Nanak Singh Jallianwala Bagh Massacre Poem - The Jallianwala Bagh Poem
Versus
Prof. Harinder Singh Mehboob’ Poem: ‘Murder of sleeps and a wonderful act of Martyr’
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Versus
This is the Jallianwala Bagh poem the British didn’t want us to read Khooni Vaisakhi, a Punjabi poem by a survivor of the Amritsar massacre in 1919, was banned by the British. Now, with an English translation by his grandson, it will be published to mark the 100th anniversary of the event: Samira Sood; PUBLISHED: APR 08, 2019 | 18:51:05 IST
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Nanak Singh was 22 when he went to Jallianwala Bagh with a couple of friends on that fateful Baisakhi day in 1919 to protest against the draconian Rowlatt Act. In the frenzied firing of General Dyer’s officers and the ensuing stampede, his friends died. Nanak Singh survived. He went on to become an acclaimed writer, penning more than 50 novels, plays, short stories and essays, including Ik Myan Do Talwaran, which won him the Sahitya Akademi Award in 1962. But before any of that, he wrote a poem.
As the clock struck five on thirteenth April
They all gather in the Bagh, my friends.
Seeking justice fair and honour, they stand
Sikhs, Hindus, Muslims together, my friends.
Folks young and old, and lads went too
For only a handful had stayed back, my friends.
They went to speak, to share their grief
Place lives at stake without fear, my friends.
Worrying no more about their precious lives
They left this world behind, my friends.
With slender hope of coming back home
Desires and dreams abandoned too, my friends.
With their own blood, they wanted to bloom
The parched soil of the Bagh, my friends.
Like swarms of moths, they gathered around
To be singed by violent flames, my friends.
Fed up with life, they courted death
Forcing Yama to accept their will, my friends.
Like Mansour, who said, ‘I am the Truth!’
When he knew he’d meet the gallows, my friends.
Like Shams Tabrizi, whose quest for God
Ended up in a painful death, my friends.
Like birds from the woods, they flocked together
So the hawk could have his fill, my friends.
To quench Dyer’s deadly thirst
With streams of blood their own, my friends.
Ah! My city mourns with grief today
Happy homes lie shattered because they go.
Heads held high offered for sacrifice
For Bharat Mata’s pride and honour, they go.
Pray, stop these valiant souls of God!
Straight to the abyss, they rise and go.
O mothers, watch your precious sons
To give up their youthful lives, they go.
O sisters, hold back your brothers dear
You won’t see them again once they go.
O wives, hang on to your dear beloveds
Or you’ll spend your lives widowed if they go.
O children, go run and hug your fathers
’Cause you’ll be orphans if they go.
Stop them, hold them, do what you can
They won’t come back, once they go.
Says Nanak Singh, Can’t stop them now
For nation’s sake to die they go.
BRIG. GEN. DYER ARRIVES, GUNFIRE BEGINS
Five-thirty sharp the clock had struck
Thousands gathered in the Bagh, my friends.
Leaders came to lament the nation’s woes
Taking turns to speak out loud, my friends.
Voiced grievance, hardship, anger, sorrow
Saying, no one listens to us, my friends.
What can we do, what options left?
Can’t see any ray of light, my friends.
Those words forlorn, they barely voiced
Came soldiers thundering down, my friends.
At Dyer’s command, those Gurkha troops
Gathered in a formation tight, my friends.
Under the tyrant’s orders, they opened fire
Straight into innocent hearts, my friends.
And fire and fire and fire they did
Some thousands of bullets were shot, my friends.
Like searing hail they felled our youth
A tempest not seen before, my friends.
Riddled chests and bodies slid to the ground
Each one a target large, my friends.
Haunting cries for help did rend the sky
Smoke rose from smouldering guns, my friends.
Just a sip of water was all they sought
Valiant youth lay dying in the dust, my friends.
That narrow lane to enter the Bagh
Sealed off on Dyer’s command, my friends.
No exit, no escape, no way out was left
Making the Bagh a deathly trap, my friends.
A fortunate few somehow survived
While most died then and there, my friends.
Some ran with bullets ripping their chest
Stumbling to their painful end, my friends.
Others caught the bullet while running away
Dropping lifeless in awkward heaps, my friends.
In minutes, the Bagh so strewn with corpses
None knew just who was who, my friends.
Many of them did look like Sikhs
Amid Hindus and Muslims plenty, my friends.
In the prime of their youth, our bravehearts lay
Gasping for one last breath, my friends.
Long hair lay matted in blood and grime
In slumber deep they sleep, my friends.
Says Nanak Singh, Who knows their state
But God the One and Only, my friends.
Nanak Singh Jallianwala Bagh Massacre Poem - The Jallianwala Bagh poem’
Versus
The operative part of the poem, ‘Murder of sleeps and a wonderful act of Martyr’ is being produced in English for ready reference as under: The poem, what a wonderful example of exposure of the Indian cultural cover?
“Murder of sleeps
and
A wonderful act of Martyr”
Listen! Oh cruel witch! ...
The Nation of the Martyr*
Slept after offering prayers at the door of Guru!
Then, a witch snake or cobra** stealthily sneaked in, thirsty to suck blood,
The hands of Beant with firmness of mind
O woman with wicked sons, listen. You have killed the innocent children of my Qaum in their sleep.
But Jarnail who is an old guard of the Guru’s house, is riding the almighty Time and such a rider is never defeated. Listen, 0 heartless and cruel Witch!
The wrath of Beant will finish you like an insect and having demolished the gates of your kingdom, will push you in the darkness of Hell...
The woman like a female witch snake or cobra surrounded the Harmandir and Fate burnt the bread of the pious fakirs.
Then, an arrow shot by Beant came to destroy the poison of the wily witch who slept in the hearts of idol-worshippers.
The innocent babies eaten away in asleep
Listen! Oh cruel witch! ...
The Foot notes to the poem:
*Martyrdom day of Guru Arjan Dev
** A witch snake or cobra, known for killing its victims in sleep by sucking in their breath in imaginary stories.
Forwarded By: Balbir Singh Sooch-Sikh Vichar Manch
http://www.sikhvicharmanch.
Prof. Harinder Singh Mehboob, renowned Punjabi Shiromani Sahitkaar, noted litterateur and Sahitya Academy Award winner’ Poem: ‘Murder of sleeps and a wonderful act of Martyr’ i.e. ‘Neendan Da Qatal and Shaheed Da Gajab’
http://www.sikhvicharmanch.
……
Khooni Vaisakhi, a long poem that details the events that led up to the bloodbath at Jallianwala Bagh, the actual event and its aftermath, was banned by the British upon its publication in 1920, and copies were destroyed. Now, ahead of the centenary of the massacre, it will be published again. Khooni Vaisakhi: A Poem From The Jallianwala Bagh Massacre 1919 features an English translation by Nanak Singh’s grandson, His Excellency Navdeep Suri, India’s Ambassador to the UAE, alongside the corresponding Punjabi verse. Interestingly, the book also includes an essay by Justin Rowlatt, great-grandson of Sir Sidney Rowlatt, who authored the Rowlatt Act. Reproduced below is an excerpt from the poem.
THE GATHERING IN JALLIANWALA BAGH
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Prof. Harinder Singh Mehboob, renowned Punjabi Shiromani Sahitkaar, noted litterateur and Sahitya Academy Award winner’ Poem: ‘Murder of sleeps and a wonderful act of Martyr’ i.e. ‘Neendan Da Qatal and Shaheed Da Gajab’
http://www.sikhvicharmanch.
Murder of sleeps and a wonderful act of Martyr’ i.e. ‘Neendan Da Qatal and Shaheed Da Gajab’ in his book, ‘Jhanan Di Raat’ at page 826 to 828 and he was not suitably remembered and comparatively glorified for his work on his death.
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