Dreaming of Punjab by a Young Girl in Foreign Land

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Dalvinder Singh Grewal

Writer
Historian
SPNer
Jan 3, 2010
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Dreaming of Punjab by a Young Girl in Foreign Land

Harnoor Kaur Grewal Class X

Ryadh (Saudi Arabia)

She wakes up in the morning and inhales the misty scent of the Chenab, then meditates besides the Sutlej. She dances with the currents of the Ravi, plays melodious tunes to the Beas and finally bathes in the waters of Jhelum. She drapes a red phulkari over her salwar kameez, kada in one hand with kalire hanging from her delicate wrists. She prays under the golden domes of the Harmandir Sahib (Golden Temple) which seem to rise above the holy waters of the temple. Among the sacred pages of the Sri Guru Granth Sahib she preaches the teachings of the gurus who emphasize on oneness, whose articulate verses show their devotion to the One who is supreme, He who is without fear and without hate. For Him every one is part of His creation (Ek pita ekas ke hum baarik) The Nishan Sahb saluting every turban as a symbol of one’s identity.

In the day, she flows through the mustard fields, which are - ‘yellow and vast spread irrigated with the farmer’s sweat’. As she sees quite further - ‘Bees hum above the scorching land Woodlands flower, tall banyan trees stand, fluffy sugarcanes in wide expense. While bees hum above the scorching land, in the night she lies under the acacia tree and smells the fragranted night blooming jasmine spreading its charm over the croaking of the frogs. The wind playing a melody so enchanting.

She drifts off to sleep only to wake up to an enigmatic morning of Lohri. In the evening, when cold breeze waves in the air, a bonfire for the people to embrace it’s warmth, prayers before the harvest, pray to Lord Agni my dear - may our crops blessed be. In chetra (March - April)] arrives with the cokoo's (koel) calls of joy and the spiritual colours of divinity as the Hola mohalla rejoices the spirit of her soul with the representation of martial skills in battles, bravery accustomed in her core. It is the month of vaisakh (April - May)] but a sense of sorrow prevails and gloom is ignited at the Jallianwala Bagh and holocaust of 1947. In the words of Amrita Pritam : "O comforter of the sorrowing, rise and behold thy Punjab Its fields are strewn with corpses, blood runs into the Chenab. The shot of each bullet as though piercing through her skin, seeking justice with every sound and carrying hope in a broken platter. Celebrations remained untouched in the spring of 1919 and again in 1947.

But misery doesn’t wear her down, instead, it empowers her to do more. The people of her land carry their hearts on their sleeves and smile carefree. Their energy depicts the enthusiasm which they adhere to in each and every fold of life. Spread across oceans and countries, delivering the plethora of talents they hold in their selves, carrying the ancient in their souls and jovial evermore. Unsaid and untold many stories lie within her fertile lands, within the aroma of her struggle during the independence or after, the silent wails unheard, stories of valour, justice, power and stories with every morning she gets up in Punjab ready to conquer every fear, every bit of hatred orchestrated by selfish politicians, and despite the challenges that sing in her throat she bounces back stronger, singing a melody of a courageous future as she rekindles the history of his clan told by her grandmother.
 
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