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.
Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace--but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!
02 November 2010
01 November 2010
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.
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.
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 of25
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?
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
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?
31 October 2010
DING, DONG, THE WITCH IS DEAD!!
DING, DONG, THE WITCH IS DEAD,
Which old witch? The wicked witch!
Ding, dong the wicked witch is dead!
She’s gone to where the goblins go,
Below, below, below!
Sing it high! Sing it low!
Let them know the wicked witch is dead!
From : The Wizard of Oz
From : The Wizard of Oz
Had Indira Gandhi not been killed on 31 October 1984, you would probably not be reading this blog because your author would have been killed in Operation Shanti, beginning on 8 November 1984. Read on, dear readers.
Twenty-six years ago today, Indira Gandhi, Prime Minister of India, Architect of the Bluestar Massacre, enemy of the Sikh people, was executed by Shaheed Beant Singh and Shaheed Satwant Singh, inspired and encouraged by the uncle Shaheed Kehar Singh. Let us drop any hypocrisy we may be harbouring about this person. She knew that in attacking Darbar Sahib (Amritsar) she would earn the lasting enmity of the Sikh Quam and go down in Sikh history next to Aurangzeb. She was evil, but she wasn't stupid. She surely knew that it was suicidal to keep Sikh bodyguards after desecrating Harmandir Sahib. Or was she so far gone in her megalomania that she thought she was invincible? Or did she believe she could implement Operation Shanti before anyone would take action against her? In any case, her nefarious plans were thwarted by her own action in not reassigning them.
Twenty-six years ago today, Indira Gandhi, Prime Minister of India, Architect of the Bluestar Massacre, enemy of the Sikh people, was executed by Shaheed Beant Singh and Shaheed Satwant Singh, inspired and encouraged by the uncle Shaheed Kehar Singh. Let us drop any hypocrisy we may be harbouring about this person. She knew that in attacking Darbar Sahib (Amritsar) she would earn the lasting enmity of the Sikh Quam and go down in Sikh history next to Aurangzeb. She was evil, but she wasn't stupid. She surely knew that it was suicidal to keep Sikh bodyguards after desecrating Harmandir Sahib. Or was she so far gone in her megalomania that she thought she was invincible? Or did she believe she could implement Operation Shanti before anyone would take action against her? In any case, her nefarious plans were thwarted by her own action in not reassigning them.
I was in Delhi at a family gathering when we got the news that she had been shot. Dead silence followed by, “Well, I hope the bitch is dead!” She was, of course. When we later heard that her Sikh bodyguards had shot her, a cheer went up. None of us was surprised. The older members quickly sobered up. “Glad she’s gotten rid of, but there’s going to be hell to pay.”
Of course there was. Rajiv Gandhi screamed for revenge. Amitabh Bachhan came on TV screaming "KHOON KA BADLA KHOON!" (Blood for blood!)” Blood for blood there was, indeed. The mobs were given the addresses of Sikh families, paid in liquor and kerosene and ran off to the joy of the slaughter. By the time the bloodbath ended, thousands of Sikhs were dead, thousands widowed and tens of thousands orphaned. The financial losses pale next to the toll of human life, but they were also devastating to the Sikh community.
Consider the situation from our Sikh point of view. Not only was she responsible for invading and shooting up our holiest site, she also destroyed much of our history in the burning of the Akal Takht and the Sikh History Library. This was followed by Operation Woodrose, a pretty name for a diabolical action rounding up and murdering Amritdhari males in Punjab.
Of course there was. Rajiv Gandhi screamed for revenge. Amitabh Bachhan came on TV screaming "KHOON KA BADLA KHOON!" (Blood for blood!)” Blood for blood there was, indeed. The mobs were given the addresses of Sikh families, paid in liquor and kerosene and ran off to the joy of the slaughter. By the time the bloodbath ended, thousands of Sikhs were dead, thousands widowed and tens of thousands orphaned. The financial losses pale next to the toll of human life, but they were also devastating to the Sikh community.
Consider the situation from our Sikh point of view. Not only was she responsible for invading and shooting up our holiest site, she also destroyed much of our history in the burning of the Akal Takht and the Sikh History Library. This was followed by Operation Woodrose, a pretty name for a diabolical action rounding up and murdering Amritdhari males in Punjab.
It is widely believed that she had concocted a larger genocidal plan called Operation Shanti (Peace) to virtually wipe out the Sikhs of India. This was to be carried out in the second week of November during the celebration of the birth anniversary of Guru Nanak Dev ji.
Indira drew a diabolical plan, named Operation Shanti, to carry out a general massacre of the Sikhs, of genocidal proportions, around November 8, when the Sikhs would assemble in various Gurdwaras for Guru Nanak's birthday celebrations. According to the plan, large-scale skirmishes virtually amounting to a war were to take place all along the India-Pakistan borders. And, it was to be given out that the Sikhs had risen in revolt in Punjab and joined hands with Pakistani armed forces which had made considerable advances into the Indian Territory. The Sikhs all over Punjab, especially in Gurdaspur, Amritsar, Ferozepur, Kapurthala and Jalandhar districts were to be subjected to massive aerial bombardment, apart from being slaughtered by army and para military forces. The Sikhs all over India were to be subjected to mass scale massacre, loot, arson and incendiarism by lumpen elements organized by Youth Congress(I) activists. Elaborate preparations were made by Youth Congress (I) network all over India; they were to await a coded signal to start mayhem. Operation Shanti, Sikhwiki.
Large scale Sikh genocide was being planned by the top layers of government including Gandhi herself. The plan, known as Operation Shanti, was to take place around November 8, as was a surprise attack on Pakistan. Beant Singh, the man who assassinated Gandhi, heard of Operation Shanti from R. K. Dhawan, Special Assistant to the Prime Minister and decided to kill Gandhi. [source: The Sikhs in History by Sangat Singh] from SikhLionz .
I try to be nice, really I do. I just can't find it in me to be nice about this monster. Had she not died when she did, who knows what havoc would have been wreaked upon us by the Mad Dog of Delhi, the Wicked Witch of the East, Indira (Nehru) Gandhi?
By knarmahfox the edge of death.wav (http://www.freesound.org/samplesViewSingle.php?id=59182)
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HAPPY HALLOWEEN, indeed.
26 October 2010
Taking Back Your Head
A poem for those who once gave Guru Jee their head by taking Amrit, but took it back...
Guru Gobind Singh Ji tried, to keep you on the right track
You gave Him your head, but then you took it back
Turning your back on Guru Ji, how did it feel?
Or were you too busy convincing yourself, that "It's really no big deal"
Remember that day when you took Amrit and made a vow?
What happened to those promises, who is your Guru now?
You sold out your Sikhi, and that's the plain truth
You ruined this precious life, saying "I want to enjoy my youth"
To make yourself feel better, you can say whatever you want to
But one dreadful day, your words will come to haunt you
And when that day comes, you will regret what you have
done
You lost your honour, in a battle you should have won
This world is just maya, it will take your Sikhi away
Tell me, did you forget that you are gonna die one day?
When this dream called life reaches its end
Then who will be your saviour, your helper, your True Friend?
There is still hope, you need to sharpen your mind
Go towards Guru Ji, and the Truth you will find
To merge with God, you were sent to earth
Trying to impress the world, you wasted the human birth
Did you think of those mothers,
who wore their babies around their necks?
Or did all you think about, was attracting the opposite sex?
The very same hair that Guru Ji put Amrit in
You grabbed the scissors, and committed the ultimate sin
Guru Ji's Sons gave their lives, so you can be a Sikh
Their Sikhi remained strong, with each and every brick
Now is the time, for you to wake up and take control
Guru Ji is the water, that will sooth your burning soul
Do you really want to come back to this hell on earth?
Wandering and suffering, birth after birth
You say you're not ready to take Amrit, thats always your reply
But think about this...are you ready to die?
You think you'll practice Sikhi, in the future when you are old
But tell me, do you know when your body will turn cold?
When it's all said and done, you will be full of sorrow and regret
You'll want to go to Sach Khand, but the requirements were not met
Guru Ji's arms are wide open, and He is waiting for you
It's time to take action, and do what you gotta do
Change your life RIGHT NOW!, don't wait another day
Tomorrow may never come, then what will be left to say?
That Guru Gobind Singh Ji tried to put me on the right track
I gave Him my head, but then I took it back.
Poem courtesy of Sikh Roots
You gave Him your head, but then you took it back
Turning your back on Guru Ji, how did it feel?
Or were you too busy convincing yourself, that "It's really no big deal"
Remember that day when you took Amrit and made a vow?
What happened to those promises, who is your Guru now?
You sold out your Sikhi, and that's the plain truth
You ruined this precious life, saying "I want to enjoy my youth"To make yourself feel better, you can say whatever you want toBut one dreadful day, your words will come to haunt you
And when that day comes, you will regret what you have
done
You lost your honour, in a battle you should have won
This world is just maya, it will take your Sikhi away
Tell me, did you forget that you are gonna die one day?
When this dream called life reaches its end
Then who will be your saviour, your helper, your True Friend?
There is still hope, you need to sharpen your mind
Go towards Guru Ji, and the Truth you will find
To merge with God, you were sent to earth
Did you think of those mothers,
who wore their babies around their necks?
Or did all you think about, was attracting the opposite sex?
The very same hair that Guru Ji put Amrit in
You grabbed the scissors, and committed the ultimate sin
Guru Ji's Sons gave their lives, so you can be a Sikh
Their Sikhi remained strong, with each and every brick
Now is the time, for you to wake up and take control
Guru Ji is the water, that will sooth your burning soul
Do you really want to come back to this hell on earth?
Wandering and suffering, birth after birth
But think about this...are you ready to die?
You think you'll practice Sikhi, in the future when you are old
But tell me, do you know when your body will turn cold?
When it's all said and done, you will be full of sorrow and regret
You'll want to go to Sach Khand, but the requirements were not met
Guru Ji's arms are wide open, and He is waiting for you
It's time to take action, and do what you gotta do
Change your life RIGHT NOW!, don't wait another day
Tomorrow may never come, then what will be left to say?
That Guru Gobind Singh Ji tried to put me on the right track
I gave Him my head, but then I took it back.
Poem courtesy of Sikh Roots
13 October 2010
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY - Kid's Day At Abbotsford Gurdwara, BC, Canada
Picture Courtesy of Gurumustuk Singh
through a Creative Commons License
 | ||
| Kid's Day At Abbotsford Gurdwara, BC, Canada |
07 October 2010
VIDEOS OF KHALISTAN RALLY!!
SikhRevolution has given permission to embed these videos of the rally held at Jagreon on 28 October 2010. Please watch and listen and be inspired. Or appalled. Or scared. Or however you react to the idea of Khalistan. As I wrote the other day, 2 Lakh (2,00,000 OR 200,000 in Western numbers) attended this. Each person attending (except, of course, the RAW agents and other governmental infiltrators) puts him/herself in danger from the GOI and, worse, the notorious Punjab police.
Please, do not misuse these videos in any way!
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
INTERVIEW WITH SIMRANJIT SINGH MANN AT THE RALLY
Please, do not misuse these videos in any way!
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
INTERVIEW WITH SIMRANJIT SINGH MANN AT THE RALLY
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