The Amritsar Massacre
England tore down street after street. He had to find her. He had to find her. When he finally reached the courtyard, blocked on all sides by buildings, he was in no way prepared for what he saw.
Bodies. Bodies littered everywhere. Men, women and children, flung to each corner, lying broken and bleeding. Blood on the ground, blood on the walls. The well, a gaping hole in the ground, the escape route for so many doomed souls.
England sagged against one of the walls, sickened to his very core at what lay before his eyes.
General Dyer was an evil man.
Then he saw her, curled beside the well, head buried in her arms, her long plaits thrown out like discarded ropes. They were matted with blood.
India, the jewel in the crown of the British empire.
"Lakshmi!" he cried, running over and kneeling beside her prone form. "Lakshmi," he whispered, reaching out to touch her. When his pale fingers ghosted over her head, she snapped up with a growl. England fell back in shock, now sitting on the hard, blood-slicked stone ground.
Her face was bruised, a long cut running across her right cheek. Tears ran down her battered cheeks and her eyes were bloodshot, but they glowed with hatred.
"Get away from me," she said venomously.
"But… I want to help you," he replied faintly.
India coughed convulsively, spitting blood onto the tiles, clutching at her torso.
"This is your fault," she said, in a low, dangerous voice.
"This was General Dyer's fault! Please," England pleaded, "please let me help you! I didn't want this!"
"But you haven't punished him." India fell back to the ground, spent. "Just leave me. Go. Get out. Get out of my sight, my courtyard, my country."
England felt tears spring to his eyes. The sight of his beautiful Lakshmi, lying half-dead on the ground, made his heart feel like it was being torn in two.
"Please," he begged, taking one of her hands. It had a bullet hole in it. "I love you," he whispered, allowing the tears to escape.
"Then love for the English must be different to love for the Indians," she spat, "because 1,526 casualties isn't love."
I saw the Gandhi film recently, and this scene just burned into my mind and I knew I had to write something about it.
I got '1,526 casualties' from Wikipedia, the number that the civil surgeon suggested.
It's true that the British government did not order the massacre, but it is also true that General Dyer, the man responsible for ordering the killing, wasn't punished immediately because lots of high-ups approved of what he did. It's sad but true.
Reviews are much appreciated.