We Will Never Forget

For a couple of years, I have been thinking about this twenty-fifth anniversary of the carnage of 1984. I have been fervently hoping that the Sikh community would wake up the world about the atrocities of that year in India, in fact the atrocities that seem to be a part of everyday life in that country, that legal fiction doomed ultimately to failure. I have been hoping we could awaken the masses of oppressed people especially in India and stir them to action. I have been looking forward to the chance of using this year as a springboard to accomplishment, a big step toward the establishment of our homeland from the rubble of what was India.

And I still am.

Imagine what we could accomplish if the various oppressed groups who cope with discrimination on a daily basis - the Dalits, the Tribals, the Christians, the Muslims, the Hindu Widows...I could go on and on...and, of course us Sikhs - imagine that we all worked together to end the injustices meted out to us by the corrupt Republic of India. It almost boggles the mind. India will disintegrate one day. The only question is, how will Bharata Mata fall? Will it be peaceful, as in the old Soviet Union, or will it be by horrible bloodshed as it was at the time of Partition when the Raj was divided and our Punjab was torn into two bloody pieces? Time will tell.

What I had not anticipated was the emotional toll that reliving, on a daily basis, the horrors of that time would have on me. Those events are so much a part of me, with me 24/7/365 that it is rather like being a woman; I am a woman, of course, it's always there, always a part of who I am, but I don't sit thinking about it all the time. I don't relive the oppression wrought upon my sisters throughout the ages, the oppression that continues even now, in both obvious and subtle ways. In the same way, I generally don't sit and relive all that happened. It's just there. Now, however, it has become very immediate to me. Looking at the old pictures, the candidacies of Tytler and Sajjan Kumar, remaking the pictures of the burnt Akal Takht, over and over, is taking its toll on me. I hope it doesn't show too much. And I most fervently hope that it will prove worth the effort and pain involved. I have great faith that the efforts of all of us survivors who have taken this burden on ourselves will be richly rewarded.

And now, yet another petition, an important one from the good folks at the 1984 Accountability Project. This one calls for a full international investigation into the role of that rascal rajiv gandhi as well as the culpability of the congress party in the slaughter of Sikhs in November 1984. If you care about the sacrifices of our shaheeds at that time, as well as the well-being of us survivors, please take a minute to sign this petition.

SOLIDARITY FOREVER!

http://www.nov1984.org/

The November 1984 Accountability Project seeks to obtain justice for the thousands of innocent Sikhs who were murdered, tortured, raped, beaten, and burnt alive during the massacres in Delhi and throughout India in November, 1984. During this carnage, Sikhs were burnt alive with petroleum in the streets, women were gang raped, some by police, and infants were put to death. To date, the people responsible for organizing this carnage are yet to be brought to justice.

We seek and an independent international inquiry into former Indian Prime Minister, Rajiv Gandhi's and the Congress party's role in planning, organizing and executing the November 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms in New Delhi, India and the immediate removal of Rajiv Gandhi's name from all public monuments, airports, roads, stadia, parks, sports awards, and professorships.

Join the quest for justice. Sign the petition http://www.nov1984.org/petition/#Signdemanding justice for the victims of the 1984 pogroms.
November 1984 Accountability Petition Demands

• An independent international inquiry into Rajiv Gandhi's and the Congress party's role in planning, organizing and executing the November 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms in New Delhi, India and
• The immediate removal of the name of former Indian Prime Minister, Rajiv Gandhi, from all public monuments, airports, roads, stadia, parks, sports awards, and professorships.
  

"The blackened, stiff corpses lay against the walls… with their eyes open. The burn victims were Sikhs, identifiable only by the steel bracelets worn on their wrists."
(Washington Post, Nov. 3, 1984)

"Like being a Jew in Czarist Russia or Nazi Germany" Violence makes Sikhs fear for their future in India."
(New York Times, Nov. 11, 1984)

"When the history is written of the horrors that followed the assassination of Indira Gandhi, the 32nd block of Trilokpuri Colony will be remembered as a place where civilization disintegrated."
(LA Times, Nov. 6, 1984)

******************************

Petition

To: Justice Navanetham Pillay, UN High Commissioner for Human Rights
Cc: Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, India
Cc: President Barack Obama, United States of America
Cc: President Hans-Gert Pöttering, European Parliament
Cc: Louis Moreno-Ocampo, Prosecutor, International Criminal Court

Respected Justice Pillay,

We, the undersigned, call for

An independent international inquiry into Rajiv Gandhi's and the Congress party's role in planning, organizing and executing the November 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms in New Delhi, India

and the immediate removal of the name of former Indian Prime Minister, Rajiv Gandhi, from all public monuments, airports, roads, stadia, parks, sports awards, and professorships.

By conservative estimates, 4000 Sikhs were killed in the first week of November 1984 on the streets of India's capital. Organized armed groups, equipped with lists of Sikh households, overtook the city, as a curfew was imposed, and law enforcement was either absent or facilitated the atrocities.

These organized massacres followed the assassination of Rajiv's mother, the Indian Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, by two Sikh bodyguards, who were avenging the attacks against Sikh shrines in June, 1984. On June 4, 1984, a major Sikh religious holiday, Indira Gandhi had ordered Indian troops to storm the holiest of the Sikh gurdwaras, Darbar Sahib, and 31 other gurdwaras, resulting in the brutal deaths of thousands of innocent pilgrims.

Rajiv had been sworn-in as the new Prime Minister immediately after the assassination, and very soon thereafter, the carnage against Sikhs ensued. For four days following this, Sikhs were killed with complete impunity in New Delhi under express orders from many prominent politicians such as H.K.L. Bhagat, Sajjan Kumar, and Jagdish Tytler – of Rajiv's political party.

In the April 26^th, 2009 edition of the Indian Express, an eye-witness quotes Tytler as telling a crowd, "I had assured you that you kill Sikhs and nothing will happen to you. I had given a promise to the Centre. Despite this, by killing least number of Sikhs, you have lowered my prestige." This on-the-spot involvement of high ranking party members, and inaction and worse on the part of the police, complete with names of perpetrators in many cases, was first documented by a group of human rights activists (all non-Sikh) in the report, "Who Are the Guilty?," within a month of this massacre.

Shortly afterwards, Rajiv commented at a rally, "But, when a mighty tree falls, it is only natural that the earth around it does shake a little." Not only that, Rajiv promoted politician Bhagat to the rank of cabinet minister, and rewarded Tytler with an appointment as minister of state. The assiduous efforts made ever since then by the Indian state to shield the guilty of 1984 are now fully documented in the book, "When a Tree Shook Delhi," by Manoj Mitta and H. S. Phoolka. We submit that such an extensive and intensive cover-up, which still continues as the Indian Express article of April 26, 2009 cited above clearly shows, would have been impossible to initiate, and sustain for so long, unless Rajiv was deeply implicated in these mass murders from the very beginning.

International criminal law recognizes the primacy of holding the one with the maximum responsibility most guilty in order to break cycles of impunity. "Command responsibility" holds a superior legally responsible for human rights violations by subordinates if the official knew or should have known about these violations but failed to prevent them or punish those who committed them.

We therefore call for an inquiry into Rajiv Gandhi and the Congress party's responsibility for the November 1984 massacres. The dozen odd kangaroo courts and commissions set up by the Indian government over the past 25 years have served to do nothing more than insult the intelligence of the Sikh community in general, and the surviving relatives of the victims in particular, who still continue to suffer due to the carnage that was unleashed on the streets of Delhi. This partisan record of Indian courts and the inaction by the government in the past 25 years necessitates that such an inquiry be held by an international body, one that is acceptable to Sikhs world-wide.

We also call for the immediate removal of Rajiv Gandhi's name from all buildings, awards, monuments, etc. This rampant and tasteless glorification of a very doubtful political character is a constant daily re-victimization of the Sikhs, and a reminder to them of the justice that has almost totally eluded them so far.

That "history repeats itself" couldn't be more true than in the parallel between the Sikh massacres of 1984 under the Congress party leadership and the Muslim massacres of 2002 under the Bhartiya Janta Party leadership. Narendra Modi should similarly be indicted and tried for his instigation and planning of ostensible pogroms that left thousands of Muslims dead. We call for justice to all, regardless of which Indian party is in control, and regardless of the faith or class of the victims.

Rajiv Gandhi's heirs are deluding themselves if they think that they can make the Sikhs forget the facts about 1984. At the very least, they should have desisted from naming even small-town parks in the Punjab after him. Unless their objective in so doing was not to let the Sikhs forget 1984? For, they are only succeeding in constantly reminding the Sikhs of their humiliation, by confronting them, day in and day out, with the name, and often the picture, of the person whom the Sikhs hold the most culpable.

W3I: SUITABLE FOR VEGETARIANS?

I did not write this article; I wish I had. It's interesting to see what the RSS is up to when not causing mischief for us Sikhs. I'm not sure if this is funny or just plain gross.

From Times On Line:

INDIA TO LAUNCH COW URINE AS SOFT DRINK

Does your Pepsi lack pep? Is your Coke not the real thing? India's Hindu nationalist movement apparently has the answer: a new soft drink made from cow urine.

The bovine brew is in the final stages of development by the Cow Protection Department of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), India's biggest and oldest Hindu nationalist group, according to the man who makes it.

Om Prakash, the head of the department, said the drink – called "gau jal", or "cow water" – in Sanskrit was undergoing laboratory tests and would be launched "very soon, maybe by the end of this year".

"Don't worry, it won't smell like urine and will be tasty too," he told The Times from his headquarters in Hardwar, one of four holy cities on the River Ganges. "Its USP will be that it's going to be very healthy. It won't be like carbonated drinks and would be devoid of any toxins."

Related Links

• Pink knicker protest against radical Hindus


• Hindu extremists offer rewards to kill Christians

The drink is the latest attempt by the RSS – which was founded in 1925 and now claims eight million members – to cleanse India of foreign influence and promote its ideology of Hindutva, or Hindu-ness.

Hindus revere cows and slaughtering them is illegal in most of India. Cow dung is traditionally used as a fuel and disinfectant in villages, while cow urine and dung are often consumed in rituals to "purify" those on the bottom rungs of the Hindu caste system.

In 2001, the RSS and its offshoots – which include the opposition Bharatiya Janata Party – began promoting cow urine as a cure for ailments ranging from liver disease to obesity and even cancer.

The movement has often been accused of using more violent methods, such as killing 67 Christians in the eastern state of Orissa last year, and assaulting women in a pub in Mangalore last month. It also has a history of targeting foreign business in India, as in 1994, when it organised a nationwide boycott of multinational consumer goods, including Pepsi and Coca Cola.

The cola brands are popular in India, now one of their biggest markets, but have struggled in recent years to shake off allegations, which they deny, that they contain dangerous levels of pesticide.

Mr Prakash said his drink, by contrast, was made mainly of cow urine, mixed with a few medicinal and ayurvedic herbs. He said it would be "cheap", but declined to give further details about its price or ingredients until it was officially launched.

He insisted, however, that it would be able to compete with the American cola brands, even with their enormous advertising budgets. "We're going to give them good competition as our drink is good for mankind," he said. "We may also think of exporting it."

W3I :JUST FOR LAUGHS

WARNING: Any Bharata Mata (BM) Lover, should probably skip this post and go do something else.

Most of my W3I (What's Wrong With India?) posts are dead serious. This one is a little more light-hearted.
In my exploration of all sorts of things on the Internet, I came across the preamble to the Constitution of India.

I read it. Then I read it again. Liberte, equalite, fraternite. It seems to have borrowed something from the French. As I am 3/8 French, I appreciate that. As for India being a secular state, I have decided to modify the flag of the Republic of India to show her true "secularism."

THE CONSTITUTION OF INDIA

PREAMBLE

WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a SOVEREIGN SOCIALIST SECULAR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC and to secure to all its citizens:

JUSTICE, social, economic and political;
LIBERTY of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship;
EQUALITY of status and of opportunity; and to promote among them all

FRATERNITY assuring the dignity of the individual and the unity and integrity of the Nation;

IN OUR CONSTITUENT ASSEMBLY this twenty-sixth day of
November, 1949, do HEREBY ADOPT, ENACT AND GIVE TO
OURSELVES THIS CONSTITUTION.

W3I: Burnt Alive! Izzat Is A Dirty Word

Evidentally not only Sikhs in Delhi - and elsewhere - Muslims in Gujarat and Christians in Orissa, but also young girls who may have been misbehaving need to be taught a lesson by being burnt alive, while the police stand by and do nothing. I have always been appalled by so-called "honour killings" (See the box on the sidebar). It seems that if the girls happen to be members of a "scheduled caste," it is simply the thing to do when young girls exchange Diwali greetings with young boys.

To read more about Indian violence against Dalits, etc., please go to Atrocity News.

The article:.

2 Indian girls burnt alive for visiting boys on Diwali

CLOSE [X] BHIWANI: As Kaluvas, a village just three km from Bhiwani in Haryana, celebrated Diwali, the festive smiles amid the din of firecrackers and ritual
exchange of sweets may just have hidden a horror no one has till now either dared or wanted to speak about.

Almost 13 days after the incident, it now transpires that Rajender Shivran, who claims he couldn’t sleep under the weight of the unspeakable crime, had on November 1 given a written complaint to the Bhiwani SP’s office saying two teenaged girls of the Dhanak community were ‘‘attacked by machetes and axes and stones as soon as they got down from a car on Diwali night (October 28).

The villagers had waited for them after getting wind of their movements. They were unconscious, but alive, when some of the men brought out jars of kerosene and set them on fire.’’

The complaint, a copy of which TOI has retrieved, was quite shockingly dismissed by the police who have not acted on it even two weeks after the girls were butchered and burned. More surprisingly, Bhiwani superintendent of police Sanjay Kumer said he hadn’t received any ‘‘written or verbal complaint’’ though Shivran went with his petition right to the SP office.

Shivran, who had sent copies of the complaint to the National Human Rights Commission and the National Commission for Women, DIG and DGP of Haryana, goes on to say in his chilling report that the two girls, whose fathers have been named, were waiting for them to come back after they went to some boys’ house to wish them on Diwali. The enraged family members even chased the car that dropped them home but couldn’t lay their hands on it.

‘‘The girls were alive when someone started pouring kerosene over their bodies. They were then dumped in the cremation ground,’’ the complaint goes on to say. ‘‘Everyone knows about it but is keeping quiet as most are in it together and those who dare to speak about it have been threatened with dire consequences.’’

Sources told TOI that though the Bhiwani police had received the complaint on the same day it was filed and even marked it for verification of facts with a rider to ‘‘report within three days’’, no attempt was made to investigate or even visit Kaluvas. Sanjay Kumar, however, said he has marked an inquiry into the allegations and police teams have been sent to Kaluvas to check out the facts.

But Kaluvas, the village India came to know after local boy Vijender Singh won a boxing bronze in Beijing, is keeping mum about what exactly happened that Diwali night.

The entire village had watched as two young girls were assaulted with sticks and axes, hauled to the cremation ground half-dead and set on fire by their family for the sake of “honour” on Diwali.

The girls had returned from an outing late in the evening, escorted by unidentified men.

The incident had cast a smear on the glory won for Kaluwas in Bhiwani by pugilist Vijender Kumar.

But, in an even more damning evidence of the system’s casual acceptance of the scheduled caste family's act, not even an FIR has been registered in the October 28 incident to date.

Rajender Shivran, a Kaluwas resident, had brought the matter to the notice of the district police in writing on October 30. Copies were sent out to the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), SP, Bhiwani and the National Commission for Women (NCW).

The complaint was formally shown received in the SP's office on November 1 and marked by police officials concerned to SHO, Bhiwani Sadar Police Station, for verification of facts. He was asked to submit a report within three days.

Bhiwani Superintendent of Police, Sanjay Kumar, when confronted by Hindustan Times on Monday, claimed that no written or verbal complaint with regard to the matter had been brought to his notice so far.

“However, I have ordered an inquiry based on a news report published today in a Hindi daily,” Kumar hastened to add.

At Kaluwas, meanwhile, villagers are guarded and vigilant against outsiders, allegedly for fear that word may spread.


http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/India/Two_girls_burnt_alive_for_meeting_boys/articleshow/3697230.cms Less..

...OF KHALSA AND SAMURAI

OF KHALSA AND SAMURAI

A few weeks ago, we visited the San Francisco Bay Area, courtesy of one of my husband's nephews. I was the first time I have been to San Francisco, Mani's favourite American city, since the events of 1984. Such memories, it brought back! I can't really share these with anyone here, so I'm sharing them with you, my online friends.

San Francisco

One year, I think it was 1978, but I'm not sure, we decided to celebrate our anniversary/my birthday by taking a holiday in San Francisco. Very unusual for us, we decided to leave Sandeep in the safe hands of the family and set off for nine days and eight nights in The City By The Bay. Family had our hotel number, of course, along with a promise not to phone unless it was a life-altering emergency. No such emergency occurred and we had a wonderful time. OK, I'll fess up. We called home each evening to say hi to our Sikhling.

One of the few things Mani and I could never agree about was our manner of dress. His appearance was very important to him. His clothes were always perfect, his turban beautifully tied, shoes, when he wore them, perfectly shined. He even ironed his jeans! (I refused to do that because I thought it was stupid.) I, on the other hand, insisted only that my clothes be neat and clean and cover me decently. And be comfortable. They must be comfortable. Beyond that, I really didn't much care what I looked like. We did agree on a few important points. No high heels, no dresses, no make-up.


On the farm, my appearance didn't matter all that much. He expected me to be a bit messed up, mucking around with the cows and goats and chickens (kept for fertiliser) and also with our various crops. I usually indulged him in the evenings by showering or lounging in the Jacuzzi for a while and then putting on a Punjabi suit, a salwar kameez. He usually lounged around evenings in kurta pajama. We might not have been a Punjabi couple, but except for his grey eyes and my brown hair and pasty skin, we certainly looked like one.

For our trip to San Francisco, we reached a compromise. During the day, while we were walking, hiking, goofing off, I would wear jeans - ironed by him! - and something colourful and attractive on my top. This was necessary because walking shoes look really stupid with dressy clothes. When we went out in the evenings, I would dress to the nines, looking every inch the proper lady, while he also dressed up - in full bana! He looked really cool in bana - what Sikh doesn't? - and he looked somehow silly in a suit.

Sardar Sarbjeet Singh Ji

 

We quickly found out that many fine San Francisco restaurants had a dress code that men had to wear jacket and tie. We avoided those. As Mani said, "They probably don't have decent vegetarian food anyway. We had a glorious time, walking from the Embarcadero to the Pacific Ocean - one side of San Francisco to the other, rambling through Golden Gate Park, exploring those strange, little neighbourhood shops that San Francisco seems to be full of. We spent a whole day at Fisherman's Wharf, watching the tourists shiver. Most people don't realise that San Francisco is quite cool most of the time, and so dress inappropriately for the weather. We also went hiking in the Muir Woods amidst the giant redwoods and hiking up Mt. Tamalpais across the Golden Gate Bridge in Marin County.


I really want to write about one particular afternoon and evening. We decided to go see a Toshiro Mifune movie playing in a theatre in Japan Town.

Toshiro Mifune

Japan Town, San Francisco

Mani gave me those cow eyes and asked me to dress up, even though it was only afternoon. I said it was too early, if I had to dress up I'd wear bana, too. He grinned at me and agreed. We ended up dressed exactly alike except he had a saffron turban, while I used a chunni. (We should have tied a turban on me, I now realise, but for some reason, we didn't think of it.) And, unlike him, I carried the more usual short kirpan. I admit we made a grand-looking couple, him in a dark blue chola, saffron-coloured gatra containing a full-length kirpan, and, of course, his perfectly tied turban, me similarly clad. Him tall and towering and masculine, the perfect Khalsa warrior, me short and slender, yet with the full figure of a fertility goddess, also the perfect Khalsa warrior, except in a battle, I'd have to ditch the chunni. As he said, "We look goooooood!"

We arrived for the afternoon matinee and, much to our surprise, there were only a very few others attending. I guess weekday afternoons don't bring out the samurai crowd. A very lovely Japanese lady, clad in traditional kimono, not only sold us tickets, but also tended the refreshments counter and acted less like an usher than like a hostess. When we first came in, she looked at Mani shyly, but still with open curiosity and perhaps a bit of apprehension. She was even shorter than I am; he must have seemed a giant to her. "Sir, "she asked in a heavily accented voice, with that high, squeaky voice that Japanese women traditionally affect, "may I ask you a question?" She waited for him to answer, which he did in the affirmative.

Our lady was really quite a few years older

I just knew she was going to ask if he were an Arab, but she surprised me. "I see you have a katana, a sword. Are you some sort of a samurai among your people?"  In spite of the accent, her English was excellent.



We were both startled at that question; I was very curious how he would answer. "We are Sikhs who have been initiated into the Khalsa Knighthood, so I suppose you could consider us a sort of samurai." He went on to explain a bit about Sikhi, which she had never heard of. When he finished, she was grinning broadly, obviously happily impressed.
Then she turned to me and said, "Great lady, you are also this Khalsa?"

Great lady! I could live with that. I smiled at her and replied, 

"Yes."

Her smile faded briefly as she asked, "Then why do you have such a small sword?" I didn't really have a good answer, so, on the spur of the moment, I came up with the explanation that I was so short that it would drag the ground., Actually, that is close to the truth. The answer seemed to satisfy her and her smile returned. She also wanted to see them both unsheathed; we were happy to oblige.

Shastars

She was obviously impressed and asked if there was anything she could do to make us comfortable. She clearly wanted to do something, so one of us suggested that some Japanese tea would be nice. I mentioned that we were visiting San Francisco to celebrate our wedding anniversary as well as my birthday. She brightened up immediately. "Then you must have long noodles for long life to celebrate." He explained that we were vegetarians and ate only "Buddhist food." (We had learned that was the easiest way to get correct food in what used to be called Oriental restaurants.)

"No meat. No egg. Tofu is OK?" She asked."

A bit taken aback, we agreed.
"I be right back. You go sit down, enjoy watching the people stab each other." She disappeared into a back room and we went into the theatre and watched "the people stab each other."

After a time, she returned with a large tray of not only with tea and noodles (in miso soup), but also a sumptuous feast of vegetarian sushi, inari sushi, norimaki with vegetable and tofu filling, and small mounds of vinegared rice with various thinly sliced vegetables on top where normally there would be raw fish. And lots of wasabi, ginger and shoyu.

Vegetarian sushi

We were both overwhelmed. She ignored our reaction and arranged one tray on the seat to Mani's left and another to my right, dividing the food between us. "Now eat and enjoy while you watch movie." She smiled, bowed and walked away. What could we do? We ate and enjoyed and watched the movie. And wondered what was going on. After the movie, we found out, while eating some vegetable tempura that she brought in.


"I am Shinto," she told us. "I worship Amaterasu-no-Kami, the Sun Goddess, our foremother.

Amaterasu-no-Kami

"Last night, she sent me a dream that I would meet some great warriors, not Japanese, but worthy to be samurai. I saw you and knew she had blessed me with your holy presence, so I could have the honour of serving you. I am descended from a very old samurai family that was impoverished when the samurai class was outlawed. They took all our swords and melted them down. You know, all our women were also taught martial arts and sword fighting, so we could protect our homes and our honour, if need be. Without our swords, what could we be?"

Samurai swords

She was clearly speaking from deep in her heart, speaking as if these things happened recently, instead of in the previous century. I wanted to see your kirpans" - she stumbled over the word - "so I could honour my ancestors." We didn't quite understand that last statement and didn't ask. Somehow asking seemed cold. "There is one more thing, please." She pulled out a small book wrapped in a silk cloth and handed it to me. (Why not him? I do not know.) This is the Bushido Book, The Code of the Warrior. I think you do not know Japanese, but please accept it as my gift." We were quite overwhelmed. The book was obviously quite old, probably a family heirloom. Still, it was unthinkable to refuse it. We took it and kept it always among our few treasured possessions.

A commercial edition of the book she gave us

A most important note: As usual most of these pictures are roached from the Internet, compliments of Google Search. Two are not. That strange-looking being on the Golden Gate Bridge is me, as a giant Nihang. Why not?

That very handsome Sardar Ji I have used to illustrate bana is the father of my little sister Kamal Kaur. His name is Sarbjeet Singh Ji and he, like my own Dad, is a Canadian from Punjabi. Notice the twinkle in his eyes and that lovely smile.

Sarbjeet Singh Ji

My medical caretaker,Irene pointed out to me that if he is my sister's father, then he must also be my Dad. An interesting idea, as I believe he is somewhat younger than my 57 years! My thanks to these two for letting me use this picture. 


One further note about Kamal Ji. You might have noticed her listed as an author, although she has never contributed a post. This is for a very special reason. For some time, she has been downloading and saving each post's html on her computer. Anything can happen on the Internet. This site could be hacked, Blogger could decide to delete it for some reason, new laws in America might restrict the freedom of speech and/or the press. If this blog should, for any reason disappear from the blogosphere, dear Kamal Ji will have preserved it, so it will not be destroyed. Of course, I also download it to my computer, but my poor old compy isn't very reliable and if something should happen to me, it might sit forever here with no one the wiser. So she is performing a great sewa, in my opinion. This will probably embarrass her, but, little sister, I want to thank you from my heart for doing this.

 

***********************************************************************************

A few weeks ago, we visited the San Francisco Bay Area, courtesy of one of my husband's nephews. I was the first time I have been to San Francisco, Mani's favourite American city, since the events of 1984. Such memories, it brought back! I can't really share these with anyone here, so I'm sharing them with you, my online friends.

Shastars

San Francisco

One year, I think it was 1978, but I'm not sure, we decided to celebrate our anniversary/my birthday by taking a holiday in San Francisco. Very unusual for us, we decided to leave Sandeep in the safe hands of the family and set off for nine days and eight nights in The City By The Bay. Family had our hotel number, of course, along with a promise not to phone unless it was a life-altering emergency. No such emergency occurred and we had a wonderful time. OK, I'll fess up. We called home each evening to say hi to our Sikhling.

One of the few things Mani and I could never agree about was our manner of dress. His appearance was very important to him. His clothes were always perfect, his turban beautifully tied, shoes, when he wore them, perfectly shined. He even ironed his jeans! (I refused to do that because I thought it was stupid.) I, on the other hand, insisted only that my clothes be neat and clean and cover me decently. And be comfortable. They must be comfortable. Beyond that, I really didn't much care what I looked like. We did agree on a few important points. No high heels, no dresses, no make-up.


On the farm, my appearance didn't matter all that much. He expected me to be a bit messed up, mucking around with the cows and goats and chickens (kept for fertiliser) and also with our various crops. I usually indulged him in the evenings by showering or lounging in the Jacuzzi for a while and then putting on a Punjabi suit, a salwar kameez. He usually lounged around evenings in kurta pajama. We might not have been a Punjabi couple, but except for his grey eyes and my brown hair and pasty skin, we certainly looked like one.

For our trip to San Francisco, we reached a compromise. During the day, while we were walking, hiking, goofing off, I would wear jeans - ironed by him! - and something colourful and attractive on my top. This was necessary because walking shoes look really stupid with dressy clothes. When we went out in the evenings, I would dress to the nines, looking every inch the proper lady, while he also dressed up - in full bana! He looked really cool in bana - what Sikh doesn't? - and he looked somehow silly in a suit.

We quickly found out that many fine San Francisco restaurants had a dress code that men had to wear jacket and tie. We avoided those. As Mani said, "They probably don't have decent vegetarian food anyway. We had a glorious time, walking from the Embarcadero to the Pacific Ocean - one side of San Francisco to the other, rambling through Golden Gate Park, exploring those strange, little neighbourhood shops that San Francisco seems to be full of. We spent a whole day at Fisherman's Wharf, watching the tourists shiver. Most people don't realise that San Francisco is quite cool most of the time, and so dress inappropriately for the weather. We also went hiking in the Muir Woods amidst the giant redwoods and hiking up Mt. Tamalpais across the Golden Gate Bridge in Marin County.


I really want to write about one particular afternoon and evening. We decided to go see a Toshiro Mifune movie playing in a theatre in Japan Town.

Toshiro Mifune

Japan Town, San Francisco

Mani gave me those cow eyes and asked me to dress up, even though it was only afternoon. I said it was too early, if I had to dress up I'd wear bana, too. He grinned at me and agreed. We ended up dressed exactly alike except he had a saffron turban, while I used a chunni. (We should have tied a turban on me, I now realise, but for some reason, we didn't think of it.) And, unlike him, I carried the more usual short kirpan. I admit we made a grand-looking couple, him in a dark blue chola, saffron-coloured gatra containing a full-length kirpan, and, of course, his perfectly tied turban, me similarly clad. Him tall and towering and masculine, the perfect Khalsa warrior, me short and slender, yet with the full figure of a fertility goddess, also the perfect Khalsa warrior, except in a battle, I'd have to ditch the chunni. As he said, "We look goooooood!"

We arrived for the afternoon matinee and, much to our surprise, there were only a very few others attending. I guess weekday afternoons don't bring out the samurai crowd. A very lovely Japanese lady, clad in traditional kimono, not only sold us tickets, but also tended the refreshments counter and acted less like an usher than like a hostess. When we first came in, she looked at Mani shyly, but still with open curiosity and perhaps a bit of apprehension. She was even shorter than I am; he must have seemed a giant to her. "Sir, "she asked in a heavily accented voice, with that high, squeaky voice that Japanese women traditionally affect, "may I ask you a question?" She waited for him to answer, which he did in the affirmative.

Our lady was really quite a few years older

I just knew she was going to ask if he were an Arab, but she surprised me. "I see you have a katana, a sword. Are you some sort of a samurai among your people?"  In spite of the accent, her English was excellent.



We were both startled at that question; I was very curious how he would answer. "We are Sikhs who have been initiated into the Khalsa Knighthood, so I suppose you could consider us a sort of samurai." He went on to explain a bit about Sikhi, which she had never heard of. When he finished, she was grinning broadly, obviously happily impressed.
Then she turned to me and said, "Great lady, you are also this Khalsa?"

Great lady! I could live with that. I smiled at her and replied, 

"Yes."

Her smile faded briefly as she asked, "Then why do you have such a small sword?" I didn't really have a good answer, so, on the spur of the moment, I came up with the explanation that I was so short that it would drag the ground., Actually, that is close to the truth. The answer seemed to satisfy her and her smile returned. She also wanted to see them both unsheathed; we were happy to oblige.

She was obviously impressed and asked if there was anything she could do to make us comfortable. She clearly wanted to do something, so one of us suggested that some Japanese tea would be nice. I mentioned that we were visiting San Francisco to celebrate our wedding anniversary as well as my birthday. She brightened up immediately. "Then you must have long noodles for long life to celebrate." He explained that we were vegetarians and ate only "Buddhist food." (We had learned that was the easiest way to get correct food in what used to be called Oriental restaurants.)


"No meat. No egg. Tofu is OK?" She asked.

"A bit taken aback, we agreed.

"I be right back. You go sit down, enjoy watching the people stab each other." She disappeared into a back room and we went into the theatre and watched "the people stab each other."

After a time, she returned with a large tray of not only with tea and noodles (in miso soup), but also a sumptuous feast of vegetarian sushi, inari sushi, norimaki with vegetable and tofu filling, and small mounds of vinegared rice with various thinly sliced vegetables on top where normally there would be raw fish. And lots of wasabi, ginger and shoyu.

Vegetarian sushi

We were both overwhelmed. She ignored our reaction and arranged one tray on the seat to Mani's left and another to my right, dividing the food between us. "Now eat and enjoy while you watch movie." She smiled, bowed and walked away. What could we do? We ate and enjoyed and watched the movie. And wondered what was going on. After the movie, we found out, while eating some vegetable tempura that she brought in.


"I am Shinto," she told us. "I worship Amaterasu-no-Kami, the Sun Goddess, our foremother.

Amaterasu-no-Kami

"Last night, she sent me a dream that I would meet some great warriors, not Japanese, but worthy to be samurai. I saw you and knew she had blessed me with your holy presence, so I could have the honour of serving you. I am descended from a very old samurai family that was impoverished when the samurai class was outlawed. They took all our swords and melted them down. You know, all our women were also taught martial arts and sword fighting, so we could protect our homes and our honour, if need be. Without our swords, what could we be?"

Samurai swords

She was clearly speaking from deep in her heart, speaking as if these things happened recently, instead of in the previous century. I wanted to see your kirpans" - she stumbled over the word - "so I could honour my ancestors." We didn't quite understand that last statement and didn't ask. Somehow asking seemed cold. "There is one more thing, please." She pulled out a small book wrapped in a silk cloth and handed it to me. (Why not him? I do not know.) This is the Bushido Book, The Code of the Warrior. I think you do not know Japanese, but please accept it as my gift." We were quite overwhelmed. The book was obviously quite old, probably a family heirloom. Still, it was unthinkable to refuse it. We took it and kept it always among our few treasured possessions.

A commercial edition of the book she gave us

A most important note: As usual most of these pictures are roached from the Internet, compliments of Google Search. Two are not. That strange-looking being on the Golden Gate Bridge is me, as a giant Nihang. Why not?

That very handsome Sardar Ji I have used to illustrate bana is the father of my little sister Kamal Kaur. His name is Sarbjeet Singh Ji and he, like my own Dad, is a Canadian from Punjabi. Notice the twinkle in his eyes and that lovely smile.

Sarbjeet Singh Ji

My medical caretaker,Irene pointed out to me that if he is my sister's father, then he must also be my Dad. An interesting idea, as I believe he is somewhat younger than my 57 years! My thanks to these two for letting me use this picture. 


One further note about Kamal Ji. You might have noticed her listed as an author, although she has never contributed a post. This is for a very special reason. For some time, she has been downloading and saving each post's html on her computer. Anything can happen on the Internet. This site could be hacked, Blogger could decide to delete it for some reason, new laws in America might restrict the freedom of speech and/or the press. If this blog should, for any reason disappear from the blogosphere, dear Kamal Ji will have preserved it, so it will not be destroyed. Of course, I also download it to my computer, but my poor old compy isn't very reliable and if something should happen to me, it might sit forever here with no one the wiser. So she is performing a great sewa, in my opinion. This will probably embarrass her, but, little sister, I want to thank you from my heart for doing this.

Joyfully, As A Hero To The Victory!

That line is from a poem by Friedrich Schiller, The Ode To Joy. In part, it says:

Happy, as God's suns fly through the heavens' mighty plan

Brothers, run your race, joyfully as a hero to the victory.

Sounds pretty chardi kala to me, eh? So be a hero.

First, watch the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_OHpi3euro&feature=player_embedded

We Sikhs have always, from the very first, been known as people who never give up, who give everything in winning the victory. Now we have taken on our most powerful opponent ever, the most powerful organisation in the world, the United States Military. Unlike in many other countries, in the USA, our Singhs - and Kaurs - are not allowed to keep kesh and tie turbans. You are already aware of the struggle of these two young Singhs who signed up in good faith, being reassured that kesh and turban would not be a problem. They were lied to! Now ordered to report for active duty this summer, they have also been ordered to ditch the kesh and turban.

This must be fought. It will be fought! Can we win? Of course, we can win. The question is, do we have the will to win? Will we actually do it?

I want to make a very personal statement here. As most of you know, my family was murdered in the Delhi Pogrom of 1984. That year, from before the Bluestar Massacre to the mass murders in November and beyond, was one of the most traumatic in Sikh history. The Panth has been badly hurt, even temporarily broken, perhaps. But the broken can be mended and become even stronger than before. My generation has been fighting this for 25 years - longer than many of you have even been alive. We will continue to fight, to demand justice!

It is time for you younger Sikhs to pick up your part of the struggle. The fight to convince the US Military to grant us our religious rights is, as the Sikh Coalition says, this is the case of your generation- not just in America but in the world. The disaster of the last eight years has shown us that, as this powerful country goes, so goes the world. I ask you to not only sign the petition - you've all done that already, right? If you haven't please do so below - but also please scrape together whatever you can and then a little more and send it to The Sikh Coalition. It is a sad fact that everything costs money these days. I cannot think of a better, bigger, more historic Sikh cause to send your money to these days. I know the suggested amounts are beyond the means of many readers. That's OK. Send what you can. If 5 people send $5 each, that's a $25 donation. You are a part of our great and beautiful history. Remember the sacrifices of our sant-sipahis, our shaheeds through history - including family members of many readers here - and honour them by doing your part for this victory. DONATE NOW!

And there is more to do! Please visit the Sikh Coalition Army Action Page for more ideas. Do what you can. Do it in honour of our shaheeds. Do it in honour of my husband, Shaheed Mani Singh and my son, Shaheed Sandeep Singh, as well as my two little unborn daughters, my precious little Kaurs. Do it because it's the right thing to do. Do it because you're a Sikh! (Or do it because you believe in this cause, even if you're not a Sikh!) Whatever your reason, do it!

From THE SIKH COALITION:

This Vaisakhi, let's honor and protect our faith.

Support the Army Campaign. Support our Work Today.

Contribute $100 or more to receive a commemorative "Sikh Right to Serve" T-shirt

It is with great joy that Sikhs remember Vaisakhi Day. We feel joy when we think of our Guru. We feel strength when we think of our Panj Piare.

We feel unspeakable of respect when we think of the Sikhs before us who sacrificed their lives for justice, but never gave up their faith.

Just think about it. Everyone reading this message is the inheritor of the sacrifice, strength, and love of the Sikhs before them.

So what is your place in Sikh history? (Emphasis mine. Mai)

On Vaisakhi Day 2009, 2 young Sikhs challenged the U.S. Army's policy of excluding Sikhs from service.

Today, like the Sikhs before us, can you help secure our future by financially supporting this campaign? Contribute securely online here:
https://secure.groundspring.org/dn/index.php?aid=2563

Let's not mince words. This is the case of our generation in America. We are taking on the world's most powerful institution. If we are victorious, literally a whole class of cases of anti-Sikh discrimination will disappear.

Please help our generation of Sikhs make history by donating $25, $50, $100, $250, $500, $1000 today:
https://secure.groundspring.org/dn/index.php?aid=2563

As a token of appreciation for your support, all donors who give $100 or more will receive a commemorative campaign T-shirt. We hope this T-shirt will serve as a reminder to you and your friends of your support at this critical juncture in Sikh history.

As Sikhs, we know from our history that there is no challenge we can not overcome.

We will not defer this fight to the next generation. With your support, we will win this fight in our generation.

Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa, Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh!
The Sikh Coalition Board and Staff

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