Skip to main content

Amritsar Massacre: Salute To Martyrs


A city of memories, histories (some created and some yet to be). Pure as name ‘Amritsar’. Legends were born unknown and are immortals in the stack. History recalls their sacrifices. The fields stretched beyond the vision, a beautiful texture from green to blue to many
in the atmosphere. A picture perfect collage city. People attire in helpful,  the personality that inspires and energise, the turban reminds of those forwarded jokes.  
A queue of destination to be visited among which was ‘the bagh’. We rode a short distance in a running disco with those typical Punjabi songs, which couldn't be understood then and can’t be stopped sharing now. But the dance and songs were not the attention seeker for the outsiders rather the painting on the bus. We switched from modern to vintage wheels even in that developing surrounding. The wheels turned to a short walk on the street stretched till the temple but our halt was  ‘the bagh’.
Until now it was ‘we’ but as I came near the gate of the bagh it was just me and only me. The mood switched in a different zone, the steps, the word froze. This was what happens to me only on those two patriotic days when the flag slide at the top and dance in the air. The excitement of entering the bagh was similar to those thousands of Baishakhi pilgrims (of those men, women and children's) entered ninety-seven years ago. The vision which I had was of those texts from history books, from those motion pictures and rest my imagination played its role.      
The narrow entry opened in wide space, stretched far in acres. The trees, plants, the grass were nourished from the shedded blood of those innocent. The fired bullet made the cemented path to walk all over the bagh. The Amar Jothi holds the fire which still burns somewhere deep within us. Parallel to it was the point from where the unnamed bullets were fired. The more I moved ahead the deeper my thoughts went and wider my imagination grew. The clear vision of men and women running for their and their loved one's life, children's cry who were unknown of what was happening around. With those firing bullets, the walls of bagh increased in heights, the bagh stretched in length. The depth of the well was revealed by those jumps.                

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Seabed...

Racing the rotation of wheels. Making it early, to be safe from the rays of that raised temperature, a thick hide from the sun. Yet, we were running late. Hunger striking hard in the middle of the way, where the maximum distance was yet to be measured.  The far the eyes went was the sky welded without any joint with water.  The blue hue of the sky reflected sharp on the water. But the shade was darker when we got in. Shoes stuffed tight but were placed right. Naked feet making the impression by disturbing the sand.  The initial of letting the feet taste water was changed with a spark. The sand looked prettier when it was beneath the feet but not when you were beneath it, with your clothes. Even not when it becomes hard to dust it out from the skin and dripping clothes. The dive, the fight with those waves revealed strong. The buds, cells were flavoured salty. The impression of the feet was blown away as that of many others. The unintelligent...
1 comment
Read more

A Mommy Day...

Even before the brightest sphere in the universe rise, she stood before him wise. Without any gadget, habitual to her subconscious. Slow with her crawls, she completes the chores, without our knowledge all day long. She never got a leave never did she asked one. Neither on those second or fourth nor at the ends of weeks, none on those with those bank holidays. Never even when she broke, healthy.  She had a magic, power which is concealed deep within the word 'MAA'. The only name, which came out with fear, with a concern, first of all, the only name in every hunt. She survived hard for us and has been derived out of those gods and goddess, clone to us. Simpler with looks, but intelligent beyond those tonnes of books. Still innocent for that technicality. Despite modern remedies, she still has those 'nuskhe' for initial and to surprise they though work.  She, the most easier to convince, the one who hide our mischiefs. The one who can divide, among several a...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Holi-Day...

Different shades, difficult to understand,  some pretty, some dark, some light,  but they never fade.  Life is white with simplicity and black with pain sorrow  for those who have their brain's narrow. It's harder but life is beyond monochrome,  with full of colour to different mood who have their mind's broader. Not for just this day rather but for a whole. The feel for colours reflects on that face with that smile.  The roar a pleasure the colour is just an excuse,  it is the touch of our loved ones and they make this day use. The significance sings high victory on that lie. The flames make the wishes fly and  the smoke makes them reach the sky. Believe is what have kept it alive. For some, it is beyond those colour a story of pride, a day so thin but those memories stay wide  till colours escape the skin May this day shower the colour all your life  Wish you all a Happy Holi...
Post a Comment
Read more