FREE YOUR MIND.

SUP im _________

dear anon singhnee,

you dont know me, but i just want you to know that you inspire me. you dont really say much, only speak when spoken to. but when i do hear you talk the fevour and passion you talk about guru sahib with leaves me with a (secretly) dropped jaw. You walk with so much dignity, you remind me of a lioness…but your dark eyes are always soft and humble. When you do ardaas in front of guru ji, you remind me of someone who has sold their head to the guru and wishes for nothing else. You remind me of a warrior who will be cut apart rather than have their sikhi taken away. you do not brag about everything you do (bani, seva etc), although you do a million times more than i ever could. When i see you talking to people, i can tell youre imagining that guru sahib is inside their heart so youre careful with your words. wow singhnee ji, you are so beautiful.

i do not care who you are. i dont care how you tie your dastaar. i dont care about what rehat you keep. i dont care about what jatha you are a part of and what programs you go to. i dont care about what clothes you wear. i dont care about the food you eat. HOWEVER, if you think its okay to talk to me about other people who do not follow the same things you do in a bad way, i AM NOT okay with that. dont even TRY and talk badly about our brothers and sisters. i dont want to hear it. when i see lack of love for eachother it just breaks my heart over and over again.

k sorry, im done. needed to vent.

phulkari: Indira Gandhi makes an address for peace to the nation, in the full knowledge that on her orders tens of thousands of army troops are planning to launch a full scale war against a mass of unarmed civilian targets inside and around the Complex. As she makes the address, those Sikhs murdered on the 1st June (one of those; Bhai Mengha Singh pictured) by soldiers on her command, are cremated. The telephone connections of the Golden Temple Complex are disconnected. The few armed Sikhs we see make up only a fraction of the population of Punjab. The Government also cuts off the entire Punjab State to the outside world, ensuring there are minimal witnesses to the carnage which is about to be unleashed upon it population.

phulkari:

Indira Gandhi makes an address for peace to the nation, in the full knowledge that on her orders tens of thousands of army troops are planning to launch a full scale war against a mass of unarmed civilian targets inside and around the Complex.
As she makes the address, those Sikhs murdered on the 1st June (one of those; Bhai Mengha Singh pictured) by soldiers on her command, are cremated.

The telephone connections of the Golden Temple Complex are disconnected. The few armed Sikhs we see make up only a fraction of the population of Punjab. The Government also cuts off the entire Punjab State to the outside world, ensuring there are minimal witnesses to the carnage which is about to be unleashed upon it population.

(via singhstyle)

justice too long delayed is justice denied

“We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five year old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness”—then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.”


-MLK jr “Letter From Birmingham Jail”

mehreenkasana:

esmeweatherwax:

theneighbourhoodsuperhero:

Omar Khadr, a sixteen year old Guantanamo Bay detainee weeps uncontrollably, clutching at his face and hair as he calls out for his mother to save him from his torment. “Ya Ummi, Ya Ummi (Oh Mother, Oh Mother),” he wails repeatedly, hauntingly with each breath he takes.

The surveillance tapes, released by Khadr’s defence, show him left alone in an interrogation room for a “break” after he tried complaining to CSIS (Canadian Security Intelligence Service) officers about his poor health due to insufficient medical attention. Ignoring his complaints and trying to get him to make false confessions, the officers get frustrated with the sixteen year old’s tears and tell him to get himself together by the time they come back from their break.

“You don’t care about me. Nobody cares about me,” he sobs to them.

The tapes show how the officers manipulated Khadr into thinking that they were helping him because they were also Canadian and how they taunted him with the prospect of home (Canada), (good) food, and familial reunion.

Khadr, a Canadian, was taken into US custody at the age of fifteen, tortured and refused medical attention because he wouldn’t attest to being a member of Al Qaeda, even though he was shot three times in the chest and had shrapnel embedded in his eyes and right shoulder. As a result, Khadr’s left eye is now permanently blind, the vision in his right eye is deteriorating, he develops severe pain in his right shoulder when the temperature drops, and he suffers from extreme nightmares.

He has been incarcerated at Guantanamo Bay since 2002, suffering extremely harsh interrogations and torture (methods), and is now 25 years old.

How can they justify shooting and imprisoning a CHILD.

Remember when Obama said he’d close Gitmo in 2010? It’s 2012. Torture continues, illegal detention goes on. No one stops America because it’s the “harbinger of democracy, freedom and justice” to the world. Then it goes on to detain a young boy, torture him to “extract information” because it is “important to safeguard American interests.” And then you wonder why people hate America. It’s not that hard to understand.

(via phulkari)

reminder to self: somtimes i get so caught up in small concepts i forget the true love and essence of sikhi; when practiced properly, its like a rush of spring wind seeping through your pores, carrying seeds of beautiful flowers to plant in your mind. it is the sky, the galaxy, the stars which smilingly emit light. it is guruji`s face in the moon. it is dewy mornings, with the soft hum of vaheguru coming from a brightly lit darbar, challenging av darkness. it is the sound of birds waking up before sunrise to call out his name. it is guru ji raining amrit down into the battai that sit over our heads in sangat. it is me being a beggar at his door. it is seeing gur pyare and having tears in my eyes from having so much love for those on the same path. Sikhi is dark nights comforted by his warm, sweet name. it is light, happiness, radiance. thats all there is to it.
reminder to self:

somtimes i get so caught up in small concepts i forget the true love and essence of sikhi; when practiced properly, its like a rush of spring wind seeping through your pores, carrying seeds of beautiful flowers to plant in your mind. it is the sky, the galaxy, the stars which smilingly emit light. it is guruji`s face in the moon. it is dewy mornings, with the soft hum of vaheguru coming from a brightly lit darbar, challenging av darkness. it is the sound of birds waking up before sunrise to call out his name. it is guru ji raining amrit down into the battai that sit over our heads in sangat. it is me being a beggar at his door. it is seeing gur pyare and having tears in my eyes from having so much love for those on the same path. Sikhi is dark nights comforted by his warm, sweet name. it is light, happiness, radiance. thats all there is to it.

(Source: , via myredpeoplehuntinghat)

Heart, if you sit amongst thorns and don’t choose to pick flowers all day from the garden - what can I do? His face lights the whole world, but if you can’t see it, what can I do? - Rumi 

Heart, if you sit amongst thorns and don’t choose to pick flowers all day from the garden - what can I do? His face lights the whole world, but if you can’t see it, what can I do? - Rumi 

(Source: middleeasternpoetry)

paalehi akirathaghanaa pooran dhrisatt thaeree raam ||You cherish even the ungrateful ones; Your Glance of Grace is perfect, Lord.


paalehi akirathaghanaa pooran dhrisatt thaeree raam ||
You cherish even the ungrateful ones; Your Glance of Grace is perfect, Lord.