This is the story of those days when
the daughter of Hira Singh from Shekhupura
was barely sixteen years old in the
Chichoki Mallian village near Lahore.
And when the five rivers of Punjab
saw a starred-crescent-moon tattooed
on the forehead of Nanak by a mujhayadin.
The five rivers rattled in rage.
The Sikhs and Hindus gave up
their differences but felt abandoned
as if they were exiles in their own homes.
They boarded a train at Kartarpur
going to India through Guru-ki-Nagri.
It was stopped at Chichoki Mallian
and the slaughter started. The young
the old were all butchered except
the young ladies, raped and sold.
A mullah, the man of God, saw Jindan
running in panic among the dead bodies.
He brought her home. Converted her to
Fatima Bibi before marrying her.
The helpless lady despised the Mullah.
She grieved and cried for years.
Later she had four sons and five daughters.
The people always called her the Sikh girl.
Her tears ran out. She accepted her destiny.
Now she waits for her death and
wishes her last breath to be sweet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem