Friday, October 06, 2006

A Better Place

Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh

Waheguru Ji.. Waheguru

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This story was written by Amritpal Singh a few years ago for the West Coast Sikh Youth Alliance resource magazine.

Originally taken from: http://a-fine-balance.blogspot.com/


A Better Place

"Arjun!
Arjun!"

Maninder's calls for her son upset the silence of yet another calm evening. As she walked down the stairs she noticed that the last remnants of the previous night's storm were barely visible. Such a storm was highly unusual for the beginning of June. It was as if the heavens had let out a repugnant wail and showered the earth with tears. Instantly, it seemed the gali had been turned into a muddy river. Maninder and Arjun had been sleeping outside at the time and the storm had caught them off guard. The instant Maninder tasted tears other than her own, she quickly put Arjun to bed inside. She moved her manji under cover and ran downstairs to prevent her few belongings from flowing out to the sea. The morning sun had dried up the tears just as rapidly as they were shed. Maninder had spent the better part of the day repairing the damage the storm had done. As she continued down the stairs, she thought to herself how quickly things change. Nothing is permanent.

Now, all was quiet in the gali as the curfew had taken effect after sunset. Even the normally immutable barking of Pundit Sharma's dog next door was absent. Rocky, like Pundit Sharma, was a law abiding canine that understood these curfews were a matter of national defense. Soon Ram, the chaunkidar would be making his rounds blowing his whistle and dragging his stick. Every night, the rhythmic chirp of Ram's whistle and the grating of his stick against the unpaved gali road would give Maninder peace of mind. For a measly few rupees a month, Ram's rhythmic chirping provided protection from goondas. Since the unrest started however, Ram's chirping seemed unnecessary. With soldiers and the occasional tank stationed at every corner, goondas were the least of everyone's worries. However, Maninder continued to pay Ram each month. His nightly rounds provided somewhat of an escape from the deafening silence of the frequent curfews. Furthermore, Ram needed the money. The higher caste Hindus in the gali, such as Pundit Sharma refused to pay him. He had no right to ask them for money; It was his duty to protect them (without soiling their property with his shadow of course). Ram was powerless. He was in Amritsar, far from his village, to make money for his family. Each month he would send all his earnings home so his daughter could go to school. He had told Maninder of his aspirations for his daughter one-day while collecting his fee. "I want her to have the best education possible Bhenji. Who knows, maybe she will be the first low-caste prime minister. You know Bhenji, I was the only one in my village to distribute sweets for a daughter being born. The others thought I was crazy! They gave me dirty looks. How could I not distribute sweets on such a joyous occasion?"

"Arjun is with me baitee," Maninder's mother-in-law called out from the drawing room. Maninder approached the drawing room with a sense of relief. With the curfew, she was always worried about his whereabouts. She stood at the door and watched as Arjun sat impatiently in his grandmother's lap. He was awaiting his favorite Sakhi. "Tell me Dadima, tell me why you chose my name." Each night without fail, Arjun would listen to this Sakhi with complete concentration and utter wonderment. Each night without fail, his grandmother Manjit would provide a twist, a variation in consonance and it would seem to Arjun as if he was hearing the Sakhi for the first time.

"Well, you my dear are named after the Great Sri Guru Arjun Dev Ji," she began as she slowly took the tangles out of his long hair. "He was the first Sikh Shaheed." "What does Shaheed mean Dadima?" Arjun asked with an inquisitive look. To Manjit's amusement, Arjun would ask this question every night. There was something about the manner in which Manjit answered, the distant look in her eyes as if she were in a much better place, that would cause a warm tingling feeling to spread down Arjun's spine. "A Shaheed, my love, is someone who sacrifices his or her life for his or her beliefs. Regardless of the torture or pain faced, a Shaheed never sacrifices his or her principles and welcomes death with open arms." Arjun began massaging Manjit's feet. They had become quite callous over the years. Each crack, each crevice on her dry skin was the result of a lifetime of struggles.

"Guru Arjun Dev Ji was our fifth Guru. In the early sixteen hundreds his arrest was ordered by the King, Jahangir. They wanted to spread Islam throughout the land, and they saw our Guru as a threat. He ordered our Guru to embrace Islam and to write words in praise of prophet Mohammed in the Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. Guru Ji refused to do so. Thus, he was tortured. On the first day, they forced Guru Ji to sit on the hot summer sand. The next day they sat him in a cauldron of boiling water. On the third day they sat him on a hot plate and poured hot sand over his head. Guru Ji uttered not one word other than the name of God. He embraced his torture calmly and in deep meditation."

"Didn't he feel any pain Dadima?" Arjun asked.

"One who is merged with the Infinite does not feel any pain my love. He or she only feels bliss, a sweetness beyond all our imagination." Arjun's spine tingled once again as that distance look returned to Manjit's eyes.

"What happened next Dadima?" Arjun asked as he quickly settled back into Manjit's lap.
"Well, Guru Ji's torturers realized that they could not sway him from his principles. They made him sit in the cold water of the Ravi river. Guru Ji was too weak physically to endure this and his soul merged with the ocean of Truth. So you see my love, regardless of the amount of torture, Guru Ji refused to compromise his principles. He had the power to do so, only through the meditation on the name of Akal Purakh. Your papa named you Arjun so that you may always remember to stand up for what you believe in."

Manjit froze. She had not meant to bring Arjun's father into the conversation. She hoped that Arjun had not picked up on it. She watched him as he slowly registered the last part of the Sakhi.

"Dadima."
"Yes dear"

"When is papa coming home?" Upon hearing this question, Maninder quickly walked in to reassure her son. "Soon, very soon," she said as she kissed Arjun's head and began stroking his hair. "Your papa phoned Chacha Ji's house today and said that he is coming home very soon. He also said that he has bought you a big toy!"

"Really mummy? What kind of toy?"
"A big toy tank!" she responded with an awareness of the irony of her answer. The look on her mother-in-law's face revealed that the irony was not lost on her either.

"Yippee! A toy tank!" Arjun screamed with excitement and ran around the room pretending to drive his tank. He had become quite good at playing this game. He knew that his father was not away on a trip. He was awake the night the police had come and taken him away. He remembered it clearly, the police, under the watchful eye of Pundit Sharma (he had instantly become an expert on police matters) broke through the doors in the middle of the night. They accused Arjun's father of hiding weapons and providing shelter to terrorists. They beat him badly. They pulled on his beard and stomped on his turban. They beat him until he was unconscious. All of this was done in front of Manjit as they had tied her up and forced her eyes open with tape. They then dragged Maninder to the bedroom. The shrieking of his mother was still etched in Arjun's head. He remembers peering from the top of the stairs as different men would walk in and out of the bedroom. When each policeman walked in, Maninder's screaming would return. After a few hours, the screaming had turned into a weak whimper. They then had put Arjun's father in a jeep and driven away. Shortly after, Arjun remembered hearing the chirping of Ram's whistle, protecting the gali from goondas.

Manjit thought that Arjun had slept through the night and invented a story about his father going on a trip. Arjun went along with it. He knew that it would make things easier. So, periodically he would ask when his father would return. Doing so, he thought, would make it seem as though he believed the story. Maninder did not talk for weeks after that night. She would spend her days staring into space and her nights sobbing with the skies. Arjun could not decide what had been worse, her painful silence or the stream of tears. He remembered being relieved nightly by the first sounds of her crying as at least she was showing some emotion, some life. He remembered the feeling of utter helplessness when the sounds were still there to greet him each morning.

"That's enough for one night Arjun, get ready for bed." said Manjit as she got her Gootka and began Kirtan Sohila. Arjun quickly got ready for bed and lay down beside her.

Ik Onkar sat gur prasad
Jai ghar kirat akhiai, karte ka hoe bicharo
ghar gavoh sohila, svrihu sirjanharo...

Arjun fell asleep to the sweetness of Manjit's prayer. That night his dreams were full of quite a mixture of images: images of Sri Guru Arjun Dev Ji sitting on a hot plate deep in meditation, images of tanks, images of the distant gaze in his Dadima's eyes.

"Time to wake up son." Maninder's gentle voice brought Arjun out of his dreams. Although disappointed to no longer be dreaming, Arjun was not upset. He enjoyed nothing more than being awoken to the softness of his mother's voice. "Can I stay in bed a little while longer mummy?" Arjun asked with a sheepish grin. He wanted to sleep in until the cha was ready. Maninder only let Arjun drink cha on occasion. She knew the caffeine was bad for him, but sometimes she could not resist his constant pleading. Manjit warned her that she was spoiling the boy but even she enjoyed watching Arjun as he drank his cha. He loved imitating his father, whose regular routine was to drink his cha with the morning paper. Arjun would get the paper, sit in his father's chair and browse through the pages while taking infrequent sips from his father's cup. Occasionally he would dip a cookie into his cha, only to have it break off before he could take it out. Then, like his father he would use a spoon to eat the soggy remains of the cookie. Maninder and Manjit had made a habit of just sitting quietly and watching him act like his father. It was not unusual for both to be in tears by the end of his cup. They both understood that all they had now were memories and Arjun's innocent imitations.

Wise to her son's intentions, Maninder knew just the thing that would get him out of bed quickly. "If you don't hurry, Dadima is going to start Japji Sahib without you." As expected, Arjun jumped out of bed and ran downstairs for a bath. He loved reading Japji Sahib with his Dadima. Together they would take turns reading the lines. He frequently tried to mimic his grandmother's tranquil state while reading. Each word would roll off her tongue slowly, purposefully as if she wanted to make sure each breath was deserving of the prayer The concentration with which she could pray amazed Arjun. What was even more amazing to him was that her focus was seemingly effortless.

Arjun bathed and quickly got dressed. He covered his head and settled in his Dadima's lap. "You're a little late today my love," Manjit said as she took her Gootka out of its protective covering. "Sorry Dadima, I decided to use soap today so it took me a little longer," Arjun quipped with his trademark grin. She laughed and gently hit his head. Both began to read.

Ik Onkar
Satnam
Karta Purkh...

Upon completing prayers, Manjit told Arjun to quickly eat breakfast and tie his patka. They were going to the Harimandir Sahib. It was the third of June, the anniversary of the martyrdom of Sri Guru Arjun Dev Ji and the government had decided to lift the curfew to allow pilgrims to visit the Harimandir Sahib. Maninder expressed her concerns fearing that it would not be safe. However, Manjit would hear none of it. "Even the government realizes how important today is for us. That is why they have lifted the curfew. If there was any threat of violence, why would they allow us to enter?"
After a little more unsuccessful pleading, Maninder gave up as she knew her mother-in-law would not be swayed. Furthermore, Arjun had already tied his kesri patka in anticipation and could hardly contain his excitement. It would not be fair to make him stay home, Maninder reasoned. She would not be able to bear the disappointment on his face.

The Harimandir Sahib was about 20 minutes away by foot. The galis were relatively quiet. As they walked, Arjun began to notice an increasing amount of soldiers and policemen positioned at various corners. Most of them had big rifles hanging by a strap around their shoulders. Some even had round things attached to their belts. Arjun had seen these before in a movie. The men in the movie would pull out a pin and throw them at the enemy resulting in a big explosion. Many of the men would smile at Arjun as he walked by and then turn to each other and laugh. All this made Arjun nervous. He questioned his Dadima as to why all these men were everywhere.

"Don't worry my love," she replied with her usual calming tone. "These men are here to protect us. They know today is an important day. Thousands of people are going to be at Harimandir Sahib. These men just want to make sure everything goes well." Arjun was reassured by his Dadima's words but there was still something very unsettling about the way the men smiled at him. He was reminded of the smiles of the men who took his father away. He was reminded of the way the men would smile after walking out of the bedroom in which his mother was screaming.

They entered the gates, took off their shoes and began washing their feet. Suddenly, a woman about Manjit's age approached them. She was in a frantic state. "Have you seen my son?" she cried as she showed them a picture. "He told me he was going to Harimandir Sahib, he has not come back. It has been over two months. I go to the bus stop everyday. He never comes. Have you seen him? Bhenji, have you seen him?" Not allowing Manjit to answer, she began to laugh deliriously. "He will come. He cannot leave his mother. You cannot hide him forever. He will come. I will go to the bus stop tomorrow. He will be there." She walked away laughing and waving her cane. "He will come. He cannot leave his mother." As Manjit and Arjun walked towards the Parkarma, they could still here the echoes of the woman's laughter.

The day passed by relatively quickly. Arjun and Manjit spent most of it doing Seva. Arjun loved doing Seva with his Dadima although at times he found it quite tiring. He was amazed at how his Dadima would find the strength to do Seva for hours at a time. What was even more amazing to him was that she would do it in constant meditation. In perfect rhythm the words would leave her tongue. "Satnam, Waheguru...Satnam, Waheguru." Each action, each breath was slow and calculated. Nothing was rushed.

Evening had come and Arjun and Manjit were getting ready to head home. As they headed toward the main gates, a woman ran towards them and told them to stop. "Bhenji, where are you going?" she asked as she tried to catch her breath. "We are about to head home" Manjit answered with a sense of hesitation. She sensed something was amiss.
"Haven't you heard? The whole complex has been blocked off. No one is allowed in or out."

"Why would they impose a curfew now after letting all of us in?" Manjit asked. She did not need an answer however, the look on the woman's face was enough. They had been sucked into a black hole. "Please come with me Bhenji, there is no time to waste. We are gathering in the Harimandir Sahib to take shelter and pray." Manjit and Arjun followed the woman across the bridge from the surrounding Parkarma to the Harimandir Sahib. Arjun was not quite sure what was going on so he kept quiet and stayed close to his Dadima. As he walked over the bridge, he noticed how peaceful and radiant the Harimandir Sahib looked in the emerging moonlight.

As they entered the Harimandir Sahib, they were greeted by the most harmonious of sounds. About fifty or sixty pilgrims had gathered inside and were meditating in unison. All had their eyes closed and were oblivious to their surroundings. Arjun was reminded of his Dadima's meditation during Seva. "Satnam Waheguru...Satnam, Waheguru." In the words lay a rhythm of perfection that pleased the ears and melted the heart. Manjit and Arjun made their way to the upper floor, sat down and joined the others. "Satnam, Waheguru..."

Hours passed by. Some of the pilgrims remained in meditation. Others just stared out into space searching for answers to questions they could not fathom. Arjun had fallen asleep in his Dadima's lap and continued to cling to Manjit's suit in his sleep. Outside it was silent. The birds of the night that normally feasted on food left for them by the Sevadars were absent as was the chirping of the of the city's countless number of crickets. Manjit was becoming quite anxious. She knew that Maninder would be a helpless wreck by now. Arjun was her whole world; without him she would cease to exist. Manjit knew she had to get Arjun home, regardless of the cost to herself.

While still deep in thought, Manjit peered out a crack in one of the windows. The Parkarma was vacant. She saw a few shadows moving close to the Akal Takht. They were older women and they seemed to be looking for better shelter. Suddenly, the shadows were no longer. They disappeared along with all other light in the complex. There was a complete blackout. Even the moon hid behind a cover of clouds as if in refusal to witness what was about to take place. The pilgrims inside the Harimandir Sahib continued to meditate.

The silence continued for another hour and then without any warning, the earth shook. Arjun was thrown out of Manjit's lap and against a wall. He began to wail not from the pain but from utter confusion. Screams could be heard throughout the complex. The army's attack had begun. Explosions continued at a frantic pace. No area of the complex was spared. The army shells were indiscriminate, unconcerned whether their targets were being used as shelters for pilgrims. Manjit and Arjun huddled together in a corner and closed their eyes. With each explosion, Manjit became more distressed; the next army shell could easily be heading their way.

The bombing continued throughout the rest of the night and into the morning. Manjit became more and more convinced that after destroying the rest of the complex, the army would come for the Harimandir Sahib. They could not stay there. They would have to escape somehow. Arjun remained huddled in a corner. He did not say a word nor open his eyes. He could not bear to see the suffering that he was hearing. Machine gun fire and the thunderous roar of helicopters had now joined the sounds of army shells exploding. As the army's attack intensified, the screams of the pilgrims slowly began to decrease in intensity.

Night fell and Manjit decided that it was too dangerous to stay in the Harimandir Sahib. Surrounded by the Sarovar, it would be impossible to escape once the army came their way. She quickly explained her plan to Arjun. "Arjun, we have to leave this place. It is too dangerous here. We are going to crawl on our stomachs across the bridge leading to the Parkarma. I need you to promise me that you will follow me and do as I say."

Arjun did not answer. He just sat there cross-legged, rocking back and forth. "Arjun my dear, can you promise me?" Arjun remained silent and just rocked back and forth while staring straight ahead. Manjit realized that he was in shock but she knew she didn't have the time to try and snap him out of it. She took his hand and led him downstairs and towards the main door. It was pitch black outside and the army's attack seemed to have subsided momentarily. Manjit got on her stomach, put Arjun on her back and began to crawl across the bridge and towards the Parkarma.

About one third of the way, Manjit was exhausted. She stopped to rest. It had been almost 30 hours since she had last drank any water. It was quite difficult for her to carry Arjun on her back while crawling. As she tried to quickly catch her breath, she heard the sounds of a helicopter's engine starting up in the distance. Frantically, she put Arjun on her back and continued to crawl. The helicopter was now in the air and approaching the bridge. Manjit tried to increase her speed but was unable to. Her old and tired body could take no more abuse. The helicopter hovered over the bridge and made a circle of light around it. It was making a target for the firing squads of the army. Somewhere in the distance, Manjit heard the firing of a cannon. It was over she thought. Her time had come to an end.

The cannon bell missed the bridge and landed in the Sarovar. A huge explosion followed and water was thrown at least thirty feet in the air. Arjun ended his silence and began to scream. The helicopter began to circle and adjust its target. Manjit knew that they would not be this lucky again. They needed to get to the Parkarma.

"Arjun, you must listen to me," she screamed. "Remember the strength of Sri Guru Arjun Dev Ji. He had the courage to face his torture head on. You must display this courage my son. You must make your Papa proud, and you must make your Guru proud. Can you do this for me?"

Arjun was silent. "Can you do this for me?" Manjit screamed again as she shook Arjun violently to try and free him from his silence.

"Yes Dadima," Arjun answered and without waiting for Manjit's instructions he got on his stomach and began to crawl. While he crawled, he began to sing. "Satnam, Waheguru...Satnam, Waheguru."

They were able to get to the Parkarma before the next cannon shot was fired. They quickly ran towards the Akal Takht. Pilgrims in a room on the ground floor heard them approaching and pulled them inside.

Upon entering the room, the smell of sweat and the sting of gunpowder almost overwhelmed Arjun. The room was full of pilgrims packed shoulder to shoulder. Arjun could not make out any faces as it was too dark. Arjun took a spot next to an elderly man and his wife. The man was crying. Arjun did not say anything at first and tried to block out the sounds of his sobbing. As moments passed, Arjun felt increasingly uneasy. He could not ignore the man's sorrow.

"Why are you crying Pitha Ji?" Arjun asked as he took a hold of the man's hand. The man's hands were quite frail. They failed in comparison, however, to the frailness of his voice as he began to speak.

"Look what they have done to the house of Nanak. They have transformed a place of love to one of butchery. The Sarovar where thousands of sons and daughters of the Guru have done ishnaan is now full of their lifeless bodies. Chants of Waheguru have been replaced by cries of suffering. The cold marble of the Parkarma has been stained with blood. This is not Nanak's house."

The man continued sobbing. Arjun wanted to do something to ease his pain. He quickly climbed into the man's lap and laid his head on the man's arm. Whenever his Dadima would cry, he would do the same thing and it always worked. Arjun would always fall asleep in his Dadima's lap and her tears would subside. Exhausted, thirsty and hungry, Arjun fell asleep in the man's arms to the backdrop of gunfire and bombs.

The bombing continued at intervals throughout the night. The departure of the moon and arrival of the morning sun did nothing to stem the attack. The army seemed to be focusing more and more on the Harimandir Sahib. Helicopters took turns making circles around it while firing. This was followed by heavy shelling, an attempt not to destroy the golden sheets of the Harimandir Sahib but to destroy the golden spirit of its visitors.

Arjun was awoken by a particularly fierce blast. He climbed out of the man's lap. He was still sleeping. Arjun could now see his face. He had a thick brow and a white bushy beard. Arjun wanted to wake him up and talk to him, but he seemed so at peace while asleep. Regardless, Arjun decided to wake him up. He tapped his shoulder and called out softly, "Pitha Ji, wake up." The man did not move. Arjun tried again, this time shaking the man's arm. The man did not respond. Arjun tried yet again, this time shaking a little harder and speaking a little louder, "Pitha Ji, please wake up." The man was motionless. By this time, some of the other pilgrims in the room had realized what had taken place. They quickly pulled Arjun away and lifted the man and carried him away. Arjun did not understand what had happened. He asked his Dadima but she would not answer. The man's wife was crying loudly. The man's tears had subsided; they had subsided forever.

Arjun lay in quiet contemplation the rest of the day. He was getting quite weak and no longer had the strength to speak. It had been almost two days since he had eaten or drunken anything. He began slipping in and out of consciousness. Manjit was very worried. She needed to get him water but going outside meant playing with death.

The frequency of firing began to decrease as evening approached. Then all of a sudden, a tank entered the complex under heavy firing. The tank had powerful searchlights. As the tank passed the Akal Takht, the pilgrims heard a loud announcement. "Please come out, God's blessing's are with you. We will return you home safe and sound." Manjit was frantic for water. She picked up Arjun, ran out of the room and towards the tank. Many others joined her. She fell while running. Arjun thought she had tripped and tried to pull her up. He noticed that her white suit was now becoming red. A soldier had shot her in the back. "Dadima!" Arjun began to scream. "Dadima!" She did not answer. Arjun looked in her eyes. That familiar look had returned. The distant look in her eyes as if she were in a better place.

Arjun stood there by his Dadima's bloodied body and cried. "Dadima, don't leave me!" he screamed over and over again. Suddenly, Arjun felt a sharp piercing pain, as if someone stuck a sharp knife into his back. Blood began to wet and stain his clothes. He too had become the recipient of a soldier's bullet. As he fell to the ground from the pain, Arjun saw a soldier standing beside his Dadima. The solider began to urinate on her and yelled out loudly, "How do you like your Amrit now?"

After some time, everything became white. Arjun didn't know whether his eyes were open or closed. He could not tell whether he was awake or asleep. He could not see beyond his own body, but in the distance Arjun saw a figure -someone approaching. It was a man on a blue horse. As the man got closer, Arjun could see that he was dressed like a king, yet his demeanor seemed
saintly. Finally, Arjun saw the man, and his spirit was as golden as Harimandir. Arjun saw the face, whose light shined brighter than the sun. He picked Arjun up and placed him on the horse and they began to ride off. As the likes of Pundit Sharma distributed sweets throughout India to celebrate the attack (as Ram had done to celebrate the birth of his daughter), Arjun and the man on the blue horse rode off to a much better place.

---

I got it from here.

Waheguru Waheguru Waheguru.. Waheguru Ji Waheguru Waheguru

bhullchukmaaf
Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh

11 Responses to “A Better Place”

satvinder said...

I read it.

Sometimes words don't do justice. So I'll say as little as possible, but yeah...moved. Completely and utterly moved.

Waheguru.

sskhalsa said...

Vaheguruu vaheguruu vaheguru

ss said...

Totally agree with Bhneji - sometimes you just have to read, take it in and comptemplate.

Thanks for contining to raise awareness - this is a very effective means of ensuring that we never forget and we continue to educate others.

Waheguru.

satvinder said...

Just mortified at the thought of human capablilty to hate.

Disgusted at the ability of ignorance.

Completely horrified. Completely.

Semi-existent said...

Waheguru..

satvinder said...

semi-existent ji...

there's a whole club out here...

barely existent...
kind of existent...
pending existence...
striving to survive...

Wrong post to say this under I know but heartstrings kinda went "ouchie" [in TR language]

Keep your spirits up... okey dokey. Uh, don't y'all just wish I would shut up sometimes...
[don't answer that okay (",)]

Singhstah said...

thanks for the link penji, I cant really read it right now, Ill be sure to do so later...

Singhstah said...

OH MY VAHEGUROOO
vaheguroo vaheguroo vaheguroo vaheguroo vaheguroooo vaheguroo vaheguroo vaheguroo vahegurooo
These DEMONS call the Khalsa terrorists,when they themselves are worse than rakhshaas. This is the sign of kaljug where such deeds are accepted and still havent been broight to justice.
KHALISTAN ZINDBAD
PARNAAM SHAHEEDA NOO
PARNAAM GURMUKHA NOO
BABBAR KHALSA ZINDABAD
PARNAAM JINDAY SHAHEEDA NOO, WHO GAVE UP EVERYTHING TO FREE OUR HOMELAND
PANTH KHALSA ZINDABAD
BOLAAAAAAAAAAAY SOOOOOOOOO NIHAAAAAAAAAAAAAL SATSRIAKAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Semi_Existent said...

Satvinder Bhenji..

Sorry for the late reply, I never looked back because i didn't realize someone would think anything of that sort.

My name in no way has anything to do with that. I was at one point in the stage of full existence, then i stopped existing all together, and now I'm slowly working my way back to existing. I will personally explain the significance of this once I exist again. It's kind of like an inside joke type of thing for now..

My spirits aren't down, and I'll try my best to stay in Chardi Kalaa. It makes me glad to know you care, but there's nothing for you to worry about.. =)

Once again, amazing post...

Waheguru!

satvinder said...

semi-existent ji...

I'm sorry if I read too much into your "title" (",) I suppose sometimes people pick up on things that they too experience in some form or another.

Glad that you are well.

"It makes me glad to know you *care*"

Glad I could make you glad (",)

Pogo ji said...

What a tragically touching story.

You should consider sharing this story with others - maybe send it in to magazines, so that others can read it.

You know, get the word out, let others know what happened.

Great story bhenji. Keep on writing, an God bless ur soul.

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