Leo Tolstoy said, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
Sometimes our life becomes so unbearable that we can't barely keep going and want to give it all up. Despair takes over and whisper in our ears that life is meaningless and it is not worth the effort, but we must not pay attention to it because we know where that path leads. My family has been fighting a battle since last 21 years to wash off the blames put on my father as he tried to do something revolutionary to serve an emergent need, something which law addresses as crime.
My father didn’t get the very ‘benefit of doubt’ the corrupt politicians of India get as protection whenever brought to some court of justice, as the government felt that a crime would have occurred hadn’t the police intervene at the right time. What is the right time, or for that matter just ‘right’? Was it the right time when police agreed to listen to my father & played foul on him to arrest him and he was sent to jail for a crime that didn’t occur? Or was it, when my father stood up against the demon of communalism and tried to convey a message to the nation risking his life and future and caused a stir in the air, just to cease the corruption & violence? Which was the right time?
My father, Hari Singh, has been a simple man all his life, content with love and respect for his nation. Unaware of the consequences he would face if he risked his life for the nation, his life took an usual turn in March 1993, when he decided to raise his voice against the injustice done to the innocent citizens of his nation, he risked it all, for his nation. He was never a man of khadi or khaki, nor did he aim to, all he knew were his values and principles, which kept him, going in life. My family was unaware too, of all the hardships which were waiting for us, after my father went to jail. Nobody could ever understand what it means to be a family of a man my father is. Every family has its own course which it takes in life to deal with adversities & to enjoy happiness with a sense of togetherness, latter being absent in our case, we were so unfortunate that we had to face all adversities alone.
The governments for last 21 years have been crushing the rights of a prisoner to secure fair justice through free trial, and to prove his innocence, because the law has gone blind. Definitions of crime aren’t clear to the ones who run our system, and they are free to write destinies of individuals as per their choice & pleasure. Where have we come in this race of global development as a democracy? Are we so heartless that we can’t guarantee a family its safety, security, & happiness? Or we just know the worth of a patriot when he is actually no more with us, awarding ration shops & petrol pumps to their survivors? We can’t be that cruel, be with me in my family’s quest for justice. Justice for a patriot. Justice for my father.
Justice for Hari Singh.
Sometimes our life becomes so unbearable that we can't barely keep going and want to give it all up. Despair takes over and whisper in our ears that life is meaningless and it is not worth the effort, but we must not pay attention to it because we know where that path leads. My family has been fighting a battle since last 21 years to wash off the blames put on my father as he tried to do something revolutionary to serve an emergent need, something which law addresses as crime.
My father didn’t get the very ‘benefit of doubt’ the corrupt politicians of India get as protection whenever brought to some court of justice, as the government felt that a crime would have occurred hadn’t the police intervene at the right time. What is the right time, or for that matter just ‘right’? Was it the right time when police agreed to listen to my father & played foul on him to arrest him and he was sent to jail for a crime that didn’t occur? Or was it, when my father stood up against the demon of communalism and tried to convey a message to the nation risking his life and future and caused a stir in the air, just to cease the corruption & violence? Which was the right time?
My father, Hari Singh, has been a simple man all his life, content with love and respect for his nation. Unaware of the consequences he would face if he risked his life for the nation, his life took an usual turn in March 1993, when he decided to raise his voice against the injustice done to the innocent citizens of his nation, he risked it all, for his nation. He was never a man of khadi or khaki, nor did he aim to, all he knew were his values and principles, which kept him, going in life. My family was unaware too, of all the hardships which were waiting for us, after my father went to jail. Nobody could ever understand what it means to be a family of a man my father is. Every family has its own course which it takes in life to deal with adversities & to enjoy happiness with a sense of togetherness, latter being absent in our case, we were so unfortunate that we had to face all adversities alone.
The governments for last 21 years have been crushing the rights of a prisoner to secure fair justice through free trial, and to prove his innocence, because the law has gone blind. Definitions of crime aren’t clear to the ones who run our system, and they are free to write destinies of individuals as per their choice & pleasure. Where have we come in this race of global development as a democracy? Are we so heartless that we can’t guarantee a family its safety, security, & happiness? Or we just know the worth of a patriot when he is actually no more with us, awarding ration shops & petrol pumps to their survivors? We can’t be that cruel, be with me in my family’s quest for justice. Justice for a patriot. Justice for my father.
Justice for Hari Singh.
No comments:
Post a Comment