The feelings of once happiness are changed to feelings of the fear of death. The place where in the summer the doors and windows were left open, now that same place has a five o’clock curfew. A place where Sikh, Hindu and Muslims alike lived as brothers is now a place where brotherhood has been tom apart by a women who ‘was supposed to be a just leader and lover of mankind. The mother land that raised sons like Guru Gobind Singh Ji, Shaheed Mata Gujree, Mata Bhago and Bibi Sharan Kaur. A mother in whose lap settles the holy shrine of Harmander Sahib and Anandpur Sahib. This is the mother who feeds her

daughters and sons with her golden wheat. But this mother is tired and wom out. Her wheat wilts with her tears. I write of a mother who is the mother of rich, poor any caste the mother Punjab.

This land was damaged on June 6, 1984. Its freedom and pride was stolen from her. She was struck with the reality that nobody is really her friend. She was also struck by the reality that even some of her sons and daughters were not hers, because in her time of need they turned away from helping their mother. And they are not saving her from her dishonor and shame she is going through. land where a child must grow and learn fast how to defend the honor of his mother land. The land where Her and Ranjha could sadly depart to the thought that they would see each other the next day. Is the land where lovers like Her are afraid for the nights good bye in fear she may never see her Ranjha again. The place where a mother would once be proud to show off her sons and husbands, is now hiding them from Rajiv’s wicked eyed blood thirsty arm. The land where festive colorful occasions like weddings, Basakhi Mela, and Lodi, are now not only bleak and dull but also done secretly. These occasions only done out of a chore.

As the sun today hides its rays from the land where once the soil was rich with love and the rivers were flowing freedom. It hides its rays to the stranger it does not know, because this land is full of the poison of hatred and the rivers are closed and blocked from their freedom. A. land where young Sardars would probably say we are the Sardars of our mother land. Now these Sardars are hiding their faces and crying for their mother land. The land where a girl could talk and walk with her friends in the open fields, is now hiding and scared for her honor.

Article extracted from this publication >>   June 16, 1989