THE ROAD TO KHALISTAN: 11/02/07

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 2007

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.

Every muscle feels like it was run over by a Mack truck.
My right knee has a knife stuck in it.
My eyes are on fire.
My head is in a very tight vise.
Every time I shut my eyes I see my dead husband, son, brother, brother, brother, nephew.
I can't get the smell of [expletives deleted] blood out of my nostrils.
Food all tastes like puke and I throw it up.
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