Mariam was a beautiful Indian lady with smooth brown skin, and lovely long and glossy brown hair, her almond-shaped green eyes were captivating, and her smile was warm and welcoming.
During her time, her country was under the British Empire. In 1600, they formed a company called 'The East India Company' where they traded with India, and traders became conquerors. In 1858, the Indian people started to rebel against the East India India Company. The rebellions were crushed and the company was destroyed. Now it's under the British Raj.
Mariam was a devotee Christian. She would pray to Lord Jesus about freeing India from the shackles. The blood of innocents had spread across the Motherland. She doesn't have a strength.
She was at the Jallianwala Bagh along with men, women, and children and they all peacefully protested against the arrest of two national leaders, Saifuddin Kitchlew and Satyapal. Captain Dyer along with his 50 troops arrived. His troops were armed with 303 Lee-Enfield bolt-action riffles. Dyer had also brought two armored cars armed with a machine gun.
Without giving any warning, he ordered his troops to block the main exit and began shooting at the crowd. As soon as Mariam heard the banging sound. She screamed and panicked as she tried to ran and escape. Some jumped into the well. Unarmed men, women and children were killed. Many more were injured. The news of the massacre spread like wildfire. It encouraged more to stand up and fight for India's freedom.
Mariam was very angry. She screamed saying that they will pay for this. She was breathing heavily. She was growling. Why would someone like him do such a thing? He had no heart. And what worse, the English Newspaper considered him as hero. They are a monsters! All of them!
Mariam stood amidst the chaos, her heart pounding with rage and determination. The blood-soaked ground of Jallianwala Bagh bore witness to the atrocity committed by Captain Dyer and his troops. But Mariam was no ordinary woman; she carried a fire within her—a flame of defiance that would ignite a revolution.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Mariam retreated to a secluded corner of the garden. She knelt on the blood-stained earth, her hands clasped in prayer. “Lord Jesus,” she whispered, “grant me strength. Let this suffering not be in vain. I shall rise like a phoenix, and my people shall know freedom.”
That night, Mariam dreamt of a warrior clad in armor, a vision that stirred her soul. She saw herself leading an army, her hair unbound, eyes ablaze with purpose. The warrior spoke to her: “Mariam, daughter of India, your spirit burns brighter than any sun. Rise, for your people cry out for deliverance.”
Inspired by her dream, Mariam sought out the wise elders of her village. They told her of ancient prophecies—the coming of a savior who would lead India to independence. Mariam knew she was that chosen one. She would be India’s Joan of Arc.
She gathered a band of loyal followers—farmers, poets, and laborers. They trained in secret, their hearts aflame with the dream of liberation. Mariam’s eyes sparkled with determination as she donned armor made from repurposed plows and shields crafted from hope.
Her first battle took place at dawn, in the mist-shrouded fields. The British soldiers, complacent and arrogant, never expected a woman to lead the charge. But Mariam’s sword cut through their ranks like lightning. She fought with the fury of a thousand wronged souls, her battle cry echoing across the land.
Word spread of the warrior woman who defied the oppressors. Villages rose up, joining her cause. Mariam’s legend grew, and songs were composed in her honor. She became the symbol of resistance—the embodiment of India’s longing for freedom.
Yet, like Joan of Arc, Mariam faced doubt and betrayal. Some questioned her divine purpose; others feared her power. But she pressed on, her unwavering faith fueling her every step. She rallied her troops with fiery speeches, invoking the spirits of ancient warriors and promising a new dawn.
In the decisive battle at Amritsar, Mariam faced Captain Dyer once more. His eyes widened as he recognized her—the woman who defied death itself. Their swords clashed, and Mariam’s blade found its mark. Dyer fell, defeated but unrepentant. As he gasped for breath, Mariam leaned close.
“Your heart may be stone,” she whispered, “but mine beats for a free India.”
Mariam’s victory was bittersweet. The English newspapers now vilified her, calling her a dangerous fanatic. But the people knew the truth—the flame of freedom burned within her, unstoppable.
And so, Mariam continued her quest. She rode into battle, her hair streaming behind her like a banner. She led her people with courage and compassion, never forgetting the innocents who fell at Jallianwala Bagh. Her name echoed through history, whispered by those who dared to dream of a liberated India.
Mariam, the warrior, the visionary, the flame of freedom—she blazed a trail for generations to come. And as she rode into the sunset, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon, she knew that her sacrifice was not in vain. India would rise, and Mariam’s spirit would forever dance in the hearts of her people.
And so it was written: Mariam, India’s Joan of Arc, ignited the flame that would consume an empire and birth a nation.
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