The land of Punjab I left so many years ago, Beckons me with such sorrow and woe.
The women and children mourn tears of grief, the men oblivious in a state of disbelief.
The day of June 6, ’84 glares bright red, Tainted with the blood of thousands dead.
Mother India’s son, the Sikhs so brave,
Are now ushered by her to their very own grave.
The people for whom Guru Arjan and Tegh Bahadur gave their lives,
Now stab the backs of their sons and wives
Such thanks for the martyred Sikhs of days gone,
And Sikhs regret proclaiming India their home.
The five rivers now red with the blood of my brethren, Whisper words to me of the storm that’s gather in, Such tales they tell of the chaos that’s begun, Will send chills into the souls of generations to come Look back my Sikhs and then turn away, For now we must fight to live each day…
Article extracted from this publication >> June 14, 1985