{"id":411,"date":"2019-07-02T07:06:12","date_gmt":"2019-07-02T07:06:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/?p=411"},"modified":"2019-07-02T07:06:12","modified_gmt":"2019-07-02T07:06:12","slug":"kesar","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/2019\/07\/02\/kesar\/","title":{"rendered":"Kesar"},"content":{"rendered":"

I wonder why they don\u2019t make the entrance bigger. It will involve ruining the houses nearby, but\u2026 maybe that\u2019s why. Hundreds of people come to the <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> regularly and the crowd is especially large during festivals. An entrance this small is criminal. A good entrance must allow a crowd through it, without people having to smell each other\u2019s scent or being elbowed every which way. The <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> is almost as crowded as the animal fair at <\/span><\/span><\/span>Mall Mandi<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>. The animal fair is always an exciting affair (when we ignore the squishing through the crowd and the smell of animals and their goo all over the place). I manage fairly well in crowded areas, because I am tiny and skinny. But sometimes I worry Abbu\u2019s belly will get stuck in an especially big crowd. He\u2019ll be stuck in between people like <\/span><\/span><\/span>sabji<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> stuck in my teeth. I shoot through the multitude of people eager to get inside. I am really excited because I will meet Kesar again.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I am certain she is in the <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> with her Baba. After all, Baisakhi is her favourite festival. Every year people come to the<\/span><\/span><\/span> bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> after praying at the Harmandir Sahib. It used to be the property of Himmat Singh\u2019s family during the Sikh empire. Now, the <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> is the regular playing ground for most of us kids. We sneak out of our homes, early in the morning, to play in the <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> with our friends. Kesar, she is my best friend.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Three days ago, at the Ram Navami procession I had mocked her for having grown fat at her naani\u2019s home. The same thing had happened to Ammi. Ammi grew rounder by the day and then her tummy bulged out. I was worried she was going to explode. I told her to eat less otherwise her tummy would touch the floor and she wouldn\u2019t be able to walk. Fufi had laughed at that and told me that Ammi was growing a baby inside her tummy. I asked Fufi if I could go inside and meet the baby, to which fufi laughed and said it wouldn\u2019t be long before the baby came out to play with me. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I thought Kesar was also growing a baby for us to play with and even her tummy would start bulging out soon. I asked her if she knew the gender of the baby. She gave me a quizzical look and then turned crimson. Her eyebrows bunched up and her silly brown eyes got teary. Then she ran into her house while I was left wondering what happened. Later, Fufi explained that Kesar growing chubby had nothing to do with babies and it was rude of me to call her fat. So, for the last three days, I had been rehearsing my apology for when I meet her.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Things are tense. Not just between us, but in the entire city. There were shootings on the day after the Ram Navami and people died. Abbu was also telling chachu something about Satyapalji and Saifuddinji being taken away because of the <\/span><\/span><\/span>Ro-lat Act<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>. I couldn\u2019t hear much from behind the door. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Over the years, I have gotten better at eavesdropping but I can\u2019t understand most of the discussions. Last year, most of the men who had gone for the big war returned. Abbu said they went \u2018across seas\u2019 so we could enjoy more freedom here. I have never seen a sea. Ammi tells me it is an endless lake. And there are lands on the other sides of seas. That\u2019s where the white men came from \u2013 the men who run our <\/span><\/span><\/span>sarkar<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>. Our men went to fight in their wars so we could have more say in our <\/span><\/span><\/span>sarkar<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> and the way it works. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I think old men and their ways are very complicated. And scary. One of our neighbours didn\u2019t come back from the protests that happened after Ram Navami. Since then there has been unrest in the streets. People are not allowed to roam in groups and children haven\u2019t been let outside. Baisakhi has come as a big relief. On the days of festivities, all previous rivalries are forgiven and forgotten. Maybe the white men will also come and celebrate with us. All that matters is that Kesar will forgive me and we will be friends again.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> is a large open space surrounding by tall buildings on all sides. The crowd is huge and I haven\u2019t spotted her yet. There are people gathered in groups talking and greeting each other. At the centre, a big man is giving a speech. No. It\u2019s not a speech; he is reciting a poem.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAfsar-e-aala ne hum ko aaj di hai dhamkiyaan, Ki baaju kaat denge hum.<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Par har khizaan ke baad, mausamein bahar laajmi hai\u201d<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

(The officer threatens to cut our arms off,<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

But after every fall, spring is inevitable)<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

At one side of the <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>, volunteers are serving <\/span><\/span><\/span>langar<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> to the visitors. I see Kesar\u2019s brother among the volunteers and I know she is close. I walk in that direction skimming the crowd, while Abbu greets his friends. Ammi couldn\u2019t come because the baby has grown too big. Fufi stayed back to take care of her. I glance here and there, and then I see her. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

She has worn a white dress and looks beautiful. Chubby and yet beautiful. As I run towards her, I see there is some commotion near the entrance. A white officer is standing with a group of people in uniforms. They are here to celebrate with us ! Abbu and the other men can talk to them and they can resolve all their misunderstandings like me and Kesar. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKesar !\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I call, and she turns towards me.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am so sorry for what I said.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Salma. Naani was a little too generous. She stores her love in all the delicious food she made for me\u201d, she giggles. And just like that, for a moment, life is good again. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Then, hell breaks loose.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

People near the thick of the crowd have started screaming. There are sharps sounds, like rain drops pelting the ground. I turn around and stand on my toes to look through the crowd. The white officer is standing at the entrance with his men blocking it. They have their guns pointed at us and they are shooting. People are falling everywhere. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I hold Kesar\u2019s hand, terrified, as people start running in all directions. Immediately, both of us start running towards a small exit near the other end of the<\/span><\/span><\/span> bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>. My heart is thumping against my chest and I feel like I am going to puke. Suddenly, I fall forward with a sharp pain in my thigh. My leg is on fire and tears cloud my eyes. Kesar tries to make me stand but the pain is intolerable and I am paralysed with fear. I frantically search the crowd for signs of Abbu, as more people fall. Kesar keeps dragging me forward.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

That is when it happens. There is sharp cry and she falls. Red starts spreading across the white of Kesar\u2019s dress, like the time I broke the ink bottle, and ink seeped through Abbu\u2019s papers. It starts at her stomach and keeps racing across her torso as she too, falls. She is crying and so am I. The blood drains into the ground and along with it, Kesar\u2019s life drains out of her. I puke at my feet; the stench of her blood and my vomit driving me dizzy.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

All around us, people are running and falling. Some are jumping into the well in the <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span>. Some men are trying to climb the walls that surround the ground. The small exits are piling up with more bodies as the soldiers have pointed the weapons precisely to the escape points.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The screams continue as I look around and when I look beside me at Kesar, she is… gone. Her beautiful white dress saturated with blood and her eyes all but empty. I think of Abbu somewhere in this crowd. He must be searching for me. Or has he already escaped? I pray for him to find safety. I think about Ammi and the little baby. I think about my best friend. One second here and then, poof.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I don’t know how long it has been – minutes, hours, I can’t say. The shooting has stopped and the men have left. The air is suffused with moans of the dying and the wounded. I sit in the puddle of my vomit and blood and the blood of the corpses around me. My leg is killing me and yet no sound escapes my mouth. My lips are dry and my cheeks wet with the tears refusing to stop. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The evening falls and I know that this darkness is forever.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

A poster that was released right after the Jallianwala <\/span><\/span><\/span>bagh<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span> massacre of 1919 had the following lines on it:<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Khaatir Apne Desh Di Hovan Jo Qurbaan,<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Mardey Nahi Oh Jeundey Roshan Vich Jahaan;<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Jallianwala Bagh vich hoya zulam apaar,<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Hindu, Muslim, Sikh kardey hahakar..<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

(Those who are sacrificed for their country,<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t die, rather are immortalized by history.<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Jallianwala bagh\u2019s brutality was beyond compare<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Hindu, Muslim, Sikh are all in outrageous despair)<\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

– Chaitali Shah<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I wonder why they don\u2019t make the entrance bigger. It will involve ruining the houses nearby, but\u2026 maybe that\u2019s why. Hundreds of people come to the bagh regularly and the crowd is especially large during festivals. An entrance this small is criminal. A good entrance must allow a crowd through it, without people having to…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[23,24],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-411","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-creative","category-saahitya"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/411","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=411"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/411\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":412,"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/411\/revisions\/412"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=411"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=411"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nitk.acm.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=411"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}