1984
1984 & I:
My People's Heart
by preeti kaur
This year, 2009, marks the 25th Anniversary of 1984, when horrendous crimes were committed against the Sikhs in the very land of their origin. To commemorate this sad milestone, we at sikhchic.com have asked our regular columnists, as well as our contributors and readers, to share with us the impact 1984 has had on their lives. We have requested personal stories and anecdotes, as well as an attempt to capture their inner thoughts and deepest ruminations on what 1984 means to each one of them and their loved ones - without going into a litany of facts and figures or a listing of the injustices to date, all of which will invariably be covered with due diligence elsewhere. We intend to present these personal perspectives to you throughout the twelve months of 2009. The following is the thirteenth in the series entitled "1984 & I".
In memory of the Sikhs of Punjab
massacred in June 1984
and the Sikhs of Delhi
massacred in November 1984
each spring
i plant a circle
of marigolds in my backyard
a golden garland
to honor remember weep
for my dead
each bright bud
a life
dipped in saffron nectar
smolders like the kesri turbans
which crown my people's heads
like an ember
like the city/ the village
on fire
on fire
like the gurdwara upon gurdwara
target
of torch and bullet
the land at the hand
of politician/ policeman/ mob leader
lit up
into cremation ground
the government
a giant match
strikes through
rakes through
the mud cake huts
the city homes
drags the flame
between the people's thighs
burns
burns
weds the people
to earth
through inferno and blaze
sends shiver to extinguish
the families
the tillers
commits the ultimate
sati
sati
how dare you
sati
on the streets
as the hindutva hordes
strip my brothers' turbans
douse long hair with oil
set their skulls on fire
to flee through the delhi alleys
sati
on the streets
as the hindutva hordes
hoist their lit spears
scorch
my sister's uterus
in delhi slum
live flame
threat in the face
of the dying city
massacre/ massacre
holy/ holy
how many/ how many
beloved
beloved
beloved
blood
flows from
my mother's heart
my sister's womb
blessed
my father's chest
my brother's throat
flows
as the most sacred
river
in my homeland
nothing more holy
than breath and body
so i will continue
to string
my garland
blossom by blossom
i will plant life
into the earth
i will not forget
our sisters
raped at noon in the village square
i will call out the names
of our orphans our widows
who still live
in thin huts
amongst ash and burnt bones
their homes
their hearts
a well
deeper than fiery night sky
i will demand
the worms
which still inhabit
the shared garden
out
to shrivel
away
in the salt
of our dead's dried blood
i will drench myself
in marigold/ marigold
because
i refuse to forget
massacre/ massacre
i refuse to extinguish
this living candle
i will not allow
anyone
to eclipse
the golden suns
which circle
my planet
my memory
i will resurrect
each life
each flower
i refuse
to forget
because
my people's heart
is the forever
burning
funeral pyre
[Preeti Kaur grew up in California and currently lives in the midwest. She spent three years working with June Jordan's Poetry for the People program and will be published in the upcoming South Asian American poetry anthology, Writing the Lines of Our Hands. She recently was featured in "Nation of Immigrants," a poetry CD produced by The Loft Literary Center, the nation's largest literary center. The poem My People's Heart was published in a previous version in The Sikh Review's July 2003 edition.]
March 25, 2009
Conversation about this article
1: Meeta Kaur (Union City, California, U.S.A.), March 26, 2009, 7:43 PM.
This is an intense poetic journey through the brutal truth of these attacks. I'm happy you posted, Preeti!
2: Hardeep Kaur (Oroville), April 02, 2009, 10:03 AM.
Tremendous poem. Very well written and to the point. Brings back memories of that year.
3: Harjot Kaur (Canada), April 28, 2009, 12:47 AM.
So very well written! Wonderfully executed. You brought hidden truths to the forefront in this piece. An achievement indeed.
4: Pavneet Kaur (Delhi, India), October 27, 2010, 1:43 AM.
Amazing! Incredible! Such a heart-touching poem. Thank you so much for sharing. It brings to the fore the exact sentiments of all Sikhs, for 1984 is a wound in all our hearts. Thanks again!