Two men who needed help up a steep rock in British Columbia were saved thanks to a group of Sikh men who unravelled and removed their turbans to create a makeshift rope. The steep rocks led to rough, raging waters near a waterfall. This reminded me of the role of the Sikhs in the past saving Hindi women from the Mughals. This also reminded me of those who killed, raped and maimed Sikh women in Delhi says research-scholar at the Sikh Research Institute and celebrated author-poet Inni Kaur.

REMINISCENCE is the key to history, heritage and humanity. The talk of forgetting 1984 hurts. The thought of forgetting 1984 goes against normal human behaviour. Therefore, ask me not to forget, for, I remember….

India has a strange hold on me.
It is not my birthplace,
But
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 Sabad of Nanak.

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

The Genocide of 1984
Shattered this love.
Instantly, I grew up.

The world says:
Do not write.
Do not speak.
Forget about it.

If I agree,
Then…
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 the Mughals,
Is felt everywhere.

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

The news spreads like wildfire,
Across the 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 resound,
As the women rush back,
Into 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-principle.

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 before their eyes.

The country was in shell-shock,
At the brutality of this massacre,
Yet, no voice rose,
Against this massacre.

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

Thirty-seven 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 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 Ardas:
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 37th anniversary of the Genocide 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.

Note: Title design by author Inni Kaur