The Red Garden

This is a tribute to the people who gave up their lives at the Jallianwala Bagh massacre on the 101st anniversary.

I visited the Jallianwala Bagh once in my dreams. I saw the walls ridden with bullet marks. On passing one of the marks, I heard a voice call out to me from the wall in the silence. It rattled me. It was an old mother who asked me, "How is my son?" "Is he living a happy life out there?". She continued, "He would be married now and would have kids as big as you. If you have any information about him, please tell me". Her franticness and unconditional love felt as if it was my mother asking, and I replied, "Yes, he is doing well."

On walking further, I saw another bullet-ridden wall and heard another voice whispering to me. He inquired, "Does mother still asks people how I am? Don't tell her that I am also here. " He further questioned, "I hope she still asks the question with the same fervor? I don't want her hopes to be quashed on knowing the truth. She will cry her eyes out." A tear slowly crawled down my cheek.

The next mark had an artist conversing with me. He stated, "During festivals, I have seen many colors, but never had I seen so many people bleed together." He continued, "When so many people stopped breathing at one time, was it the same gentle breeze still, or was it a storm demanding justice?"

When farmers also cut their crops with so much care, 

How were so many bullets blindly without a care shot in the open? 

With a heavy heart, I took a step forward to hear a person laughing uncontrollably, which took me by surprise. I asked him, "Why are you laughing?" He replied, "That day I was shouting slogans for the freedom of my country. Today when you sing songs for the country, you will not be riddled with bullets." He asked, "Why aren't you the one laughing?" The silence pierced my soul.

When walls talk to you, and you are dumbfounded,

The question arises who is really dead?