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