Sarika Needs Our Help - Update

Go here to sign the petition supporting our brave, young sister who is standing up for who she is and what she believes!

Sarika Singh is a 14-year old girl who attends Aberdare Girls’ School.

She wears a ‘Kara’ to school and because of this she has been isolated in school. The school keep referring to her Kara as a piece of jewellery and therefore a health & safety risk. However, it is a visible article of faith that represents her belief.

Prior to being excluded she had been put into isolation at school and was being taught separately to every other student, as she refused to remove her Kara. While in isolation she was not allowed to talk to any of her friends and was not even allowed to go to the bathroom without a teacher. She has not been allowed to take part in school activities or clubs after school. It is very concerning that Sarika was taught in isolation because of her beliefs.

While in isolation she was not getting taught the education that she should because she was made to copy out of books and if the support teacher did not know about the subject she could not do the work and was told to do something else instead.

Sarika believes that everyone should stand up for what they believe, and she feels that her school by trying to prevent her from wearing her Kara has made her a victim of her belief.

Prior to exclusion she was not receiving the education that she should be receiving like the other pupils in the school. This issue has been going on since May.

Following her exclusion from 5 November the family with the help of Liberty is being forced to seek a judicial review as the school is demanding she remove the small bangle called a Kara. Various parties have tried to resolve this matter by discussing it and arranging meetings (with the school), but the school has not been forthcoming.

Sarika is very upset and wants to go back to school as soon as possible. She is a good student and she wants to see her friends, like any other 14-year-old.

The school bans all pupils from wearing jewellery other than plain metal ear studs and a wristwatch. Up until the exclusion on 5 November the school maintained the Kara was an item of jewellery. Only after the publicity did the school say it also did not allow crosses or head scarves.

The Headteacher is Jane Rosser and has been very forthright in her right to run the school as she deems appropriate. Welsh Assembly member Leanne Wood has said the case shows schools (in Wales) need guidance on uniforms. The guidance is Wales has been pending for four years. In England the guidance put out to schools on Sikh articles of faith has been helpful and allowed schools and the individuals to come to sensible solutions.

Anna Fairclough, of the human rights group Liberty which is providing legal representation has said: “The school's reaction to our client's desire to modestly observe her faith has not only been discriminatory but defies common sense.

“Unfortunately, the school's uniform policy appears to mean that no Sikh can attend the school without compromising their beliefs.”

Following the Mandla v Lee case (House of Lords 1983) Sikhs are protected under the Race Relations Act 1976 and the school is unlawfully discriminating against Sarika. From a legal perspective it is similar to a child being excluded because of the colour of their skin and is totally unacceptable.

The following web site has been set up in support of Sarika:

http://supportsarika.co.uk

Please support Sarika by visiting the web site and signing the online petition. You could also circulate this link to friends via e-groups, discussion forums etc.


*************************************************************
Sarita Needs Our Help
I will get back to posting my journal, but this is important.

I imagine by now the whole cybersangat is aware of the predicament of Sarita Singh in Wales. Her school is forbidding her from wearing her kara. The only 'jewelry' her school allows is a wristwatch and plain stud earrings. I think it is ironic that they would allow her to mutilate herself, but not wear her kara. In her own words,

"It's very important to me, it constantly reminds me to do good and not to
do bad, especially with my hands."

This came into my in box this morning. Can we please all go to the link and support our young sister by signing the petition there?

The following web site has been set up in support of Sarika, the 14 year old girl who has been excluded from school in South Wales for wearing the Kara, religious bangle.

http://supportsarika.co.uk/

Please support Sarika by visiting the web site and signing the online petition.

Aberdare Girls School in Wales has excluded the pupil for refusing to remove her Kara as it says it has a strict policy on jewellery which only allows pupils to wear a watch or stud earnings.

The Kara is a fundamental part of the Sikh religion. It is not a piece of jewelery, but it is an article of faith and expression of religious belief.

It's the least we can do. And I think we need to do it.

The next day: Wednesday, 21 November:

I just checked the petition. It has 433 signatures, of which two were outclicked from this site.

Here is a news update from the India eNews:

Global support for suspended Sikh girl in Britain

From correspondents in London, England, 10:00 AM IST


As the issue involving a Sikh girl's suspension from a Welsh school for wearing a kada, a symbol of Sikhism, appeared headed for the courts, hundreds of people from around the world backed the girl through a website set up to support her.

Sarika Watkins-Singh, 14, of mixed Welsh-Punjabi parentage, has been suspended three times from the Aberdare Girls School for wearing the kada. The school says that wearing it goes against its code, which only allows watches and stud-earrings.

Human rights organisation Liberty, which is directed by Shami Chakrabarti, has taken up Sarika's case. It is arguing that by excluding Sarika, the school's governing body has violated violating the Race Relations Act 1976, the Equality Act 2006 and the Human Rights Act 1998.

Angry, passionate messages against the school authorities have been left by visitors on the website www.supportsarika.co.uk. The website features press and video coverage of the case that has hit the headlines across Britain and elsewhere.

Anna Fairclough, Liberty's legal officer representing the Singhs, said: 'The governing body of the school has ignored established race and equality protections and shamefully turned a young woman into a pariah by isolating her.

'Legal precedents established 25 years ago make clear that she should be allowed to wear the kara without being intimidated by the school.'


(Staff Writer, © IANS)


.

Air Khalistan

I came across this today. It felt good and so I decided to share it with you. It's from Khalistan, The New Global Reality. Although I do wish their cuisine was a little more vegetarian! And the pilot needs to put up the landing gear.

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(Saag)
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-Khalistani Mithian Maujan
(Ras Malai)

.......... and many more!
Please stay tune.

My Journal - Part 5: 23 December - 25 December 1984

Click here to read the whole unexpurgated journal

Please read Part Four.

23 December

I broke my rule. I never read a journal before writing in it. I did today, though. This whole book from the beginning. It is hard reading. Some of the pages have dried tears, others dried blood. Some are incredibly nasty. But I will not break my second rule. I change not a word.

Suni and I did make an agreement. We will not live our lives as victims. We are alive. She has Hope to raise and I promised Mani that I will remarry. What a horrid, dreadful thought. However, a promise is still a promise - and somehow it will be kept. (The Nihang smiles at me.)

(expletive deleted)

The Pedersens are staying through Christmas. My feelings about Laura keep changing. Sometimes I look at her and it's almost like having Sandeep back. Other times I almost hate her. No, other times I do hate her. I want to gouge her eyes out. Oh, Waheguru! I don't know how I feel. Or even if I feel.

Where was I two months ago? 23 October. A village near Delhi. Suni and I away from the luftdreck (2007, literally, airsh*t, a word for smog I picked up somewhere) in the city. Two pregnant ladies without a care in the world, happy, giggling, eating too much and not exercising enough. Both happily married, our husbands spoiling us and trying to keep us happy. Two young sons, just starting life, with big plans and bigger hopes.

Now I am torturing myself. Nihang Singh Ji, come save me!!!!!!!

*************************************************************
24 December 1984

Christmas Eve. Yippee. I'm overjoyed. How about a Christmas carol?

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

There is something unbearably poignant about this song, even in the best of times.. And these are the worst of times. A Christmas song for Sikhs??!!?! But the next verse could almost, ALMOST be from our Guru Ji:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

I don't think so. I don't believe it. I used to believe it. (The Nihang looks grim.) I want to believe it, even now. But I see that (expletive deleted) Hindu smashing my Sandeep's neck and I hear the crack of his neck breaking and the grin on the (expletive deleted)'s face. And I don't believe in anything at all. (The Nihang hangs his head for a moment, then looks at me with - compassion? love?) Nihang Singh Ji, be angry at me! Please. Yell at me! Tell me off!! Excommunicate me or something!

Why do I feel so guilty?

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

25 December 1984

CHRISTMAS DAY

Up on the rooftop reindeer paws. Out jumps good ol' Santa Claus... Daddy looked like Santa Claus, only with a turban and not fat. I wish he were here. He could always make sense of things. I bet now all could say would be the hukam of Waheguru.

(expletive deleted)


I don't want to celebrate Christmas. I hate Christmas. We never had to celebrate Christmas because of Sandeep's objections. Wasn't he a purist? Devout. Made the rest of us look like amateurs.

But he's dead and everybody wants to give us presents. EVERYBODY. I honestly would rather do the Jain thing. Go meditate myself to death. Go sleep naked in the snow. But try to be nice. Why?

Because we agreed to be survivors, not victims. I don't want to survive. I curse those (expletive deleted) brahmins that rescued us. I could have died softly in the flames beside my Mani. I could be shaheed at his side.

Today I hate everything, everyone. I want to crawl under the blankets and hide my head. Wrap my hair around my head. My hair is still mine. Still that. (The Nihang touches his turban and smiles.) But I try to smile. I envy Laura. She doesn't even try. Just sits and stares at the Nihang. I don't think she can see him though. Her mother asked what's she looking at and she shakes her head and says, 'nothing.'

She is beautiful. Even with her eyes red and swollen and splotchy skin. Shiny blonde hair almost to her knees, not cut in how long? She keeps it covered all the time now. Surinder is right now tying it in a bun for her, a proper Sikh bun. Can a proper Sikh bun be yellow? She wears all 5 Ks now. Why don't her parents object? Sandeep is dead. They should help her get over him, not encourage this Sikh thing. Shouldn't they?

Oh, (expletive deleted). I don't know anything any more.

I WANT MANI. RIGHT NOW.

My Journal - Part Four 17 December - 22 December 1984

Go here to read the whole unexpurgated journal.



Please read Part Three.


17 DECEMBER 1984

Yesterday it seemed .......not easy, but possible. Today I just can't [expletive deleted] take it. Forever. Always? Who the[expletive deleted] knows? Waheguru? Vahiguru? The nihang looks sad. I project all my feelings onto that beautiful, weathered face with the too-big-for-westerners nose, but I like it. I want to go kill me a few. No, not nihangs. Maybe I could bring a few to help me. I want to get those ones. SUNI KNOWS WHO SOME OF THEM ARE. BUT SHE WON'T SAY. SHE SAYS SHE DOESN'T, BUT I KNOW SHE DOES. AS SOON AS I HEAL UP, I'LL GET THEIR NAMES AND...who am I kidding?

I wonder if my mother will visit me. I'd like to spit in her tobacco-stinking face! She hates Sikhs. She hates her own children. [Expletives deleted.] Especially she hates me. But you'd think she'd show up. I wonder if anyone has told her.

[Expletive deleted] her in the [expletive deleted]! I NEED MANI BACK. AND MY SAINTLY SANDEEP. She would've liked to kill us all. [Expletive deleted] Catholic Hindu murdering [expletive deleted]!

Oh, my goodness gracious, but we are angry today, aren't we. No greed, lust, ego, attachment, but enough anger for all five. Let us laugh.

Where to turn for comfort? It's all so empty.

18 DECEMBER 1984

MANI,

No, I can't forget this evening
Or your face as you were leaving
But I guess that's just the way the story goes
You always smile
But in your eyes your sorrow shows
Yes, it shows No, it doesn't. I never saw anyone look so happy.

No, I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
When I had you there but then I let you go
And now it's only fair that I should let you know
What you should know

Can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give any more
I can't live if living is without you
I can't give, I can't give any more

I can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give anymore
I can't live if living is without you
I can't live, I can't give anymore

And the nihang smiles at me, 'Yes, you can, Khalsa lady.'


Oh, shut up, and stop smiling. I have the right to feel sorry for myself just now!!!!!!!!
And anyway, you're just a hysterical hallucination-----------Aren't you?
Labels: 18 December 1984

19 DECEMBER 1984

(Note from 2007: This entry contains quotes in Gurmukhi from the Sri Guru Granth Sahib. Hence it should be read with respect. The hands should be clean and the head covered. Even if you are not Sikh and/or you do not believe in God, it will do you no harm to show respect.)

I need to start praying. Somewhere I have lost that. To Jap Naam is supposed to be the highest prayer. But I need the others. I have to start with the Mool Mantar. I tried the other day. I couldn't. Perhaps if I simply write it...That's a start. Have to start somewhere. It would break Mani's heart if I didn't. So I try.
ੴ ਸਤਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ

What a strange feeling to be writing Gurmurki. Now I try to sing.

I get half way. Only halfway.



ੴ ਸਤਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ

No fear. No anger. I doubt it. No fear. I have nothing left to fear. But anger! Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I have enough of that to be the Christian image of God. He is one angry bastard. I remember we studied a sermon called Sinners In The Hands Of An Angry God in school. That would be enough to scare the shit out of anyone.

The nihang is staring at me. He wants me to complete the Mool Mantar. OK.

ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ

Now try to put it all together.

ੴ ਸਤਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ



The Nihang is smiling at me. He is pleased.

All this is at least distracting. My knee doesn't seem to hurt quite as much.

And I can feel Mani and Sandeep with me. My lovely shaheeds.

They used wander around the house singing Jap Ji Sahib. Mani had the whole thing memorised. Used to. Do they still do that where they are now?

My heart breaks, but I have to persist. They are dead. Shaheeds. And I am still Khalsa in Maya. Damn It!

(Note from 2007: I feel the need to add this note. The English translation of the Mool Mantar is:

One Universal Creator God. The Name Is Truth. Creative Being Personified. No Fear. No Hatred. Image Of The Undying, Beyond Birth, Self-Existent. By Guru's Grace. It is the root (mool) statement of belief of the Sikh religion.. I am going to try to put in a link to actually hear it. This is from the movie Rang De Basanti and includes a short meditation following the Mantar itself.)

ਜਪੁ
Jap.
Chant And Meditate:


ਆਦਿ ਸਚੁ ਜੁਗਾਦਿ ਸਚੁ
aad sach jugaad sach
True In The Primal Beginning. True Throughout The Ages.


ਹੈ ਭੀ ਸਚੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਹੋਸੀ ਭੀ ਸਚੁ ॥੧॥

hai bhee sach nanaak hosee bhee sach
True Here And Now. O Nanak, Forever And Ever True. 1

ਸੋਚੈ ਸੋਚਿ ਨ ਹੋਵਈ ਜੇ ਸੋਚੀ ਲਖ ਵਾਰ .
sochai soch na hova-ee jay sochee lakh vaar
By thinking, He cannot be reduced to thought, even by thinking hundreds of thousands of times.


ਚੁਪੈ ਚੁਪ ਨ ਹੋਵਈ ਜੇ ਲਾਇ ਰਹਾ ਲਿਵ ਤਾਰ
chupai chup na hova-ee jay laa-ay rahaa liv taar
By remaining silent, inner silence is not obtained, even by remaining lovingly absorbed deep within.


ਭੁਖਿਆ ਭੁਖ ਨ ਉਤਰੀ ਜੇ ਬੰਨਾ ਪੁਰੀਆ ਭਾਰ
bhukhi-aa na utree jay bannaa puree-aa bhaar
The hunger of the hungry is not appeased, even by piling up loads of worldly goods.


ਸਹਸ ਸਿਆਣਪਾ ਲਖ ਹੋਹਿ ਤ ਇਕ ਨ ਚਲੈ ਨਾਲਿ
sahas si-aanpaa lakh hohi ta ik na chalai naal
Hundreds of thousands of clever tricks, but not even one of them will go along with you in the end.


ਕਿਵ ਸਚਿਆਰਾ ਹੋਈਐ ਕਿਵ ਕੂੜੈ ਤੁਟੈ ਪਾਲਿ
Kiv sachi-aaraa ho-ee-ai kiv koorhai tutai paal
So how can you become truthful? And how can the veil of illusion be torn away?


ਹੁਕਮਿ ਰਜਾਈ ਚਲਣਾ ਨਾਨਕ ਲਿਖਿਆ ਨਾਲਿ ॥੧॥

hukam rajaa-ee chalnaa naanak likhi-aa naal
O Nanak, it is written that you shall obey the Hukam of His Command, and walk in the Way of His Will. 1

01___IK_ONKAAR.mp31384K Play Download

20 DECEMBER 1984

I have decided to write a haiku. I read you gotta have a certain sanity and serenity to count syllables and think of seasons. I have been thinking and I think I have the syllables right. Classic 5-7-5: Season: Autumn, implied but not stated. No humans, just nature. hahahahahaha!!

Leaves and bodies fall.
Smell of urine and dung.
Lions burn brightly.

Serene and sane.

The nihang looks at me, expressionless.

Then he grins and starts laughing.

How did you die, Mr. Nihang Singh Ji?

Sardar Nihang Singh Ji. That sounds better.

Lunchtime. I hate eating. They bring us food from home. I know it is delicious. They are all great cooks. But it all tastes like ashes and [expletive deleted]. The liquids , even water, wreaks of blood. They can't understand. I eat just enough that they don't get mad at me, somehow I keep it down usually. Not always though.

Poor Suni. She has to eat enough to keep making milk for the baby, our Hope. She is a symbol to us and she has to be strong and healthy. It is amazing that Suni can make good milk in her shape. But that baby is what we have left and she must have the best. The best. So Suni tries to laugh and play with her like nothing is wrong. She sings her lullabies in Punjabi about Gurus protecting her and keeping her safe. Her voice is so sweet and gentle. I wish I could sing. I wish they would let me walk or at least stand up. Every day Maman comes and moves the knee back and forth. It hurts, but not unbearably. I don't complain because I'm afraid they'll make me take more painkillers. I'd rather have the pain. I move the foot around. She holds the knee while I move the upper leg. I do not want the muscles to get too weak.

I have insisted and they're helping me with some therapy for my arms and torso. But I have to go easy on the abdomen because they did a lot of surgery there. I would like to do some weights on the arms but they won't let me because of the weakness in my stomach from all their cutting on me.

I want to get very strong and totally recovered and go back and hunt down those bastards and kill them personally. One by one. The nihang is looking at me. I can't read his expression. Today is a day I feel I can handle everything. Khalsa woman lives!!

Posted by Mai at 1:52 PM 0 comments Links to this post

Labels: 20 December 1984

21 DECEMBER 1984

I believe I have this all figured out. I understand it completely. It is a dream. A nightmare. I am just having a bad dream.

Soon I will wake up in our bedroom with the mountains all around me and the sun about to rise. I will reach up and pull until I uncover Mani's hair and then I'll pull his jura loose. He'll grunt at me, still asleep. Then, half awake, smile and open his eyes, and...

Posted by Mai at 2:25 PM 0 comments Links to this post

Labels: 21 December 1984

22 DECEMBER 1984

I wasn't totally wrong yesterday. Or totally deluded. Maya is a sort of dream, nightmare.

Somedays I think I am entirely sane. Other days I am completely crazy. As in having no reality base. I believe in the impossible.

Today I am sane. I do not believe in any of that garbage. None of it. The nihang does not exist. He is a delusion. Completely. Nonetheless, I see him standing over there, looking at me curiously. My mind - and Suni's - have concoted him as a sort of mirror of our feelings. Suni insists that he is real. That he lived and died and has voluntarily returned to Maya to help and guide us. She is crazy as a loon!

I just realised something. It is almost Christmas. My number one Christmas memory is the first Christmas after Sandy (Sandeep - he hated being called Sandy, he kept telling me he wasn't an old-time baseball pitcher (Sandy Koufax) and Sandeep was the perfect name Guruji chose for him and would I please stop calling him Sandy and use his correct name? OK, Son, you have it. Sandeep.) Anyway, he came home and asked if we were Christians and when we said, of course not, he demanded why did we celebrate Christmas. Mani tried to explain about it being a time for family and to give each other presents and to have fun, but those big grey eyes kept staring into his dad's big grey eyes and he wasn't buying it. He was right, of course, but who ever heard of a six-year-old throwing away Christmas? And his grampa looked so much like Santa Claus, except not fat. Sandeep refused to be in the school Christmas pageant. And we stopped celebrating Christmas.

And now my pure, young son has gone home. Christmas is not an issue there, I'm sure.

I wish I could spend some time with Guru Ji. I can't bow I can't even stand. But so much I would like to take a Hukamnama and try to meditate on it. I think I could meditate. Or at least make the effort.

I long so much for some normalcy. I want to go for a walk. I want food to taste good. I want a feeling of security and safety and nothing really bad can ever happen to me because really bad things happen to other people. ( 2007-Here is a drawing of a happy face crossed out.) I want, I want, I want...I want!

Is it real, Is it fake
Is this game of life a mistake?
Life had broken my pretty balloon.
It happened,
Suddenly it just happened,
The Happening.

Labels: 22 December 1984

Re: After 1984, The Deluge

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

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

Click here to read the whole unexpurgated journal.


First please read Part Two.

12 DECEMBER 1984

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

Remembering, remembering...

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

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

OF THE WORLD!!!

Mani: BOLE SO NIHAL

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

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

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

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

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


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

Cause we are the champions...(Choke)

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

Labels: 12 December 1984

13 DECEMBER 1984

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

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

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

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

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

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

MANI, COME BACK, PLEASE COME

BACK... I CAN'T EVEN

DREAM ABOUT YOU. I CAN'T CRY

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

Labels: 13 December 1984

15 DECEMBER 1984

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

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

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

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

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

16 DECEMBER 1984

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

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

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

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

Vahiguru Vahiguru

ਵਾਹਿਗੁਰੂ ਵਾਹਿਗੁਰੂ

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

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