My wife told me later that the day after Indira Gandhi's death, they saw a mob enter the area and burn that gurdwara. Then they set my brand new car on fire and started attacking my house. Fortunately, a Hindu friend came and took away my wife and two children to his house. My father and brothers, who were living with us, had a narrow escape too. They were rescued by my friend. The mob then went across to our factory and looted all the machinery before setting ablaze whatever was left. When I heard about my family's plight and the destruction of my factory I wanted to return immediately. But my parents told me not to come back till it was safe.

When I returned on November 11, I drove straight to the factory. The mob had made sure that everything had been destroyed. To my dismay I discovered that my insurance policies for the factories, house and car did not cover riots and arson. At that time no one could imagine such a thing would happen in Delhi. My wife was scared since my anger could be uncontrollable. But I assured her, "I am neither here to fight nor am I going to be a coward." I also felt that if I focused on who was responsible for the attacks I would not be able to make any progress because there is no way you can do business if your mind is occupied with that question. Revenge was not an answer since it would start an endless chain of vengefulness. My parents also advised me that the amount of energy I would invest to bring the culprits to justice could be diverted into my work to let my business flourish.

So I decided to reestablish myself. On the day I returned, I borrowed a table and a chair and put it on the road. I got a temporary phone line and got down to work. The loss to the factories was estimated at Rs 30 lakh. But the government policy was to give a maximum of Rs 50,000, whatever the loss. My father was after me to accept at least that amount. But when I went to the court, to my surprise the insurance company said it would charge Rs 33,000 for each assessment leaving me with only Rs 17,000. I refused to take such a paltry compensation from the government.

I paid my bank loans by selling properties we owned. Even though I was hard-pressed for funds I refused to sell the destroyed machinery. I buried all those under the foundation of the reconstructed factory as a reminder. From that day I discarded all my colourful turbans and wore only white ones.

PICTURE SPEAK

RAYS OF HOPE: Singh at the gurdwara he is helping build

I became successful again by going to untapped markets. I learnt Spanish and sold my garments to Latin American companies. My turnover is now over Rs 100 crore and I have won several government and industry awards. My friends call me Christopher Columbus for discovering the potential of the South American market. I am now helping build a beautiful gurdwara that would be a fine piece of architecture.

I still believe and hope that the culprits will be brought to book finally to show that justice exists.

The reports of the commissions are just a bundle of papers as those who are receiving them don't want justice to be meted out. Everybody wants to save his or her skin. They must remember that they are not giving justice only to me or the people who have survived but also for the departed souls.

My only appeal is, let us be the pride of Hindustan-don't take that away.

BALBIR SINGH, 35 "I don't have a proper job or money to send my three children to school. Our hearts are still full of hurt and anger."

Balbir with his mother Mirchi Kaur

I am still scared of growing my hair long and wearing a turban. I have nightmares about the way my father, Chautha Singh, and an uncle were lynched. I was just 14 then and living in Trilokpuri where we made coir mats at home. When news came of Indira Gandhi's murder and riots broke out, I remember my father saying that Delhi was the capital and violence would be contained soon. He said nobody would attack us since we were poor. Moreover, we supported Congress leader H.K.L. Bhagat. When the mob came, the police assured us that they would not allow them to enter our area and told us to return home.

The police then took away all our small arms. They seemed to have facilitated the rioters. For, we saw an even larger mob approach us with crowbars and cans of kerosene. They started beating all the men and abused them. I, along with my mother, and three brothers hid in my uncle's house. The mob came there too and broke open the door. My mother had dressed us all up as girls and so we were spared. But they pulled out my uncle and the huge crowd beat him up with crowbars. They hit him so hard on his head that even his eyes popped out. Then they put kerosene on him and burnt him to death. They also set the house afire. They wanted to dishonour my mother and an aunt and kill us too. They said: "Ye saanp ke bachche hain. Kill them one by one." Jumping over burning dead bodies littered on the streets, we ran to a nearby village where a milkman gave us shelter.

My father and youngest brother were still missing. So a couple of days later with the army protecting us, we went back to where our home was. My mother saw my father's charred body and fainted. Even dogs would have been treated better. Later, friends said my father was carrying Indira Gandhi's photograph, telling the mob that he considered her an older sister. He told them that Bhagat had visited our house. But apparently they just laughed and beat him to death. There was a tall doctor who took out his eyes as he did to others who died.

We found my brother in a local hospital, still alive. After living in tents for months, we were allotted a house in Tilak Vihar where my mother, I and three brothers are now staying crammed together. The allotment is not permanent and the facilities are poor. Rarely do you find a colony full of widows and no elderly male members. There are people here who lost five members of their family. In one family, 11 members were killed. Our hearts are full of anger but we are helpless. We have no jobs and I don't have enough money to send my three children to school. I do a part-time job in a small factory.

Countless people have been butchered and no one has been convicted. The station inspector was promoted as a deputy superintendent of police. The MP of the area became a minister. The policy seemed to be "kill five persons and you will get a promotion. Kill 10 people and you would get a double promotion". We want to see all of them punished. Those who killed my father must be hanged. Otherwise all those who have suffered would take the law in their own hands.

The Congress party, which I believe arranged to get the mob to attack us, is back in power. Now even the prime minister has assured that justice would be done. Congress government had given us wounds and it must now provide a balm. It is not enough for the Government to be ashamed and say sorry. Our children have become idle. We can't pay for their education and the standard of teaching is not good. There is no employment for them and they start smoking crack and become addicts.

Our first need is employment. Then the prime minister can claim he has done something.

There is a saying that an elephant has two teeth-one to show and the other to chew. Our first demand is that we be rehabilitated and the other is that the culprits who were responsible for the massacre be given capital punishment. We pray to God that no other community is subjected to what we have been through.

SURINDER KAUR, 25 "Those who killed my parents roam free. This is a useless country of uncaring people."

ORPHANED HOPES: She was only four when her father, mother and brother were killed and their lathe factory was destroyed. Now a graduate, she is looking for a job and lives in quiet despair.

I was just four when I became an orphan. I can only vaguely remember how my father and mother looked. After they were killed and our house was burnt down by the mob, their wedding photographs were lost too. I recall that we used to live in Nandnagari in East Delhi. My father had his own lathe factory which was running well. We were four sisters and we had a brother who was killed along with my father.

I was the youngest of the children. Now I live with my eldest sister, who is 12 years older and who brought me up. Even now she goes into deep depression whenever she talks about that day. She says that my father and brother ran towards the police station to take shelter there. But the mob went in and killed them while the police watched. My mother, who tried to save them, was hit with bricks and she died too. All I remember is that we were hiding when the crowd attacked our house and started beating my parents. My father was just 35 then. For a while we lived in Nari Niketan till our maternal grandfather took us to live with him in his village in Rajasthan.

When my sister got married we shifted back to Delhi. In school, I used to feel bad when anyone asked me about my parents. I could never enjoy life. I didn't feel like playing. I never went out. We always lived in fear.

We spent our day trying to overcome a myriad of problems. But we also learnt to live through hell. I did my BA from Laxmi Bai College. Now I am doing my MA through correspondence. I want to become a teacher and I am searching for a job.

I still find it difficult to trust anyone. I do miss my parents. I pray daily at home and go to the gurdwara on Sundays. I sometimes fight with God asking him why this should have happened to us. I think there should be only one religion. Then 1984 would never have happened. People say that India is a wonderful country with loving people. I think it is a useless country where people are uncaring. My sister went to court several times and did point a finger at those people who killed our parents. But they were taken into custody and freed soon. It is 21 years now and the guilty roam around with impunity.

What hope should I have in a nation like this? Only when the guilty are punished will my faith return. The government should also compensate us. At least they should help us with a job to earn and live well.

HARBANS KAUR, 72 "We Have no hatred or ill-feelings towards Hindus. I know justice is now in God's hands."

BETRAYAL OF FAITH: Kaur didn't fall victim to depression even though her husband was killed by the mob and her son seriously injured in the ghastly violence. She not only managed his factory for making gauges successfully but also brought up her four daughters and two sons.

I live my life from prayer to prayer. Although my husband was killed brutally by a mob and my son seriously injured we do not have a feeling of hatred or anger against the Hindus. The Sikhs were originally Hindus. Our great Gurus were Hindus. Even today we live like a big joint family so we have no ill-feelings towards our Hindu brethren.

Even now, my children break down when they remember how their father was killed. We were then living in a rented accommodation. My husband, Kartar Singh, was around 50 then. We had got married in Jalandhar. He was a science graduate. I am a matriculate. We had four daughters and two sons. He had a small factory which manufactured gas meters, medical magnets and transistors and so on.

On October 31, 1984 my husband came back from work in the afternoon. I thought he had come to have lunch as usual. But he told me that he had heard some Sikhs had killed Indira Gandhi and he was afraid that the factory would be attacked so he had declared a holiday. We didn't go out for the next three days and we thought the worst was over. Only our youngest son, who was a first year engineering student, and a nephew was staying with us then. But on November 3, a mob surrounded our house. My husband, who sensed danger, decided to hide at one of our Hindu neighbour's house. They hid him below a bed and covered it with some toys.

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