Great IP,
Thanks for sharing , it took real courage to share this story
There's a way out of this Hell, Making yourself wrong and being guilty is not
the way out, If it was you would have been out, there is another way out, would
you want it????
It's not easy my friend.......
Let me know
Love
Gurmeet
----- Original Message -----
From: Inderpal Singh Munjal
To: EX-GHPS
Sent: Tuesday, October 14, 2008 7:08 AM
Subject: exghps1988v_v A TRUE STORY ABOUT I.P.SINGH
Hi Guys
Before narrating this story,I want to make one thing
clear,I have no communal intentions and certainly not trying to ignite or spark
any kind of hatred against anyone.I am just sharing an experience,which almost
shook me, and left a permanent imprint on my life and personality.One can
share such feelings and encounters with friends only.One thing more,Gurmeet
S.Khurana's recent mails,have encouraged me to confess,something,for which I
often feel guilty.
Sometime back,I happen to pass through an area called
Tilak Vihar. This Tilak Vihar is a J.J. type colony,situated between,Tilak
Nagar and outer ring road,in West Delhi.This place is dominated by Sikh
population.After 1984, riots-affected,sikhs from all over Delhi,were
rehabilitated here.I had never been to this place before.That day also,I had to
visit,one of my staff members (Nirmal S.),for something very urgent.Nirmal is a
very professional camera man,who lived there in a cheap rented accommodation.I
had to stop my car at a point,as it could not go any further,and started
looking for Nirmal's house.
Suddenly, I heard someone shouting at the top of
his voice.I turned back to see,that a man in his mid fifties, was holding the
hand of a young sikh boy (must be in teens).
I can never forget the face of that innocent boy.He was light
complexioned,and blessed with very photogenic features,but he was poorly
dressed,bare-foot and without Patka or Dastar.Then my attention diverted,back
to that middle aged man,who seemed to be genuinely cheated by that young
boy.That man gave a tight slap on the face of that boy,and snatched a bottle
from him and threw it on the road.There was white color liquid in the
bottle.Even after receiving 2-3 really hard blows,the boy remained unmoved,and
did not even cry for help.
I could not resist my self any more and
tried to intervene.That man calmed,and a bit politely said,"Sardarji aap isko
nahi jaantay,yeh sabko chutia banata hai." In the process the boy
got his hand freed,suddenly all his innocence disappeared.That boy,who
seemed speechless,till now,started abusing that man with all sorts of
M.C.'s and B.C.'s.I could not believe my ears.After covering a short
distance,the boy picked up a stone and hurled at the man,that missed his head
by half an inch.Man shouted,"Daikha Sardarji,yeh B.C. issi kaabil hai."
On listening to all this Shor-Sharaba,Nirmal came
out of his house,at the end of that Gali,as if he was waiting for me.We went
inside his room and Nirmal offered me a glass of water,which I badly
needed.After receiving the required packet,for which I had come,I hesitently
asked Nirmal about that young sikh boy.Nirmal told that he knew the boy,very
well,who lives in the very next Gali,and his name is Harpal.Harpal lives there
with his mother...Sarabjit.He added,they are only two in the family.Sarabjit
(Harpal's mother),is a very beautiful lady,in her thirties.
My anxiety,increased many folds.Nirmal read all the
questions ,in my eyes and explained further.I was told,Sarabjit was neither a
widow, nor a divorcee.Autually the story goes back to 1984,when Mohinder Singh
(Sarabjit's father),was a very wealthy trader,who lived with his wife and
lovely little,only daughter Sarabjit.They were a well settled,happy family.And
then came that fateful night of 31st oct 1984,when an angry and violent mob of
some hundred people,attacked their house and burnt it altogether.Mohinder Singh
was ruthlessly dragged,beaten and finally burnt alive.The neighbor's managed to
save,the young Sarabjit and her asthma patient mother.
None of the relatives,ever helped them.They
finally shifted to Tilak Vihar.Sarabjit never went to school,after 84.Her
mother's condition kept on deteriorating,in the absence of proper medical
treatment.Their only source of income was the compensation,they received from
the Govt.With the passage of time Sarabjit grew up into a very beautiful,young
sardarni.Then came the bouncer,which I could predict,but not wanted to
listen.Sarabjit took to prostitution,to support herself and mother.The Old lady
could not tolerate all this,and held herself responsible for the fate of her
only daughter.She passed away the very next month,some even say,she committed
suicide.Sarabjit,gave birth to a boy,Harpal,many years ago.No body knows about
Harpal's father.Sarabjit has inherited that Asthma,from her mother.She is no
more as beautiful,young and healthy,as she used to be.She hardly find any
customers now.Harpal is now out to earn the living.He buys second hand,empty
bottles,from the kabaari wala,fills them ,with slightly white colored water.He
is cheating people by selling these bottles as Phenol.He has to find new
customers daily.He easily finds,some customers every day,cos of his innocent
looks.
I had tears in my eyes,after
listening to the whole story.I pledged to come back,the next day.I promised my
Waheguru,(though I am not very religious), to help this boy in every possible
manner.I kept thinking about that boy,while proceeding towards my car.I once
again promised my self,that I will not leave any stone unturned,to make
Harpal's future bright.On reaching my car,I was astonished to see,that both,
the side mirrors of my brand new Honda City,have been stolen.So many people
were looking at me,as if ,I had landed from another planet.I could do nothing
but to hurriedly,jump on to the driver's seat.Then someone shouted,"yeh zaroor
Harpal....Harami ,ka kaam hai." I angrily repeated that man's words,"Yeh B.C.
issi kabil hai",and drove back home.
With in a span of few
minutes,I forgot all my promises ,which I made for the first time,to my
almighty Waheguru.Negative feelings,over powered me and I started
thinking...Mene kya lena iss Harpal ke pango se.But honestly speaking I can
never forget Harpal and his innocent face.Last week,one of my very dear friends
suggested,that v all r,so well to do,and v must atleast sponser,one poor
child's education.Once again the only face that came to my mind was Harpal.
The very next day I called
Nirmal,who is now working for a leading news channel,and residing,somewhere in
Noida.Nirmal,is very faithful to me,so on my request,he went all the way to
Tilak Vihar,to report me about the present status of Harpal and his mother.The
same evening he called,to tell me that Harpal had become a criminal,by now.He
has been in and out of jail,several times.His mother,Sarabjit was fed up ,of
his activities,so she finally sold off her house to a property dealer,and went
away to her Pind,some where in Punjab.Now no body in the locality
know,regarding the whereabouts of Harpal and his mother.Nirmal repeated
emphasised,"Sirji Uss Harpal ke baaray main sochana bund kar do....woh pucka
badmash hai."How can I tell him, how Harpal has changed my life,in
minutes.Harpal has told me so many things about me only.
Whenever I am lonely,and I
happen to close my eyes,I find Harpal laughing and shouting at me..." I.P. YOU
ARE SUCH A LIAR.
YOU ARE
SO WEAK.
YOU ARE
SO UNSTABLE.
YOU
ARE SO HYPOCRITE.
YOU
ARE SUCH A CHEAT."
So true.
Regards
Inder Pal
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