lace. Nothing scratchy. Just soft, second skin.

Now I am clean. I try to pray. Just the Mool Mantar, I think. But it won't come. It just won't. I try to Jap naam. Vahiguru. Vahiguru. Vahiguru. I can do that. Softly, though. The nihang mouths the gurmantar with me. He looks very serious.

Vahiguru Vahiguru

ਵਾਹਿਗੁਰੂ ਵਾਹਿਗੁਰੂ

Then it seems all the others join in. I hear Mandeep's bass, Sandeep's new found tenor, Suni and Laura's sopranos and my own unmelodious tones.

And, at last, the tears come. My body shakes and I sob. They all come to hold me, but I wave them away. I hold myself, then look at the nihang. He leaves his place and walks over to my bed. Suni gasps, but no one else sees him. He looks directly in my eyes, smiles and says something. I don't know what. Neither does Suni. I notice he smells of ...roses, of all things. Then he returns to his place.

Details - 4 November 1984

(Cross-posted with sometimes - 2)

Warning, this post does get a little bit graphic.

Suni's story is in blue, Mai's in red.

Someone suggested in an e-mail that we really should include more details of what happened in November 1984 to our family group. I am not sure what that person really meant, but we think it is about the actual fight. We, Mai and Suni, are here together on this anniversary and will make an attempt to tell in more detail, what happened.

We think it was 4 November. Everything had been very quiet all morning. We, of course, were on edge, but had done our prayers and a lot of singing, some kirtan, but mostly popular stuff. About 1:30 PM, we heard a commotion outside and knew that this was it.

Suni: A few minutes before, I saw a party of shaheeds enter the house. There were about quite a few of them, I didn't count, but I think maybe 40 or 45.

Mani shouted, 'Bole so nihal!' We responded and took up our positions. Suni was seated in the big chair, holding Guru Ji. I was on the stairs leading to the second floor balcony. My brothers were to the left and right of the front door. Sandeep, my son, was in the kitchen doorway. Mohan and Balbir, Suni's husband and son, as the least experienced fighters (Suni: totally inexperienced) were upstairs on the balcony. (I had argued with Mani that I should be in Sandeep's position, since I was a strong fighter, but he refused because of my pregnancy.) Mani, as our commander, was across the room, but directly in front of the door.

What none of us had expected was that they entered from the front and back simultaneously. That one came so fast behind Sandeep that I don't think he ever knew he was hit. I saw it, though, and felt the blood rush to my head in an anger and fury indescribable. He went down with the first blow of the iron bar across the back of his neck, his head at that bizarre angle that I'll never forget.

I remember then Mani shouted, 'Guru Gobind Singh! Waheguru!' and lunged forward. I ran from my position toward the bastard that had killed my son, intending to kill him. Something happened, time seemed to stop. Suddenly there was no noise and no one was moving except me and him. I approached him with my kirtan/dagger (it was now a weapon) drawn and ready. He was terrified. If I live forever, I will never see such fear in anyone's eyes again. His eyes were wide open, as was his mouth - although I heard no sound from it - as I slit his throat from ear to ear. I think I nearly decapitated him. Blood spurted out all over me, my face was wet with it. He stared at me for a moment and then fell at my feet, mouth still gaping open, eyes staring wide. I felt a great satisfaction, as I licked the blood from my lips. Is that enough detail for everyone?

This is Suni. When I sat down with Guru Ji, two Singhnis took up positions on either side of me. Both were tall and strong-looking and heavily armed. The one on my right smiled at me and gently patted my stomach. I could eel her hand.

When Mai went toward that [person]. I also saw everything stop and it happened as Mai has described it, but she could not see herself. The person [he] confronted looked nothing like my cousin/sister Mai. She was huge and tall and black. Her eyes were red and she was the very embodiment of the outraged mother. In short she looked like a most terrifying depiction of Ma Kali. I think that is what that person saw that scared him so much. Of course, I do not believe in Ma Kali, but he did and that's what matters. All the shaheeds just stood and watched.

Mai again. Normal time resumed. Mohan and Bilbar were side by side on the main floor, doing their best to strike with drawn swords, but I saw Bilbar get hit in the stomach with an iron bar and drop his sword. I saw my brothers moving, but I couldn't see clearly what was going on. Two [males] had converged on me and I was busy with them. They kept hitting my body, but I was able to protect my head and kept going. I felt no pain. I could not see Mani, at all.

Suni: They never seemed to notice me sitting there Somehow the shaheeds were able to make me invisible to our enemies, I think. I saw my son drop his sword and geddit in the head with one of their bars. My husband foolishly went to his aid and forgot to protect himself. The two fell in a heap together. The Hindus beat them and beat them with their iron bars.

Mai's brothers were expert fighters, but each was fighting off three opponents and fell. Someone picked up their swords and stabbed them over and over in the chest. There was a lot of blood. By this time, the smell became overwhelming. Not just blood, but also urine and feces. I could barely breathe.

Mani was in control of himself. I could see his mouth moving. 'Vaheguru, vaheguru, vaheguru...' He sword was swinging in rhythm to his words. There were just too many of them and eventually he went down. Mai was a fury. She looked like something out of a Chinese martial arts movie. Eventually, though, she went down, too. They beat everyone after they were down, over and over, with their bars until all of them were bloody all over. I am sure many bones were broken, too. I could tell when someone died because shaheeds would gather around that person, I think to act as an escort and honour guard. I knew that Mani and Mai were still alive, but all the others were dead.

When they finished beating the bodies, for some reason, they left. I'm not sure why. I just sat and clutched Guru Ji. My two lady shaheeds were still with me, so I knew it wasn't over.

We have already described how Mai regained consciousness and got to Mani and their talk, his death and then cleaning the faces. We are not going to retell that now.

Eventually, the mob returned with cans of petrol. They looted the house, then drenched all the bodies with the petrol. Just at that moment, by Guru's grace, a loud voice shouted 'Naamaste!' They stopped dead in their tracks. It was our neighbours, the brahmins. They ordered the mob out and came and rescued me. I knew Mai was still alive and they carried her, bleeding profusely - she was in premature labour by that time, in addition to her other injuries - to their house. The shaheeds followed her and, I think also acted as an escort to her two daughters.

They wanted to relieve me of the burden of carrying Guru Ji, but I wouldn't surrender him to them for anything. As we left the house, the mob, waiting impatiently outside, entered and torched the house. I really didn't know that brahmins had that much power still, but the mob was willing to let us two live. I don't think they ever knew that Mai was a woman.

Picture: We do not know who these women are, just our sisters, survivors like ourselves.

IN MEMORY, 2007

WAHEGURU JI KA KHALSA
WAHEGURU JI KI FATEH

IN LOVING AND GRATEFUL MEMORY

FROM YOUR KHALSA SISTERS
VINI AND SUNI AND MAI

on the 22nd 23rd anniversary of your Shaheedi

the Second Battle of Delhi,
31 October- 4 November, 1984

TO OUR KHALSA BROTHERS

SHAHEED BERTRAM K. SINGH
SHAHEED BALBIR SINGH
SHAHEED EDUARD P. SINGH
SHAHEED MANDEEP SINGH KHALSA
SHAHEED MOHAN SINGH
SHAHEED SANDEEP SINGH

and our two little sisters who died unborn,

BABY KAUR ONE

BABY KAUR TWO

and to all the thousands of our other brothers and sisters who died in this battle/pogrom/massacre.

YOU WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN

WAHEGURU JI KA KHALSA
WAHEGURU JI KI FATEH

OUR SEARCH FOR JUSTICE CONTINUES UNABATED.

KHALISTAN ZINDABAD!!

AMU on DVD

AMU has been released on DVD. For more information, and to purchase, go here.

My Journal - Part Two : 4 December - 10 December 1984

Click here to read the whole unexpurgated journal.


First, please read Part One



Now, is every Sikh trying to be kind to every other Sikh? It has been pointed out to us that some nonSikhs also read this blog. What about them? Well, they can be kind to us, too, lol? Since the whole point is to be kind to our own family, we would urge our cousins to be kind to the members of whatever groop they most closely identify with. Of course, the point is to eventually learn just to be kind, period. Except, of course, when kindness really isn't morally possible.



Then, we continue with Mai's journal:

04 DECEMBER 1984

(2007:The writing in this entry is especially hard to read, just a lot of scrawls covering several pages, but I think I have deciphered it correctly.)



Now these [expletive deleted] have decided to punish me! They have pumped me full of their [expletive deleted] drugs till I can't think straight.



I took H-T, yelled bole so nihal and cut both my arms and dripped blood all over everything. The point being to wash away that [religious slur deleted]blood with some good strong Sikh blood. Lilly screamed, Suni screamed, Hope cried (scwaaaw), Al jumped, but to his credit, didn't scream. Only our nihang seemed to understand and responded Sat sri akal! They immediately grabbed H-T and dumped dope into my IV. OH,[expletive deleted]

Then Al leans over me and speaks in his best 'understanding psychiatrist' voice, 'darling, why do you want to hurt yourself? Were you trying to commit suicide?''



They understand nothing. I didn't want to hurt myself. If I had wanted to die, I would have cut my jugular vein; I'm not an idiot. A fool, maybe, but not an idiot. All I wanted to do was clean the blade of a noble weapon from the [expletive deleted] bloody, vile pollution on it.



(In different handwriting, very neat and precise: This is Al. Forgive me for reading this, but we are all so worried about you. You just screamed,' Bole so nihal!' and slashed both arms so quickly. We thought maybe you were having a back flash. No one is punishing you, but I think you need a little sedation right now. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry, but this is my judgement call. For the time being, I have given you a blunt kirpan. I know you'll scream and holler and be angry, but I don't want to take any chances you right now, dear sister. You may not realise it, but you are emotionally unbalanced at present and need our protection.

If you are still talking to me, please tell me more about this nihang that you and Suni see and is invisible to the rest of us.)



(2007: For anyone who doesn't know, here is an explanation of the Panjabi: http://www.sikh.net/SIKHISM/Boleso.htm )

08 DECEMBER 1984

I convinced Al to take me off all the drugs, not the antibiotic-type stuff, but the druggy-feeling-type drugs. Oh, yeah, the intoxicants. My head actually feels pretty clear.

Al, the nihang has nothing to do with you. Keep your damned psychiatrist brain out of his existence. He is for me and Suni and Hope. He doesn't care about your cowardly self.

Charles keeps asking me, 'How do you feel?'

Oh, brother, I feel just great. When do we start up Mt. Everest?
OK, an inventory.

1. Every muscle feels like it was run over by a Mack truck.
   
2. My right knee has a knife stuck in it.
   
3. My eyes are on fire.
   
4. My head is in a very tight vise.
   
5. Every time I shut my eyes I see my dead husband, son, brother, brother, brother, nephew.
   
6. I can't get the smell of [expletives deleted] blood out of my nostrils.
   
7. Food all tastes like puke and I throw it up.
   
8. And I hear voices screaming for my death in a language I can't understand.

Enough? Enough. And all I can do is lie here.

Suni and I are writing a pact about what we're gonna do next. It all means we're Sikhs and those bastards can't change us into anything less. Other than that I don't know who we are any more.

MANI, COME BACK, YOUR WIFE NEEDS YOU AND BRING SANDEEP AND OUR TWIN KAURS WITH YOU.

Notice I'm off drugs, no bad language.

10 DECEMBER 1984

The drugs have worked their way out of my system, I think. I am feeling more like myself, whoever that is now.

The Pedersens are here. Tom and Sally are grim. Laura looks ghostly (2007:or ghastly, I can't tell which I wrote).

She has hair past her butt and is wearing a kara. A gift from Sandeep, no doubt. I told her 'Take it off, he's dead!' She stared blankly for a moment and then said, 'No, I'll never take it off.' How far had these kids gone while we adults noticed nothing.

I looked at Tom and Sally. He said that Laura has always known her own mind and made her own decisions.

But she just kept crying. Sally and Tom were crying. Al and Charles and Frank and Robert were crying. Suni and Hope were crying. Only Mai and the nihang weren't crying. Nihangs don't cry, but what the hell is wrong with me?
[Religiou slur deleted] We were prepared to sacrifice our lives if need be, but how could they do this to an innocent little Kansas farm girl? Who should have been my daughter-in-law.

MANIMANIMANIMANIMANIMANIMANI

SHAHEEDS

The heroes of 1984

PRECIOUS DOG FOOD

Was nothing too low to do against us?

BURNT ALIVE

Look at our brother and NEVER FORGET

ANOTHER IMAGE FROM TRILOKPURI

FREE BURMA NOW DAMMIT!!!