‘The guardian angels of life sometimes fly so high as to be beyond our sight, but they are always looking down upon us.’ Jean Paul
When we become parents, our first and foremost priority is our children. We pray, day and night, for their safety and well being. For their sake, we start believing in the things that we considered preposterous in our youthful hubris. The non-believer turns believer, the atheist becomes theist and the agnostic turns a devout, all for the sake of their children.
The year was 1989. Terrorism was at its peak in the state of Punjab. I was in the ninth grade when one night, a group of misled and trigger-happy youth, brainwashed by the ones with subjective aspirations, opened fire and snuffed out the lives of 19 budding engineers in the prestigious Thapar College of Engineering, Patiala.
The deceased boys were visiting the said campus for the college’s annual youth festival. They came from different states and after a day of hectic yet exciting activities- dramatics, singing and dancing, had put their limbs to rest hoping to rejuvenate them for the next day’s events. Some of them were even dreaming of kissing the Trophy and taking home a plethora of memories to cherish for a lifetime.
Early morning, the news reached the city residents before the newspaper and a pall of gloom descended upon the entire city. I reached school with a heavy heart and no sooner did our Principal read out a condolence prayer for the deceased than I started to cry. No matter how much I tried, I could not stop the tears that involuntarily ran out in channels. I was unable to keep them in check even during classes and therefore my class teacher called me to the staff room and asked if I was related to any one of the boys. I told her I was not and yet I felt a deep connection with them. The teacher, unable to comprehend my grief, offered me a glass of water and sent me back to the classroom.
Fast forward to 2019. I was at NIT Kurukshetra for my daughter’s admission. We were standing in a queue outside the Admission Cell, waiting for our turn to get the documents verified by the competent authorities. A checklist was displayed outside the room for the required documents to be attached alongside the admission form. As we went through the list, we realised that we were short of a copy of some particular document. My daughter stood in the queue while I rushed outside to get a photocopy of the document.
Somebody directed me to the college Library for the said purpose. I entered the Library and the first thing I saw made me stop in my tracks. There, displayed on the walls were the photographs of the students of the college, who were massacred thirty years ago in Patiala (this was mentioned above their photographs). I bowed my head in reverence, joined my hands and muttered a silent prayer. I told them, ‘I cried for you even when I didn’t know any of you. I’m leaving behind my daughter in your care. Please be my daughter’s Guardian Angels.’
My daughter has finished her engineering and is busy making plans for her future ahead. She doesn’t believe in the concept of ‘Guardian Angels’. Youthful hubris, I guess.
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