Google Translate in Punjabi

It seems my little vacation has been cut short by events.  Two new posts today.  Both good news.

First, I have been looking for a way to translate this blog into Punjabi for nearly four years.  Now there might be a way.  It's a long shot, but then my being here typing this is statistically impossible and here I am.

Google has a really cool service called "Google Translate" which translates web pages from one language to another very quickly.  So now when I get a Spanish or German or even Chinese.  But not Punjabi.  This must be corrected!

There is currently a petition to get Punjabi covered by Google Translate.  Google has a reputation of listening to its users. It is totally nonpolitical.  All it says is:  

We would like 'Google Translate' to create a language Punjabi. All the signatures, are willing to use this feature, if created. 

Please sign it at:

http://www.gopetition.com/petitions/google-translate-in-punjabi/sign.html

Wordless Wednesday - Golden Temple Fish

9Pgoldentemple-fish1, originally uploaded by Liz Highleyman.

Photo by Liz Highleyman
Used under a Creative Commons License

"I AM I, MANI SINGH!"

I am on hiatus, but this story just begs to be told.  So much tragedy on our last trip to India.  It wasn't all tragedy, though.  There were some funny moments that have tended to become lost amidst the blood and guts and glory.  This is one such moment. 
****************************************
Twenty-six years ago almost to the day, three very weary Sikhs landed in the Delhi International Airport.  The three, a man of 43, a woman of 34 and a boy of 13, really just wanted some quiet sleep after two days air journey from Montreal.  We three, of course.  I'm sure we looked less tired than we actually were.  Mani and Sandeep were both in bana, I was wearing a red silk Punjabi suit.  We looked very, very Sikh.  Mani was his usual 188cm (6 ft, 2 in) self, straight back, striding through the airport as if he owned it.  Sandeep - with a beginner's mustache, quite attractive and a few stray strands of hair on his chin, already taller than his 152 cm (5 ft.) mother - and I  trotted along beside him. Neither Mani nor I of us had been to India since the summer of 1969 and we didn't know what we would find.  It was Sandeep's first visit.  We knew, of course, about the tensions between us Sikhs and Indira's government and were very much aware of -  and supporters of - the Khalistan Movement.  We had even hoped that we might somehow be able to meet Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale ji.   Still we were unprepared for the feeling of coldness, even slight hostility toward us.  Nothing we could quite put our fingers on, but definitely something unpleasant in the air.

As we walked quickly through the airport, a weaselly little Hindu kept running alongside us barely able to keep up, jabbering on and on about, "It's 12 o'clock, Sardar."  No ji.

It was a bit annoying, but we ignored it and just kept going.  Finally, the gnarly weasel stepped directly in front of Mani.  I have to say this about the little creep, he had guts.  "He looked up at Mani, directly into his eyes, and said, "What do you think you're going to do?  Who do you think you are, anyway?"  Or something very close to that.  I gasped;  even Sandeep was taken aback.  I knew Mani was tired and might well lose his temper.  His left hand was on the hilt of kirpan and a scowl was on his face.  The weasel seemed to relise that he had made a mistake.  Others, too, noticed what was going on, and our immediate environment became very quiet.

This, of course, is not us.  Mani and Sandeep had turbans and I bear little resemblance to the luminous Sophia Loren

Mani was Mani.  He threw back his head and began singing, very loudly,

Oh the trumpets of glory
Now call me to ride,
Yes, the trumpets are calling to me,
And wherever I ride,
Ever staunch at my side
My squire (one arm around Sandeep's shoulders)
and
my lady(the other arm around my shoulders)
shall be!
I am I, Don Quixote

The Lord of la Mancha

We caught on and joined him in the song:

Our destiny calls and we go!
And the wild winds of fortune 

Shall carry us onward,
Oh, whithersoever they blow,

Whithersoever they blow,

Onward to glory we go!

By now, the weasel was groveling in front of us, shaking, obviously terrified.

But Mani wasn't finished.  He tossed back his head and bellowed:

BOLEEEEEEE SO NIHAAAAAAAL!!!!

For a split second, I was about as scared as the weasel , half expecting the cops to roughly arrest us or possibly herd us on the next plane back to Canada.  Nothing could have prepared me for what actually happened.

Loudly, from all sides, came the response,

SAT SHRI AKAAAAAAAAAAAL!!

Mani gave a last look of contempt at the little Hindu, by now just quivering jelly on the floor and tossed a coin at him.  

 Sandeep, very quietly, whispered at him, "Khalistan Zindabad."  I have often wonder how this whole incident sounded when told from his point of view.

We continued on through the airport, singing loudly that we were all Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha going onward to glory.

Even at the time, it felt like being in a very silly Bollywood movie.  Looking back, it seems even funnier than it was at the time.  I guess it could have gotten very serious if the officials had decided to make an incident out of it, but someone was watching over us, I guess, and there were no bad repercussions, just a lot of giggles.

So those of you who know me well and have heard me burst out with "I am I, Don Quixote..." for no apparent reason now know the rest of the story.

The section with that contains the "I Am I" song  that we sang starts 2:11 at in the following video, the song itself starts at 8:52 (fortunately, Mani did not drop dead while singing).  Please listen and imagine the three of us and the weasel at the airport.:

The video is from the 1972 movie, The Man of La Mancha, which I highly recommend.  The song, "The Impossible Dream" has been an important part of my life since I first heard it.  The woman who plays my part is the very lovely Sophia Loren at the height of her beauty.

"What is illness to the body of a Knight Errant?
What matter wounds?

He rises where he has fallen and 

WOE TO THE WICKED!!"

A FEW SIKHTOONS

SKIHTOONS.  Until someone gives me a good reason to resume writing, enjoy the Sikhtoons.

With much thanks to Vishavjit Singh, who graciously lets his Sikhtoons to be published all over Sikh sites on the 'Net.

I NEED A BREAK

VAHEGURU JI KA KHALSA!  VAHEGURU JI KI FATEH!!

So much ugliness going on in the Panth right now.  I see nothing that I can write right now that won't increase the divisiveness and the in-fighting.  I refuse to participate in this destructive behaviour.  I will make just a few statements on where I stand.

I use the Sikh Rehat Maryada as the blueprint for my daily life.

I believe that all Sikhs should either be Amritdhari or working toward that as a goal.  I do not, however, judge or condemn those who are not.  Each of us is where s/he is on this journey and it is not for me to judge.

All that happens is the Hukam of Vaheguru.

I support the establishment of Khalistan as an independent nation as the Sikh homeland.   I have decided to take a break from writing.

In the fight between Akaal Takht and Darshan Singh, there is enough blame to go around.

In Vaisakhi parades, in fact in all Sikh events, we have the right to display pictures of whomever we choose.

A kirpan used as an offensive weapon ceases to be an article of faith and becomes just a knife or a sword.

I hope the proven innocence of the granthi in Canada accused of rape is widely publicised.  (It won't be.)

No enemy from outside can ever defeat the Sikhs, especially the Khalsa.

I wish my sisters and brothers would quit fighting.  I refuse to take sides.  I cannot take sides.  "When your brothers and sisters are fighting, do you want them to kill each other, or do you just want them to stop?"

I am learning to make GIF animations.  Be kind, I am a beginner.

I have made one on a subject that all Sikhs that I know can agree with.



I am taking a vacation.  When the air clears enough for me to breathe I'll be back.

WHEN IS A KIRPAN NOT A KIRPAN?

My heart is broken - again.

I have been doing my best to stay out of the current controversy that seems to be engulfing the Panth these days.  I refer, of course, to that involving the following elements, stated as succinctly and politely as possible:

Akal Takht

Darshan Singh

Blaspheme (or not)

Dasam Granth

False evidence (or not)

Excommunication

What happened in Brampton/Toronto over the weekend, however, has compelled me to come forward.

Opponents of Darshan Singh and supporters of him were involved in a violent, very public brawl at Sikh Lehar Centre Gurudwara there.  Turbans were torn off, kirpans were drawn and when it was over, Manjit Mangat, President of the gurudwara sahib

was in hospital with stab wounds to the abdomen, thighs and legs and a cut caused by a kara on his face.  There are some pictures at the first link, along with the story.

But, wait!  There is something very wrong here. No one was attacked with a kirpan and no one ever will be. In the very instance that a kirpan is used as an aggressive weapon, it ceases to be a kirpan, an article of faith; it is merely a knife or a dagger or a sword. And the person who wields it ceases to be a Gursikh and becomes a common criminal, a thug.  These thugs must be treated as the criminals that they are.

I realise that this is a distinction that will be lost on the general public, but it must be made here, among us Sikhs. I also realise I am leaving myself open to attack for bluntly stating this, but it is the truth and, I am certain, the opinion of the vast majority of Sikhs who are good, peaceable, law-biding citizens of the respective countries. There are much better ways of resolving our differences, however compelling those differences may be they may be, than stabbing each other with what should be an article of faith.  How many times have we argued that a kirpan is a sacred Article of Faith, never to be used for any purpose aside from defence.  Today, that argument seems a bit hollow. 


Please read the article at the last link above;  pay extra attention to the comments (356 as I write) to see how the nonSikh Canadians are responding.  On the whole, I get the impression that they don't much like us.

I am neither saying nor implying that a kirpan can never be used as a weapon.  I have used mine when there was no other alternative to cut the throat of a member of a mob killing Sikhs during the Delhi Pogrom 1984.

I drew my kirpan recently when there was no alternative in the parking lot of our local WalMart when I was attacked by a career criminal drug addict  trying to steal my "drugs."  (In fact, there was nothing that he could possibly have enjoyed among my medicines, but he didn't know that.)  I held him until the police came without injuring him.

Both of these incidents are recorded in this blog.

Also it cannot be overlooked that a kara was also used as an offensive weapon.  Vaheguru!  Is there no end to this?

Photo of Manjit Mangat from  The Star.com
Kirpan courtesy of Narayanjot Kaur