1984 And Me

I had never thought about this, but when I read her blog I realized that events of such magnitude affect the  country as a whole and not any specific community. Missy Baba’s blog reflected  my sentiments regarding 1984 and after.

Whether it is 1984, Babri or Godhra (or even 1947), the politicians have always been successfully able to and manipulate misuse the populace.

No, we can not forget 1984. Have we been able to forget 1947?

And it doesn’t matter whether we were present in 1984. I was born much later than ’47, but I do suffer because of the events then. These events affect the generations to come.

I was not directly or indirectly affected by the 1984 riots, except that I was prevented from joining my Internship, and the 13 days gap proved me costly in getting my PG.(I had to fight the MCI to get my absence condoned).

But I lost one Sardar Ji, a very dear Sardar Ji, to the Mayhem. He had a confectionery shop about 9 houses away from my home. We children loved his shop, and the shopkeeper too. Toffees, fruit Buns, cream rolls, Ludo, balls, shuttle cocks, he had all. He loved us too. He jokingly called me a baniya, as I used to calculate the rates using mental maths. One evening visit to the “Sardaar jee ki dukaan” was almost a daily ritual for us. Phantom cigarettes were my favorite and he knew it. We never saw him after “the tree fell”. His shop remained closed for many months. The neighboring thela wallas told, probably guessed, that they ran away to Punjab, and will come back after some times. But he never came back. The shop assistant, a pundit, came often to the shop and waited for hours. Then one day the municipality broke down his shop. I can still remember his smiling eyes watching from behind those bushy beard and mustaches. Generally all sardars look similar to me, but I am sure I will recognize those lovable eyes.