My Journal - Part One: Introduction, 29 November - 2 December 1984

Click here to read the whole unexpurgated journal.



I DO NOT WANT TO START THIS BLOG WITH A POST OF NOTHING BUT FOUL LANGUAGE. I HOPE MR. McLEAN DOES NOT OBJECT TO MY USING HIS SONG AS A SORT OF INTRODUCTION.





Don McLean

Crossroads

This is lyrics from http://www.lyrics007.com/


I've got nothing on my mind: nothing to remember,
Nothing to forget. and I've got nothing to regret,
But I'm all tied up on the inside,
No one knows quite what I've got;
And I know that on the outside
What I used to be, I'm not anymore.

You know I've heard about people like me,
But I never made the connection.
They walk one road to set them free
And find they've gone the wrong direction.

But there's no need for turning back
`cause all roads lead to where I stand.
And I believe I'll walk them all
No matter what I may have planned.

Can you remember who I was? can you still feel it?
Can you find my pain? can you heal it?
Then lay your hands upon me now
And cast this darkness from my soul.
You alone can light my way.
You alone can make me whole once again.









We've walked both sides of every street
Through all kinds of windy weather.
But that was never our defeat
As long as we could walk together.

So there's no need for turning back
`cause all roads lead to where we stand.
And I believe we'll walk them all
No matter what we may have planned.



INTRODUCTION


This is a journal I kept toward the end of 1984.

My nuclear family and I had gotten got in the (choose one or more:)

1. The Anti-Sikh Riots


2. The Anti-Sikh Pogroms


3. The Second Battle of Delhi


4. The Sikh Genocide of 1984

My husband, son, two brothers, two cousins ant my two unborn daughters were killed. Suni, my sister/cousin, her unborn daughter and I survived.

I was badly beaten and was in a coma for several weeks. When I woke up, I started keeping this journal..For me to journal is as natural as for me to breathe; it has been a part of my life from the time I first learned tom write.

The language and some of the sentiments expressed, especially toward Hindus, are pretty rough. I apologise for neither. Although I rarely use such language and I long ago stopped blaming 'the Hindus' for what happened, given the time and circumstances, I think both are entirely appropriate.

I do blame those who actually did the destruction, as well as those who instigated this bloody massacre, Mr. Jagdish Tytler comes to mind. While I bear no animosity toward those who did not participate, I do still look for justice, a few hangings, starting with the above-mentioned Mr. Tytler.

BAD MOON RISING

by Creedence Clearwater Revival

I see a bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin.
I see bad times today.

Chorus:
Dont go around tonight,
Well, its bound to take your life,
Theres a bad moon on the rise.

I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.

Chorus

Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like were in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.

Chorus
Chorus

29 NOVEMBER 1984

Alain pretends it's all his fault.
[Expletive Deleted] so smug with his clean white turban, carefully brushed beard...I

want to rip the damned thing off his head, chop off his kesh ... pull the beard out by its roots.

All the pretense.

They have no idea.



MANI

MANI

MANI
You looked so happy.


Sandeep's broken neck bizarre angle

[Religious slur deleted]
Those -expletive deleted] metal bars..heat em red hot...give em a lesson in [expletive deleted]
[Religious slur deleted] on a stick.

Little puppets moving arms and kicking legs , roasting little [religious slur deleted]

[A whole lot of expletives and religious slurs deleted]

30 NOVEMBER 1984

OK, Ms. Mai, now write something rational. How about 3/4; that's rational.

Get control of yourself, lady. Lady? I want my DADDY.
DADDY?
DADDY? Your dead, too.

Dead, dead, all dead.
Alone, alone, all all alone
Alone on a wide,wide sea
And not a saint in heaven took pity on
My soul in agony.

Oh, hi, Daddy, I wanted to talk to you.
--I know, Princess. Is something amiss?
Yes, They've all been murdered. All. singing: Bert Singh and Ed Singh and Bilbar and Mohan, and Mandeep and Sandeep and Kaurs One and Two. I don't understand.
--The Hukam of Waheguru.
A torrent of profanity--Mai wife-widow of Gursikh Mandeep

cusses Waheguru and his [expletive deleted] Hukam --

--Quiet, Harinder, have you gone mad?
Daddy, you didn't see them. All the blood and the [expletive deleted] hit the fan and we fought and they died and I'm still here. Why aren't I with them?
--The Hukam of Waheguru.
I [expletive deleted] hate it.
--I know.
Daddy, I love him and they killed him.
--I know.
Both of them and your dead, too.
--Yes.
You never call me Harinder
--You need to remember who you are.
This is all delusion. I write I talk to ghosts. Why the ghosts of my Mani and our Sandeep. My pure, sweet, innocent son, so loving, so trusting, he really believed everything Mani believed everything. I believed everything. Now? Har. Inder. Too much name. Alone, alone, all, all...
Lilly is staring at me. Stop it, [expletive deleted]! Self-righteous Jain dog[expletive deleted]...you'd just watch em kill everybody, not lift a hand. Can ahimsa win against a mob of [religious slur deleted] eh, Lilly. Quit staring . just sit down and meditate on potatoes.

MANI

1 DECEMBER 1984

Today I will write about today.

Al is trying to be in charge. Poor boy just isn't the leader Daddy was. I hope he'll learn.

He apologised to me: 'Little sister, I'm so sorry this happened.'

THIS HAPPENED? THIS HAPPENED? What kind of bloody statement is that! Mani and Sandeep and Ed and Bert and Bilbar and Mohan and Waheguru knows how many more are dead or dying and he says THIS HAPPENED. [Expletive deleted] OK, I promised no profanity today.

Then he says, 'I'll never let this happen to you again.'

I couldn't help myself; I burst out laughing and laughing. Poor Al couldn't figure out why I was laughing, but he started laughing too and then all the others. Others. I'm never alone. People, people, people. Drs, nurses, visitors, long-faced turbans, everybody gotta gawk at me and cheer me up. Hahahahaha.

Suni and Hope. And Lilly. And the nihang over in the corner. They can stay. The rest just GET OUT!! But they don't hear me. I am so pumped full of narcotics that I can't think straight. Or see straight. I can't really see what I'm writing. The nihang is a hallucination. That's OK. He has a friendly look to him.

(Different handwriting: No he's really there. I can see him, too.)

That was Suni. But she is fanciful. She sees a real nihang ghost watching over us. Our guard. I see a narcotic hallucination. Doesn't matter. I like him, but I hate all these drugs. I bet they mixed tranquillisers with the painkillers. It has been over a month, they tell me. So I need neither painkillers nor tranquillisers. I must demand they take me off before I become a junkie. I'm still a Khalsa, eh? No drugs.

(2007:Something I haven't figured out. Yet. Have to keep trying.)

Suni is walking over to the nihang with Hope. I named her. Suni wouldn't let her be named until I regained consciousness. She could have gone nameless. Guru says she's an 'H'. Hope. Not Punjabi, but we need Hope now. They also call her Harjinder. She is talking to him. The nihang. He is smiling at the baby and kissing, yeah, kissing, her hair. That must mean something. A shared hallucination---we've both flipped out.

(This whole page was obviously wet. Tears, I suppose.)

2 DECEMBER 1984

Wonderful day today! Great day! I am now holding in my hand...

Al came in with a bundle. something wrapped in a saffron cloth. He hands it to me. Be careful, though, he says.

I open it. Two cloths, one torn white t-shirt material. one saffron chunni material or maybe turban or a sash. both really bloody. And all wrapped around my beloved H-T!!!. I had thought she was gone forever. Blade bloody, dried blood now.

Al says, We left it uncleaned. Thought you would like to do that.

No, no, no, no!!! No way, Jose! You don't clean your weapon in the middle of a battle. And this isn't over. And H-T is a weapon!!! No pious kirpan, razor sharp deadly...she did her job.

How did they get her?

Al says when the brahmins rescued us. I grasped them, wouldn't let go.

Then I knew the cloths..The white I had cut off the [expletive and religious slur deleted] (choke) gentleman, hahahahaha, I had killed. A lot of blood comes out of a slashed jugular vein. Poor baby. Teach him to go around killing Gursikhs. I soaked it in his blood. I'm not sure why, It was fun, though.

The other was Suni's chunni. I have ripped it off her and cut off a piece and then put it back over her hair.. I used it to wipe blood off Mani's face and my face too while I was talking to him before he died. Then I wiped Sandeep's face with it later. I was going to clean the blood off my hands, too, cause they looked like Lady Macbeth, but Mani said, no, those are the hands of a sant, not a murderer. They got washed off some later when I washed everyone's face.

My dear H-T. I THOUGHT I HAD LOST YOU FOREVER, FOREVER, BUT YOU'RE TOO TOUGH. YOU DIDN'T BURN WITH THE HOUSE. NOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOU. I HAVE AN IDEA. TOMORROW MAYBE.

I still see the Nihang staring at me. What does he want? Suni still insists he's a shaheed guarding us and I still insist he's a shared hallucination...How can we ever know.

They are cutting down on the narcotic because I insisted, but they have to take me off slowly. I've been getting IV drugs for almost a month. At least I can think a little more clearly and I'm not in pain at all. In fact, my whole body feel numb.

Do I need to take Amrit again?

I want to talk to Guru Ji.

MANI

See, I told the whole story an only cussed once.

>

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

STOP 'HONOUR' KILLINGS!

FREE BURMA NOW DAMMIT!!!

31 October 1984

WHEN TYRANTS TREMBLE, SICK WITH FEAR,

AND HEAR THEIR DEATH KNELLS RINGING,

WHEN FRIENDS REJOICE, BOTH FAR AND NEAR,

HOW CAN I KEEP FROM SINGING?

ON GALLOWS HIGH OR FUNERAL PYRE,

OUR THOUGHTS TO THEM GO WINGING.

WHEN SHAHEEDS BY SHAME ARE UNDEFILED,

HOW CAN I KEEP FROM SINGING?

Remembrance and Kindness A Radical Suggestion

A few days ago, this letter came to the Gurmal Learning Zone, a Yahoo! group:

Guru Fateh Khalsa ji,
I am posting this Appeal to all the members in
this forum or group and to all the Sikhs in the World to Come Forward
and Participate in a Kindness Project in the World.
From the Tenth Guru
Nanak Dev ji to Guru Gobind Singh ji,the Life and Blood of Khalsa has
been of Total Kindness till today.

This request is to just let the World know
that Sikhs have been,are and will be in the Forefront when ever
Kindness and Compassion are Spoken of.

Here is a poem summing up Sikhs.
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone...
People,even more than things, have to be restored,
renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed;
never throw out anyone.

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand,
you will find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands;
one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others.

Please Copy and Paste this Link in Your Browser:

http://goaddr.com/g6s

Thanking You in anticipation.
Guru Fateh.
Harjit Singh Bajwa

That, in and of itself is an interesting and useful idea. Let's be kind!

I would like to expand on it a bit.

This coming week is not an easy one for us Sikhs as we remember the horrors of 23 years ago. When this blog was new, I was surprised that anyone had found it and having found it, actually read it. An anonymous reader left a comment I have never forgotten. In part, it said:

... The Sikh people have a very very fragile, tender, wounded part of their
heart.. labelled "1984." They will always, whether in public or private, want
some answers, or share some stories, to lessen the grief, to get some empathy,
to unite for justice.

I have a suggestion to make this time a little less difficult and painful for us. It is a little bit radical and I hope no one is offended by it. I call on every Sikh in every part of the world from 31 October to 7 November to be kind and considerate of every other Sikh. For these few days, let us drop our differences and our divisions and be a big, kind, loving family among ourselves.

1. Mr. Singh 1. I am well aware that those fools running the gurdwara are making a mess of things and that Mr. Singh 2 is mismanaging the money, but is it really necessary to pull your kirpan on him?


2. Nihang Ji, I know those fool Nihangs trying to grab power need to be stopped, but is it really necessary to kill your brothers?



3. Mr. Singh, I realise your wife is annoying - I am a wife myself and an expert at being an annoyance to my husband, but when you raise your hand to strike Mrs. Kaur, will you notice the kara on your wrist and remember what is means?


4. Mrs. Kaur, your husband is annoying to you, as well - all husbands are from time to time - but would it really be asking too much to overlook his shortcomings for a week? .

Let us for these eight days have no Sikh commit an act of violence, by word or deed, against another Sikh. Let us have one week of kindness, one to the other. Let this be our remembrance, our gift that we give our beloved family members who achieved shaheedi twenty-three years ago. Let us try this experiment in our homes, in our businesses, in our gurdwaras, in all our dealings for just eight days. Let us see how we react to treating others this way and also being treated with kindness and consideration.

Who are we to make such a suggestion to all Sikhs? We are no official group issuing edicts out of Amritsar. We are just three Kaurs, just three daughters of Guru Gobind Singh Ji Maharaj who love our people, just three Khalsa women. But that's enough, eh?

With love, kindness and gentleness to the Saadh Sangat,

Vini, Suni and Mai,

Dharma Kaur Khalsa


Just one word of caution, if you click on SearchBigDaddy, you will have a 'friend' for life.

This is a really nice presentation of Sikhi to show your nonSikh friends. All the pictures are from this site.

WHY TRY TO FIT IN WHEN YOU WERE BORN TO STAND OUT?

My Journal - November and December, 1984

This is a rather bizarre article from Time Magazine 12 November 1984. It might be worth your time to look at, although, frankly, it upset my stomach.

Back in July, I received from my eldest brother a journal he had found that I had kept back in 1984 from the time I regained consciousness until the end of the year. At that time, I promised you that I would publish it for you to read inn November. Now it is almost November and I wish I hadn't said that. But since I did, I will keep my promise.

In this blog, I will publish a slightly cleaned up version. In the original, I use quite a lot of filthy language, am occasionally obscene and say a few things about Hindus I really don't want my name attached to. There is no way I can clean up the first couple of entries enough to put them here. The rest of them, however, are doable and, since I promised, I will do.

Go here if you want to read the unexpurgated version.

They journal - except for the last few entries, which I have not yet transcribed - is in a blog that is available to invited readers only. I will invite anyone who sends me a request. My address is in the right hand column. If you send me your e-mail address, I will use it for nothing except to issue your invitation. I believe this will keep the search engines out of it, which is my fervent desire.

So if you want an invitation, let me know and I'll get it out to you as soon as I can. By the way, I have put some thought into the appearance of this blog and am quite happy with the look of it.

Halloween

One week from today is 31 October, a significant date for all of us Sikhs. In North America, it is also the date of the second most celebrated holiday (Christmas is first) of the year. I realise that readers inother parts of the world may never have heard of this nightmare holiday, so I will attempt to explain it.

It is Hallowe'en, which is an abbreviation of All Hallows' Eve. All Saints' Day or All Hallows' Day is on 1 November of the Roman Catholic calendar. This is a day set aside to honour all the dead saints. The night before, however, evolved into a time to honour everything evil. I am not going to give a history of Hallowe'en here; if you're interested, here is an excellent website.

I am going to talk about the current celebration. Dressing in costumes is the biggest deal. Traditional costumes are things such as devils, witches, ghosts, skeletons and the like. Modern costumes might be anything - from space aliens to monsters to royalty. Little girls often favour the princess or the ballerina. All dressed up and then what?

Most kids love Hallowe'en.They get to go trick-or-treating, which is simply going from house to house, knocking on the door. When the door is opened, the children shout 'Trick or treat!' The adults are expected to make over the kids, complimenting their costumes and pretending not to know who they are. Then they put candy in the containers the children have brought for that purpose. The name, however, means 'give me a treat or I'll play a trick on you. I don't think that's taken very seriously, though, as I have always ignored Halloween and no one has hassled me.

Parties are also popular for all ages. One traditional Halloween game is dunking for apples. Apples are placed in a tub of water. Hands behind the back, the person is supposed to use their mouth to retrieve an apple.

The haunted house is another Halloween favourite. The point here is to scare people. In a darkened room, a person might put their hand into a bowl of pealed grapes and be told they're human eyeballs. Or long, cooked, oiled pasta might be 'intestines. Human skeletons might jiggle around. Blood-curdling screams are heard. You get the idea.

Often teenagers light firecrackers and smoke bombs boom bombs are much in evidence. Our neighbourhood tends to look, sound and smell like a war zone.

It is also a time when a lot of inhibitions are loosened. Alcohol is consumed in great quantities. Murders, rapes, muggings and other violent crimes abound. Across the street from us lives a 'man' - I call him 'the maggot' - who tried to rape his next-door neighbour girl last summer. He hasn't been around much; everybody knows about it and he isn't safe around here. Nobody, including me, will have anything to do with him. Her brothers beat him up rather thoroughly, but stopped short of killing him. I have no idea how his court case is going, but the charges against him - attempted rape, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, supplying a minor with a controlled substance, supplying alcohol to a minor - are serious enough to send him to prison for many years. I am very apprehensive as to what may happen to his house next Wednesday.

I hate Halloween.

More On Maya - Personal Thoughts

An aside: While looking for pictures I came across something I thought I should alert you to. It is a group of Adventists, evidentally centred in Surrey, British Columbia, who have decided they'd like to convert us to their brand of Christianity. This website post from April this year gives some interesting insights into their methods. You might like to check it out.

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

Continuing my theme from yesterday.

So what is it that separates me - myself, me personally, I won't try to speak for anyone else - from God? The Five Great Vices, of course. What else? But let me be more specific. Not all are equally troublesome. I will pick the three that give me the most headaches.

EGO. I had thought maybe I had made a little progress here, until I had that stroke in April, 2006. I learned how self-centred and egotistical I really am. For a long time, I was very reluctant to go in public. I look funny and move funny and run into things and PEOPLE STARE AT ME! And the worst is when they talk to me as if I were mentally deficient. ME! GENIUS ME! OK, I have lost my languages and still have a lot of relearning to do, I admit. I am working on that. I am slowly relearning Gurmukhi. (I wonder why that is so difficult for me?) Even now, it is difficult for me to go to gurdwara because it embarrasses me that I can't bow properly and getting up and down on the floor requires assistance. This is just a small thing, I know, but it is a symptom of a much deeper and larger problem. And I am so proud to be able to admit that. Yow, this ego thing is a slippery problem.

ANGER. Yes, I am angry. After all these years, I am still seething with anger. And my anger is completely justified. Everyone I know agrees with that. My family was murdered for no good reason and I was nearly killed, as well. My friends encourage me to hold on to this anger as both natural and righteous. Perhaps. But forgive me if I quote Dr. Phil: 'Would you rather be right or happy?' Certainly, it's hard to be happy even on this earth while weighed down with a load of anger and hatred. And knowing that is separating me from God adds guilt to the load, as well. Am I justified in my anger? Perhaps. But is it useful to me on my journey home? I think not.

ATTACHMENT. This is the real cause of the anger, I think. I am still attached to my dead loved ones. Although I have a loving husband, I still long for the one who is at home and, I'm sure, at peace. I still ache for my son, my perfect young boy man, so much like the best of his father and grandfather, and maybe a little of me in there, too. My two baby daughters. I never even got to hold them, nurse them, find their names. And my brothers, especially Bert; he was my best friend, the person I could talk to, who had always been there for me, who understood me and always took me seriously, even while seeing everything with a sense of humour

.

There's the list. Ego is slippery and hard to deal with. Anger feels so justified. Attachment is a sort of sweet melancholy. What to do? What to do? I know. I feel my Guru Ji whispering in my ear. Ardaas. Simran. Action. Perseverance. Chardi Kala.

I think this is enough self-reflection for one day. I hope it isn't merely self-indulgence to post it on the Inter net. (Ego again.)





Pictures:





Top- I use a brain to symbolise pride because I have always been proud of my intellect. But this is not just any brain! This is the brain of Albert Einstein.





Middle - I use a nuclear mushroom cloud to symbolise anger. I think this needs no explanation.





Bottom - Anyone recognise what this is? What I use to symbolise attachment is a microscopic view of Velcro being torn apart.

WHY TRY TO FIT IN WHEN YOU WERE BORN TO STAND OUT?