must read

religion section close karta es karke eh poem ethe pa reha

India has a strange hold on me.
It is not my birthplace,
It is in my soul.

I hear the bell of Krishna;
I hear the call of Muhammad;
I hear the chant of Buddha;
I hear the Shabad of Guru Nanak.

I have knelt on its soil;
I have kissed its ground.
I yearn
To be mingled with its dust.

The pogroms of 1984
Shattered this love.
Instantly ,i grew up.

They say:
Do not write;
Do not speak;
Forget about it.

If i agree,
In my silence
Lies my guilt.

As long as I draw breath,
As long as there is strength within me,
I will write,
I will speak.
For I remember...

I Remember...
The year is 1739.
Hindustan is in terror.
The cruelty of Mughals
Is felt everywhere.

Nadir Shah is in Delhi
Looting the treasures,
Carting away twenty-two hundred Hindu women
For his private harem.

The news spreads like wildfire
Across this great land.
Helplessness and confusion
Reign supreme.

Sardar Jassa Singh,
Commander of the Sikh army,
Hears of this atrocity,
Vows to take a stand.

The Sikhs are a minority;
The Mughals have the upper hand.
Despite this disparity,
A midnight attack is planned.
The Mughal camp is asleep;
The Sikhs wait in silence.
At the stroke of midnight,
They begin the attack.

Kirpans are in the air;
The Mughals are caught off-guard.
The women are freed
And safely brought back.
In Hindu households,
Sighs of relief are heard
As the women rush back
To the arms of their loved ones.

There are Sikh casualties,
But there are no tears;
To uphold a woman's honour
Is the Sikh dharam.

From that day on,
A pattern emerged:
The Sikhs struck at midnight
To free the captured women.

Every night, the women prayed
For the safety of the Sikhs.
Mothers told their daughters,
"Trust only a Sikh."

Hindu mothers, with love,
Made their first-born sons Sikhs.
A sacred trust existed
Between a Hindu and a Sikh.

Through the centuries,
This trust and love continued,
Until the forces of evil
Raised their ugly head.

The year is 1984,
The unthinkable happened:
Our Hindu brothers
Turned on us.

Sikh women were raped;
Their fathers, husbands,
Sons and brothers
Butchered in front of their eyes.

The country was in shell-shock
At the brutality of this massacre;
Yet, no voice rose
To speak against this massacre.

I ask my Hindu sisters:
"Where were you?
Did your hearts not bleed
At the rape of your sisters?"

Twenty five years have gone by.
The pain has not diminished.
There are no answers
To what happened in 1984.

To my Hindu sisters,
I have one request:
Tell your sons, husbands and brothers
The sacrifices of the Sikhs.

To my Sikh brothers,
I need not remind you:
You are bound by our Guru
To protect the weak.

No Sikh hand will rise
Against any woman;
Be she a Hindu or a Muslim,
She has the protection of a Sikh.

My Ardaas:
Let the winds be gentle;
Let there be peace on this land;
Let this shattered trust
Be given a chance to grow.
But ask me not to forget,
For I remember...

On this 25th anniversary of the Pogroms of 1984, I reflect on the courage of the non-Sikhs who protected the Sikhs.

You are our unsung heroes.
I salute your bravery;
I salute your goodness;
I salute your morality.

But please, oh please..ask me not to forget,
For I remember...



Prime VIP
You are our unsung heroes.
I salute your bravery;
I salute your goodness;
I salute your morality.

But please, oh please..ask me not to forget,
For I remember..