November 1, 1984
The capital awoke to a foreboding calm,
A false peace foretold an exploding bomb;
Truckloads of butchers brought into town,
Electoral lists of Sikhs passed all around;
By noon, on shops a systematic attack,
Ransacked and charred charcoal black;
As Hindu families try to hide Sikh friends—
Still 72 hours to go before the carnage ends.
November 2, 1984
One of the bloodiest days in Delhi's annals,
All orchestrated through Congress channels;
As Sikhs are burned to ashes at the railway,
Officials assure the nation that all's okay;
This was the day of Block 32's living hell,
Like prisoners executed in a flaming cell;
The day the police turned a blind eye—
Too busy pointing out who next should die.
November 3, 1984
The massacre went on 'til 2 in the afternoon,
Nary a widow left who hadn't yet swooned;
The organized mobs came again and again,
Until almost no Sikhs remained to be slain;
The paramilitary was satisfied with the toll,
Enough Sikh crowns had apparently rolled;
As homeless survivors huddled in camps,
Neighbors alone shone benevolent lamps.
November 4, 1984
But the ray of light was dim and fleeting,
As soon came more grimness and bleeding;
The last round of killings for good measure
Wiped out colonies with reptilian pleasure;
Later, camps funded by private donations
Were coldly closed by the administration;
After four days of state-sponsored slaughter,
Even God's Eyes had run dry of water.
The Aftermath
For four dark days in November God cried,
While thousands of Nanak's children died;
Hunted down in Delhi's horrific roadways,
Trapped like mice within a sadistic maze;
Fumes of kerosene pierced the winter air,
As corpses lay beside burning black hair;
"When a big tree falls the earth shakes"—
Yet the Lion stands as a new dawn breaks!!
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