THE DAY WHEN THE SKY WEPT

It was the hot month of April, the time of the annual festivity. Amar was curious about the grand event going to be held near the Golden Temple. "It's just a matter of time, Amar. Your dada-dadi would be there too." His father, Vajrajit Singh looked at his frowned face. Vajrajit picked up the little kid in his arms and took him to sleep. 

Thirteenth of April, the day of the Baisakhi fair. Young Amar woke up with delight and enthusiasm. "Yay! It's my first time visiting the Golden Temple mummy. When are we going to leave? And when will dada-dadi be here?" Manpreet, his mother, pinched his cheek. "They will be here by three and we will leave at four. The program is at five-thirty. Go get a bath." After having a peaceful bath, he went out with his father to get the necessities. Manpreet had listed, "Go get some jalebis, burfees, and laddoos. Don't forget samosas and pakoras." An hour passed, and father and son were ready with the requirements. Amar noticed his grandparents had arrived.

"Dada ji!" He gave him a tight hug, "Finally. I am very excited. We all are prepared. We are taking sweets, lassi, sharbat, a rug, and dhol." His grandfather grinned. Everything was going perfectly.

It was already past four and they were set for their destination, the Jallianwala Bagh. The time to reach was not more than sixty minutes, by a bullock cart. The journey was going casual. 

"We are here!" Amar jumped out of the cart gleefully. The garden looked meticulously magical. The lush green trees and shrubs provided a shed to pass by travelers and, benches were arranged in every area providing rest to enjoy the tranquil environment. Multiple families belonged to the Sikh, Hindu, Muslim, and Christian communities. The event started with a prayer to God and continued with Kirtans and folk songs. Amar was fascinated, as he had experienced such a celebration for the first time. People wore traditional Punjabi attire. Women wore salwar kameez with dupatta and some bangles with some more ornaments, while men wore kurta pajamas with a turban. 

Bhangra dances were performed and everything was lit. However, it wasn't just a joyous occasion. Some people were also protesting against the Rowlatt Act, passed by the British rulers in India. Speeches were given. 

General Dyer was aware of everything. His plan was to open fire to the unarmed crowd. The innocent people were unaware of such news. Amar perceived as soon as he saw the troops. 

He rushed to notify his parents but they were busy singing and dancing. He knew the best person he could talk to was his grandfather. 

"Dada ji! The British men are here. With guns and ammunition!" His grandfather was alarmed, "Oh no. We must get out of here. I will let everyone out." People started noticing.  The Colonel started shooting brutally and people ran hither and yon. Some people hid behind the trees while some jumped in the well. Some even ducked into buildings and tried to find something to protect themselves.  Adrenaline rushed and all were bewildered. 

Amar ran closing his eyes not knowing where he was leading. His parents searched for him but were shot in the meantime. Cries and moans were heard and the atmosphere turned humid. 

Amar felt a droplet of water on his head and soon the speed and number increased. He didn't realize it started to shower with thunder. 

Amar opened his eyes and tried to stop his tears. Hundreds of people lay down dead and bloody. The little boy hadn't imagined such a situation. "Am I the only one alive here? Where are mummy, pita ji, and dada-dadi?" Everything was hard to sink in. He stood amidst the haunting silence surrounded by lifeless bodies. 

A Britisher approached him asking," Young boy, no one is here. All are dead. You are lucky to survive. Come with me." He pulled Amar's arm but Amar pulled back and started crying. "Silly child. You must be killed too." 

 The thirteenth of April 1919 was a frightening day for India. The earth felt the tears as droplets fell from the sky; When the Sky Wept.