Book Review: Finding Humanity and Hope Within Stories of Conflict in Punjab

In ‘Faith, Gender, and Activism in the Punjab Conflict’, Mallika Kaur provides an extensive account of the violence and brutalities while also focusing on those fighting fearlessly for justice.

“Time heals” is an often-repeated cliché. Presumably, time helps people leave behind the painful tragedies of the past and enables them to move on with life. This is how human beings normally come to terms with what appears impossible to live through, their experiences of violence and loss. However, all tragic moments or events do not have a similar afterlife. Human memory does not follow a linear pattern of remembering and forgetting; it has a very complicated existence, with multiple undercurrents. Even when many details are forgotten, some things remain.

Memories cannot be treated as mere mental or psychological hangovers. They have political and sociological sides to them. There are events and moments that become part of the collective memory, and are thus converted into defining moments in the making of communities and nation states. Examples of this could be the German Holocaust of the mid-20th century or the Partition of the subcontinent in 1947. Besides their historical significance and their institutionalisations through annual rituals, museums and chapters in history textbooks, they are also being constantly remembered and “lived”, even by those who have had no first-hand experience of the events or the sufferings they entailed. They are invented and reinvented by the later generations in their own contexts and for their own politics, even when the regimes in power may actively attempt to erase them from the collective memory. They tend to live on, secretly and oftentimes not so secretly.

Mallika Kaur
Faith, Gender, and Activism in the Punjab Conflict: The Wheat Fields Still Whisper
Palgrave Macmillan, 2019

It is in this context that the book under review, Faith, Gender, and Activism in the Punjab Conflict: The Wheat Fields Still Whisper, ought to be seen and read. Professor Richard Buxbaum highlights this in his foreword to Mallika Kaur’s book. Referring to the troubled times in the Indian Punjab and for the Sikhs across India during the 1980s, he writes: “Endemic violence not only disrupts; over time it also constructs lives, communities, places, political affiliations, and—perhaps above all—gendered categories and identities.”

The author of the book, Mallika Kaur, was born in 1984. She largely grew up in Punjab and then went to college in the US, where she studied in some of the leading universities of the world. Besides being actively involved with issues of gender rights, Kaur currently teaches at the University of California and also practices law. Her book is a combination of all these fields. Given her academic training, the book is based on rigorous first-hand historical research and field interviews with relevant actors. The book is also a document for advocacy of human rights and shows her passionate engagement with the subject. It is far from a “neutral” academic account of the event of 1984. The book has been written to systematically record stories of extensive violation of basic individual rights and the brutal cases of violence, inflicted by the state actors. Her focus is on the later part of the troubled years in Punjab, post Operation Bluestar.

The Punjab story of the 1980s is hardly forgotten. We also have a large volume of scholarly and journalistic accounts published over the past three decades or so to remind us of this. Some insiders, including those working with state and Central governments at that time, have published stories and accounts of what led to those tragic years and the events that unfolded.

Also read: Exploring Punjab’s Convoluted Past

The dominant narratives on Punjab of the 1980s have mostly been told as the story of a deep crisis of Indian nationhood, its legitimacy and the failures of its federalist politics. This is true even about those critical of the Indian government’s handling of the Sikh militancy. As is well-known, the beginning of the “Punjab crisis” of the 1980s is attributed to the Akali demand for autonomy. This was soon followed by the rise of Bhindranwale and his alleged demand for Khalistan, a separate nation-state. The Sikh separatists unleashed terrorist violence, often killing innocent people, in order draw attention to their demand. The Indian state responded with all its brutal might, sending in the Indian army to violently attack and ransack Darbar Sahib (the Golden Temple) in Amritsar. Besides killing the leaders of the Sikh separatist movement and damaging the holy shrine, thousands of innocent devotees were also killed during Operation Bluestar in June 1984.

Mallika Kaur. Photo: Twitter/@mallikakaur

This, however, did not end the violence. In less than six months, the serving prime minister of India, Indira Gandhi, was gunned down by her Sikh bodyguards. More violence followed. Thousands of innocent Sikhs were ruthlessly butchered during the first week of November 1984 in Delhi and elsewhere in the country. As a series of independent inquiries revealed, the murderous mobs were unleashed by the ruling establishment. The police stood by, rarely helping the innocent. The Indian judiciary also failed the victims of the Delhi violence.

This only further strengthened the Sikh militancy and the response of the state agencies became far more vicious. The police were given complete autonomy to deal with the violence. Besides listing and targeting Sikh youth, presumably involved with the militant movements, the police also infiltrated the ranks of Sikh militants. The police were even monetarily rewarded. Many officials saw in it opportunities for making money through extortion bids.

Also read: The 1919 Amritsar Violence, Through Saadat Hasan Manto’s Eyes

As Kaur’s book documents, underneath this war were innumerable stories of violence and abuse of individual human rights, cases of physical torture and killings, disappearances of youth, and complete disregard for individual dignity. However, even during such violent and dark times, there were individuals in Punjab who continued to raise issues of rights. Besides appealing in the courts, they often confronted the police officials, prepared documents and pursued cases, including lobbying with agencies and individuals outside India. Kaur’s book is woven around three such individuals – Ajit Singh Bains, Baljit Kaur and Inderjit Singh Jaijee – who, through their relentless work, “saved countless lives” even in times when hope seemed like the last thing possible. They were also the core sources for the material that the author uses for her book.

While providing an extensive and often extremely depressing account of violence and brutalities, Kaur also shows, by focusing on the work of these fearless human rights warriors, how humanity and hope has the ability to endure.

Surinder S. Jodhka is a professor of sociology at Jawaharlal Nehru University.

Punjab 1947: Bloodied and Partitioned by Competing Nationalisms

A rare contemporary report reveals how the Muslim League, Akalis, RSS and Hindu Mahasabha used armed bands to exterminate minorities in targeted areas in their ongoing power struggle – aided by an administration geared not to stop the riots but to spread them.  

In August 1947, as India gained independence in an atmosphere rife with communalism, Punjab witnessed the bloodletting of Partition on a scale never seen before. Around one million people were killed and over ten million crossed the border – Muslims from East Punjab (in India) to West Punjab (in Pakistan), and Hindus and Sikhs from West Pakistan to East Pakistan. Such was the level of communal savagery that there was a near-total cleansing of minorities on both sides of divided Punjab.

There are various views on the partition of Punjab, one of them being that it was clashes among adherents of different religions that led to the division of Punjab.

Sugata Bose
The Nation as Mother and Other Visions of Nationhood
Penguin Random House, 2017

However, the situation in Punjab was more complex. As eminent historian Sugata Bose points out in his book, The Nation as Mother and Other Visions of Nationhood, the “British colonial scheme of enumeration of religious communities in India and the privileging of religious distinction in defining majorities and minorities for political representation triggered acrid communitarian discourses among those seeking the state’s differential patronage. Punjab with competitive religious landscape was worse affected in the 19th century as it gave rise to politics of communitarian bigotry”. Most Indians simply refer to it as the British policy of ‘divide and rule’.

The scheme of enumeration, or census, made the Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs in Punjab evaluate their community’s relative strengths and the differences that set them apart from the others. The political actors of each community accentuated those differences to build up their respective ‘nationalisms’.

They readily played their cards of communitarian nationalism while forming their own armed bands and unleashing violence on the minority community that they were ranged against, to force them to flee targeted areas. These armed bands, comprising criminals, ex-soldiers and trained mercenaries, were let loose in urban and rural areas to kill, loot, rape and abduct women.

The organised savagery of Muslim bands was met with equally brutal retaliation by Hindu-Sikh armed bands in their respective areas of domination. The Punjab Governor Evan Jenkins described the bloodletting as an outcome of the ongoing “power struggle”.

Partition triggered the largest mass migration in human history. Photo: Photo Division, Government of India

Be it the Hindus and Sikhs or the Muslims, all of them attempted to establish control over as many of the 29 Punjab districts as was possible in the period between June 3, 1947, when Mountbatten announced the Partition Plan, till the handing over of power to the East and West Punjab governments in mid-August 1947. According to the 1941 census, Punjab’s population, including the princely states, was around 340 million – Muslims were in a majority (53.2%), followed by Hindus (29.1 % including 6.4 % Dalits), Sikhs (14.9 %) and Christians (1.9 %).

Also read: Love in the Time of Partition

Such were the times that even the Punjab Boundary Force (PBF), formed under Major-General Rees to maintain peace in August 1947 when the violence was at its peak, could not escape getting communalised.  The Baloch, Dogra, and Sikh regiments not only provoked violence but also got actively involved in the killings and looting.

Similarly, the civil and police administration was openly divided along religious lines and failed miserably to protect millions of innocent Punjabis who were desperately seeking to keep their families safe.

The killing of thousands of menial workers, labourers, landless and homeless poor on both sides of the border went completely unnoticed. Urvashi Butalia, in her book Other Side of Silence: Voices from the Partition of India, writes that the massacre of such people has faded into oblivion.

L: Urvashi Butalia
Other Side of Silence: Voices from the Partition of India
Penguin Random House, 2017
R: Rajmohan Gandhi
Punjab: A History from Aurangzeb to Mountbatten
Aleph Book Company, 2013

Rajmohan Gandhi, the author of Punjab: A History from Aurangzeb to Mountbatten, also rues the fact that the names of such marginalised people now stand erased from the collective memory of Punjabis. The fact is that neither India nor Pakistan kept any record of such victims as their names did not figure in the revenue registers of both the countries. Both countries did not bother to prepare a reliable survey of the dead either.

Various estimates of the number of people killed in Partition violence in West and East Punjab have been put forward – as mentioned earlier in this article, several researchers have estimated that at least one million people were killed and nine million people were uprooted and fled across the border on both sides.

Also read: How Can We Understand India’s Fractured Independence?

Ishtiaq Ahmed
The Punjab Bloodied, Partitioned and Cleansed
Rupa, 2011

Ishtiaq Ahmed, the author of the well-researched book The Punjab Bloodied, Partitioned and Cleansed, puts the death toll between six to eight lakh people. But he also refers to Pakistan’s census of 1951, which showed that 14 million Punjabis moved across the frontline – eight million Muslims from East Punjab and six million Hindus and Sikhs from West Punjab.

The other searing figure captures the plight of women on both sides – nearly three lakh women were abducted. To prevent that from happening at that juncture, many young women were killed by their parents or they jumped into wells, canals, and ponds to end their lives in the name of family honour.

Comrade Dhanwantri’s contemporary account on Partition violence

Among the reliable commentaries of that time on the causes and the extent of Partition violence is a report by Comrade Dhanwantri, who was a comrade-in-arms of Shaheed Bhagat Singh. A rare copy of that report is available in the Jawaharlal Nehru University library.

As a fellow fighter and organiser of the Naujawan Bharat Sabha, Dhanwantri was jailed in the Andamans for seven years. On his release in 1939, he was elected president of the Lahore District Congress Committee. He witnessed the beginning of violence in March 1947 in Lahore which soon engulfed central and eastern Punjab. His 20-page report, along with the 10-page report of PC Joshi, veteran leader of the Communist Party of India, was published as a booklet in September 1947, titled Bleeding Punjab Warns.

In the last week of August 1947, Dhanwantri and Gadar Party leader Baba Gurmukh Singh met Nehru in Delhi to apprise him of the causes and extent of the violence.

The report states, “In Punjab, it was a regular war of extermination [against] minorities, of Sikhs and Hindus in Western Punjab and of Muslims in Eastern Punjab. The trained bands equipped with firearms and modern weapons were the main killers, looters, and rapists. These were the storm troops of various communal parties such as the National Guards of the Muslim League in Muslim-dominated West Punjab and the Shaheedi Dal (Martyrs’ Battalion) of Akalis (representing Sikhs) and Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh (RSS) and Hindu Mahasabha (a combine) in Eastern Punjab.

“They were actively aided and often actually led by police and the military in committing the worst atrocities. The entire administration was geared not to stop the riots but to spread it—the Punjab tragedy is without a parallel.”

A riot scene in Punjab visited by Mountbatten. Photo: eBay, May 2010

Tracing the political developments, the report says, “The provocative Attlee (British Prime Minister) Declaration of February 20, 1947, had laid the basis for the division of India” and fast political developments took place in Punjab. Premier Khizar Hyat resigned on March 2, causing a political and constitutional crisis.

“The next day, Akali leader Master Tara Singh, waving his kirpan (sword), denounced the demand of Pakistan at a public meeting, leading to violent clashes between Hindu-Sikhs and Muslim opponents in Lahore. Overnight the atmosphere in the whole of Punjab became charged, with communal poison spreading to Multan, Rawalpindi, Amritsar and Julundhur [now Jalandhar].”

Preparation for retaliation

Chronicling this aspect, the report states, “Retaliation was roused in Central and East Punjab by RSS among the Hindus and by the Akalis among the Sikhs.”  Also, “In towns, RSS was rapidly gaining ground. The Congress in Punjab has always been weak, being based mainly among traders and professionals and grew further weaker after it allied with Unionist Party to form a government under Khizar Hyat in Punjab.

“Thus, the RSS took leadership in towns to rouse retaliation on the communal slogan of [establishing) ‘Akhand Bharat’ by force. The RSS in Punjab took to arming its members with daggers, swords, soon to get revolvers and other firearms [sic]. They also set about preparing bombs for attacking Muslims. In the biggest single action, RSS used rifles, bombs, and revolvers in April during an attack on Rajgarh, a Muslim suburb of Lahore, and several Muslims were killed.”

Also read: We Best Remember Partition When We Connect the Dots from 1947 to 1984 and 2002

Rajmohan Gandhi writes in his book that on the eve of Partition, RSS had around 53,000 volunteers located in the urban areas of Punjab.

As for the Akalis, the report states, “Akalis formed each Shaheedi Dal of 16 volunteers, of whom six were armed with rifles and the rest with swords and spears. They also formed bands of horsemen and soon jeeps and motor trucks [were] brought in for use by their armed force.”

“On the other side, in Lahore and in West Punjab, the Muslim National Guards were similarly armed with the help of [the princely state of] Bahawalpur and from the Frontier Province. They had the backing of big landlords of whom Feroz Khan Noon was the most active.”

The role of the princely states

The Sikh princely states like Patiala, Jind, Nabha, Faridkot and Kapurthala extended “all-out help to bands [sponsored by the Akali leadership] and [made] use of refugees [migrating in distress from West Punjab originally] to rouse the spirit of retaliation among the villagers and to win their popular support.

A refugee camp in Punjab, 1947. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

“The Maharaja of Patiala opened refugee camps, therefrom tales of atrocities by Muslims fast spread in East Punjab. The princely ruler of Faridkot supplied a number of jeeps to the Akali bands.”

The report also notes that “Bahawalpur supplied arms to Muslim National Guards and the [prince of] Kapurthala opened a training camp for RSS bands in his areas.”

Dhanwantri’s report makes a special mention of an attack planned by the Akalis’ Shaheedi Dal on a Pakistan Special, a passenger train carrying senior Muslim bureaucrats and their families that left Delhi on August 10, 1947, for Karachi. A special band from Patiala was despatched for an act of sabotage which, however, was pre-empted following an information leak.

Interestingly, Nisid Hajari, an American writer, editor and foreign affairs commentator, mentions in his acclaimed book Midnight’s Furies: The Deadly Legacy of Indian Partition that a plan was hatched by a Sikh band to kill Jinnah in August 1947. That, too, was thwarted following an alert intelligence input.  Lord Mountbatten specially called a British CID officer from Lahore to Delhi to reveal the plan in the presence of Nehru, Patel, and Jinnah. On learning about the design to kill him, a furious Jinnah insisted on registering a police case against Akali supremo Master Tara Singh.

The political aim of the Akalis

Throwing light on the intent of the Akalis, Joshi writes in his report that “the Akali leadership ruled the day through armed bands. Their political aim [was] to get a dominant hold over the East Punjab government. They distributed leaflets for establishing ‘Khalistan’….. an Empire of Khalsa as left by Maharaja Ranjit Singh.”

He points out, “In fact, what they (Akalis) are planning [is] a confederation of the Sikh states, and the Sikh central districts of Punjab around Patiala (princely state) as the base.”

Ahmed and G.D. Khosla (in The Partition Omnibus) also talk about the ‘Sikh Plan’ and ‘Muslim Plan’, which led to what Dhanwantri terms a “systematic campaign of mass extermination of minorities”.

The bestiality of the times

The genocide of minorities went hand in hand with the use of places of religious worship for storing arms and sheltering killers.

Dhanwantri writes that “Muslim women were stripped naked and made to parade in the streets of Amritsar. There was even public raping of women. Women’s breasts [were] cut off and Muslim children’s heads have been displayed on spearheads. [In retaliation], in the streets of Sialkot, Sikh and Hindu women were paraded naked in public and mass raping took place the same as was in Amritsar. The same [atrocities] were repeated in Sheikhupura, Pakistan.”

Passenger trains overloaded with refugees were attacked on both sides of the border.

Trains overflowing with refugees, Punjab 1947. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Role of the Communist Party and the red flag

Another aspect of Partition was that industrial units in Lahore, Amritsar, Sialkot and other cities lay shattered, with lakhs of workers migrating from East to West Punjab and vice versa. Dhanwantri notes, “From the very beginning the Communist Party, the trade union and kisan movements under [the] Red Flag saw the rising menace and tried to fight against it. In the towns, we tied to keep the unity of Muslim, Sikh and Hindu workers. This unity could not easily be broken from within. The bureaucrats and the communal bands could not set worker against worker.”

But industrial workers were rarely involved in communal killings; rather, they helped co-workers of other religions to reach safe places, writes Dhanwantri. In the process, several trade union leaders were killed either by bands or even by communalised police.

A glaring example was that of Siri Chand, a leader of the Railway Workers Union. He and his family members were shot dead by Muslim constables who had called them to the police station in Lahore. Similarly, CPI leaders like Gahal Singh Chhajalwadhi, Megh Singh and Suba Singh from Kot Dharamchand in Amritsar were shot dead by armed members of the Shaheedi Dal for protecting Muslim refugees.

Despite all this, writes Rajmohan Gandhi, a sense of humanity, sympathy and cultural affinity among Punjabis outpaced the communal hate and frenzy – those who saved their fellow Punjabis outnumbered the killers and looters. That is why, he asserts, 44 lakh Muslims from East Punjab and 36 lakh Hindus and Sikhs from West Punjab safely crossed the border during the worst time of civil strife.

The tussle between RSS and Akali leadership

Dhanwantri throws light on the activities of the RSS and Akali leadership as well: “Entire administration of East Punjab collapsed [in August], when Punjab was partitioned] and new recruits were being taken to [fill] the vacancies caused by Muslims who were sent to West Punjab. The RSS and Akali bands were burrowing into these services. The RSS want Bakshi Tek Chand to be Governor and Rai Bahadur Badri Das as Premier. Akalis want their nominee to be the Governor”.

The bands were disarmed after Nehru rushed to Amritsar and stayed there for two days — August 18 and 19 — immediately after the Independence Day celebrations.  But that Hindu and Sikh communitarian tussle laid the foundation of what the media termed the “Punjab problem”, later manifested in the tragic flashpoints of Operation Blue Star in June 1984 and the November 1984 anti-Sikh pogrom, followed by a decade-long period of bloodshed in Punjab.

In the 75th year of Independence, and Partition, it might be a good thing to recall the India Independence Bill debate of 74 years ago As the UK Parliament debated the Independence Bill, MPs like Colonel Alan Duncan argued that “it is clear that no actual division on the ground will ever solve the Sikh problems unless there is [a] united Punjab.”  MP Godfrey Nicholson of Farnham said, “ I think that the division of the Punjab is nothing less than a tragic (happening)… I believe Punjab will be reunited within a few years.”

Concluding the debate preceding the passage of the Act that accorded statehood to both India and Pakistan, Prime Minister Attlee had said, “I earnestly hope that this severance may not endure and that the two new dominions, may in course of time, come together again.”

The partition of Punjab not only gave rise to the knotty Punjab problem; it also created two inimical nations that have fought three wars against each other and show no signs of arriving anywhere close to being on the same page to start a meaningful dialogue.

Jaspal Singh Sidhu, a writer and independent journalist, retired as special correspondent from UNI, Delhi. He can be reached at jaspal.sdh@gmail.com.

A Daughter’s Search for a Mother’s Lost Home and Partition Memories

Marina Wheeler’s debut book, an attempt to reconstruct the past, is an engaging and lucid read.

Marina Wheeler’s first book is a tender portrait of her mother,  a woman overshadowed by her famous husband, the BBC correspondent Charles Wheeler – one of the most distinguished of broadcasters. Marina felt it was time for her mother, Dip, to have her days in the sun and to be publicly remembered. A graceful, multi-talented woman, Dip was one of the many whose family lost all they had at Partition. The title, The Lost Homestead, refers to Dip’s childhood home in the united Punjab, her very own paradise lost.

Maine Wheeler
The Lost Homestead: My Mother, Partition and the Punjab
Hodder & Stoughton/Hachette India, 2020

Dip belonged to a generation that underplayed emotion and kept personal pain to themselves. Interviewing her in the last years of her life, Marina broached many subjects with her mother for the first time, and to understand better what she was told, she embarked on her own discovery of India, its history, its politics, her family’s Sikh faith, and the very different ways people today perceive the past.

It has to said that she appears to have inherited her mother’s reticence. Marina was married to Boris Johnson, currently the British prime minister, for 25 years. Her marriage collapsed as she was researching this book, a fact she dismisses in just one sentence. She then goes one to add briefly that this ‘turbulence’ in her life made her mother’s loss unexpectedly immediate to her, and fuelled a determination to carve out another sort of life.

Certainly, with this book Marina has done what is for her something new and challenging. After Dip married Charles Wheeler in 1962 and left India with him for Berlin, she never once returned to India, thereby denying her daughter a chance to get to know the country. Marina was brought up British and her successful legal career – she is a QC specialising amongst other things in human rights – is based in Britain. So at the start of this project, Marina’s knowledge of India was limited to snippets of information, about ten words of Hindi and – alarmingly – she considered films like Gurinder Chadha’s Viceroy’s House a possible source of Indian history.

But once turned to India, Marina made use of all her considerable intellect, wisdom, compassion and her mother’s large, warm, extended Punjabi family – a family that never lost touch with Dip, Charles and their children. By marriage this extended family includes that of Sir Sobha Singh, the contractor who built much of New Delhi. Marina’s relatives, many of whom appear in the book, recommended people she should meet, and people she should read. She read widely and quotes from authors and historians such as  Ramachandra Guha, Patrick French, James Crabtree, Sheela Reddy, Urvashi Butalia, Ayesha Jalal, Yasmin Khan and Ian Talbot. She grappled with archives and travelled extensively, including several trips to India (one for a big fat family wedding) and to Pakistan. All this was necessary as she pursued her aim to put her mother’s life in the context of her times and her heritage.

Also read: Marina Wheeler’s New Book Revisits Partition in Her Search for ‘Lost Homestead’

The most famous literary figure in her family is of course the late Khushwant Singh. She attended the literary festival with a very Punjabi flavour held in his memory in Kasauli each year (except 2020) and turned to his works to learn about Sikh history. Sadly, though, she was too late to sit beside Khushwant himself in his Sujan Singh Park flat. He would surely have been a mine of information, not just about her mother’s life but even about the lost homestead in Sargodha. He may well have mentioned Punjabi Century by the author Prakash Tandon. Twenty years older than Dip, he too spent his youth in Sargodha, and his description of the town has been the best known in English literature.

Marina Wheeler. Photo: Chelin Miller

Sargodha was founded at the turn of the 20th century as headquarters of the Jhelum Canal Colony. Too often we forget that the canal colonies of Punjab were colossal enterprises of social and economic engineering. The vast tracts of agricultural land surrounding the administrative and market centre of Sargodha were, as in other colonies, divided geometrically into chaks farmed by settlers. The town too, bounded by a new railway line on one side, and a new canal on the other, was set out on a neat grid pattern. To the north of the railway station was the city and to the south was the large rectangle of the civil station. Here, besides the bungalows of officials, were also the residences of big zamindars. One of these residences was Dip’s lost homestead. Tandon remembered the city’s hygienic orderliness, impersonal but with wide streets full of air and light, moulding the population into the pattern the British settlement officers intended.

Also read: Interview: On Writing About Family, Partition and a Woman Who Rebuilt Her Life

Dip’s father, Papaji, fitted very well into this mould. A doctor dedicated to public service, in Sargodha he became a big landowner, a businessman and headed the well-run municipality. The British awarded him sanads for raising recruits for the Great War, attending to the sick during the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918 and the OBE for serving as a medic in the 1919 campaign in Afghanistan.

Dip remembers the homestead as little short of a palace, a huge courtyard house ribboned with external verandahs in the British style. Camels came laden with crops, orchards were heavy with fruit, gardens were scented with jasmine and, with her family’s emphasis on education, she  enjoyed the privilege of attending Sargodha’s girls’ school.

Dip’s school founded in 1904 by M. Hailey Esq. Photo: Special arrangement

The family had prestige and prosperity, and Marina follows it through changing times – the years of Unionist rule, the rise of nationalist politics and of the Muslim League, and ultimately of Partition, loss and rebuilding lives. Summarising a history so complex is a very tricky thing to do and this is where she faces her greatest challenges.

There are, for example, some strange omissions. She does not mention that in 1918 it was the troops returning from Europe – some of them perhaps the very ones her grandfather had recruited – who brought with them the deadly flu that he was given a sanad for treating. Dip, in Delhi after independence, tells Marina that she marched for Hindu-Muslim unity towards the end of Mahatma Gandhi’s final fast. But Marina does not mention that a prime purpose of this fast was to put an end the communal killings in Delhi. Instead she treats it merely as a fast to pressurise the government into releasing promised funds to Pakistan. This despite the fact that the Mahatma broke the fast not when funds were released, but when leaders from all parties and communities had committed themselves to peace.

Also read: When Artists Map Memories of Home and Exile

Marina takes responsibility for any historical errors in the text, but given the scale of her book, the people checking her manuscript have not been particularly thorough. There are simple matters of general knowledge which should have been corrected. The naval mutiny in 1946 was in the Royal Indian Navy, not the Royal Navy. Moharram is nothing to do with the Prophet’s son-in-law Ali, but the martyrdom of his grandson Husain. The shorthand characterisation of the Uprising of 1857 as a Hindu-Muslim conflict is totally misleading. Also bougainvilleas can be bushes or climbers, but not trees; shisham leaves are small and rounded, not long; white ants and not white beetles eat up our possessions; and jackals are not vegetarian and therefore do not feast on maize and sugarcane.

All such errors could easily have been avoided.

But, after marking them in the margins with exclamation marks, it’s impossible to stop reading this book. There is much of the larger happenings in India, and of modern India, that Marina recounts that do illuminate her mother and her family’s personal stories. Her style is lucid and engaging. Nowhere arrogant, she is inquiring and finds outstanding guides in her journey of discovery.

Dip and Charles celebrate their wedding, pictured with her siblings and their spouses – Anup and Jagtar, Amarjit and Bhagwant, Satwant and Priti. Photo: Special arrangement

Throughout, her mother’s courage, dignity and integrity shine forth. When her arranged marriage fails, she quietly walks out of her in-law’s house to start afresh. She lives independently, supporting herself, smoking and socialising with whom she pleases, and goes on to enjoy a second and very happy marriage while raising a family, furthering her education and working for causes she believed in. And yet she always considered herself twice displaced.

Marina does for her mother what she could never do herself. She returns to Pakistan – to Lahore, the capital of the short-lived Sikh kingdom of Ranjit Singh, and then to Sargodha to look for the lost homestead and for what really happened there in 1947. This search is the most demanding of all, as it seems at first as if what she is looking for has been erased from all record and human memory.

Thankfully she did not delay this project, as if she had, Dip would not have been there to help or listen to what she found. As it is, with this book Marina has not only successfully carved out another path in life, she has paid a moving tribute to her mother, and put forever on record the story of another remarkable Punjabi family – a story that will enrich all who read it.

Gillian Wright is a translator and writer based in New Delhi. 

Vikas Dubey’s Killing Reminds Punjab of 2,000+ ‘Disappearances’ During Insurgency

When rule of law is replaced by extrajudicial killings and fake encounters, it means democracy has been replaced by anarchy, say human rights lawyers.

Chandigarh: As the country debates the truth of the Uttar Pradesh police’s official narrative of gangster Vikas Dubey’s death – a car accident, an attempted escape and police firing in self-defence – which some feel is an example of a thriving culture of extrajudicial killings masquerading as encounters at the cost of rule of law, hundreds of families in Punjab have been living with the same ordeal for years.

Punjab shows how coercive methods, widely perceived as a necessary evil to end the insurgency that prevailed in the state between the 1980s and the mid-’90s, led to the forced disappearance and alleged killings of apparently thousands of people who no one knows for sure were actually guilty of any crime.

Even though the human loss of what had happened that time is irreparable and the affected families continue to suffer, there has still been no thorough probe into how many actually went missing during those turbulent days.

Whatever is available in the public domain is the result of either a Supreme Court-monitored probe by the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) in the 1990s which centred on Amritsar, or the claims of different NGOs, one of which recently filed a petition in the Punjab and Haryana high court seeking the appointment of a judicial commission to investigate extrajudicial killings all across Punjab.

‘Flagrant violations’ but only partial investigation

The Supreme Court (SC) first took notice of the disappearances in Punjab on November 15, 1995, in the wake of the abduction and murder of Amritsar-based human rights activist Jaswant Singh Khalra. Before his death that September, Khalra had charged the Punjab police with clandestinely cremating 2,097 dead bodies in Amritsar, Taran Taran and Majitha areas.

The SC directed the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) to inquire into Khalra’s abduction and the facts of Khalra’s claims of secret cremations by the police.

Subsequently, the CBI probe between 1995 and 1998 established several cases of extrajudicial killings and fake encounters. The agency filed charge sheets in 44 cases and also charged nine police personnel with Khalra’s abduction and murder. Six of these people were later given life sentences.

The trial is still pending in most of these cases due to legal loopholes. But a major drawback of the investigation at that time was that the CBI probe did not expand the investigation to other parts of Punjab, even though the apex court in its order on December 11, 1996, acknowledged the matter as a “flagrant violation of human rights on a mass scale”.

Also read: Book Review: Exploring Punjab’s Convoluted Past

Even the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), which was brought in by the SC to compensate the affected families in the cases where dead bodies were identified in the CBI probe, did not enlarge its proceedings to a pan-state level.

Several members of civil society asked the NHRC to invite applications from the legal heirs of disappeared cases all across the state. But in its order dated October 16, 1998, the commission held that the scope of its inquiry under the SC directions was limited to only those illegal killings that culminated in the cremation of 2,097 bodies in and around Amritsar that was the subject matter of the CBI inquiry.

On February 15, 2001, a plea was once again raised by the counsel of affected families for the NHRC to seek clarification from the SC about the scope of inquiry, but the commission did not consider it.

In its report to the SC, the CBI indicated that 585 dead bodies that had been secretly cremated were fully identified, 274 partly identified and 1,238 unidentified.

In its detailed November 11, 2004, order on this issue, the NHRC held that the human rights of 109 persons who were admittedly in the custody of the police immediately prior to their deaths stood invaded and infringed when they lost their lives while in the custody of the police, thereby rendering the state vicariously liable.

The order stated:

“There is a great responsibility on the part of the police and other authorities to take reasonable care so that citizens in their custody are safe and not deprived of their right to life. The state of Punjab is therefore accountable and vicariously responsible for the infringement of the infeasible right to life of those 109 deceased persons as it failed to safeguard their lives and persons against the risk of avoidable harm.”

The order ended with a quote from Mahatma Gandhi: “Peace will not come out of a clash of arms but out of justice lived and done.” But several questions still remained unanswered.

A still from Punjab Disappeared, a documentary on enforced disappearances in Punjab. Photo: punjabdisappeared.org

NGOs do the investigating

Ensaaf, a US-based non-profit organisation that has been working since 2004 on the issue of police impunity with a special focus on Punjab, has so far claimed on its website that Punjab had 5,302 cases of forced disappearances and extrajudicial killings.

The NGO’s co-founder, Sukhman Dhami, said that they compiled their information based on primary interviews with affected families, exposing the widespread and systematic extent of the abuses that took place at the cost of the victims’ right to life and right to a fair public trial.

“Our aim in compiling this information is so that these things are not repeated and the state fixes accountability on the perpetrators of the crime,” said Dhami. “The total absence of accountability for these atrocities has entrenched a culture of impunity and ‘encounter justice’ all across the country.”

Also read: ‘A Man Must Do What He Has To’

Meanwhile, Chandigarh-based NGO Punjab Documentation and Advocacy Project (PDAP) released a report in December 2017, claiming to have identified 8,257 persons who disappeared from 1980 to 1995 from all across the state and were also cremated as unidentified and unclaimed bodies.

PDAP’s convener, Satnam Singh Bains, told The Wire that their research is basically an extension of the initial exposé by human rights activist Jaswant Singh Khalra, covering alleged extrajudicial executions and illegal cremations beyond Amritsar, over 26 cities and tehsils of the state.

“We collected data from cremation grounds and municipal bodies where dead bodies were burnt as unclaimed and unidentified at that time by the police authorities. We also accessed around 1,200 FIRs of reported encounters out of which 274 FIRs matched exactly with the dates of illegal cremations obtained from cremation grounds,” he said.

Bains pointed out that most of the encounter FIRs tell a strikingly similar story in which police officers were left unscathed during the encounter, while the person in their custody invariably died in the firing.

“Most of those who went missing, we believe, fell prey to the vicious environment prevailing that time where police officers were being incentivised with easy promotions for killings,” said Bains. He added that even if many of them had links with insurgency, they deserved a fair trial under the constitutionally framed criminal justice system.

PIL seeking wider investigation pending in high court

Last November, the PDAP filed a public interest litigation (PIL) in the Punjab and Haryana high court, asking for an independent judicial commission under a retired Supreme Court or high court judge to investigate secret killings by the police in the entire state and even outside of it. The PIL also asked for compensation and rehabilitation for the families of the victims of secret killings. 

The petition placed its reliance on the Supreme Court’s 2017 intervention in the case of the extrajudicial killings and disappearance of 1,528 persons in insurgency-ridden Manipur over two decades, in which it directed the CBI to investigate the matter. It also referred to the SC’s legal proceedings in Jaswant Khalra’s case.

The high court is still exploring the grounds on which the SC ordered the Manipur probe and will next hear the matter in September. Meanwhile, the recent orders pronounced by trial courts in CBI-led investigations are eye-openers.

In its 2018 ruling on the 1992 disappearance case of 16-year-old Harjit Singh from Amritsar district’s village Sultanwind, a special CBI court in Mohali held that the sole purpose of his abduction was to eliminate him.

Also read: Justice Deepak Gupta: Brazen Flouting of Law in Vikas Dubey Encounter Doesn’t Portend Well for India

The court awarded life sentences to two retired sub-inspectors (SI), Narinder Singh Malhi and Gian Singh. It said that all the directions of the Supreme Court were disobeyed before the police arrested the deceased and no explanation of any kind was given even later by the accused as to where Harjit Singh was and what happened to him after his abduction.

“The said child has not seen the light of the day after his abduction. Thereafter what happened to him is not known. Whether he is dead or alive is a mystery his parents try to solve every day. In these circumstances, it is not a fit case where leniency can be shown to the accused,” read the court order.

Another CBI court order in 2018 exposed the 1992 fake encounter of 15-year-old Harpal Singh of village Palla in Amritsar. The FIR registered by Amritsar’s Beas police station on September 18, 1992, claimed that Harpal had been killed in a gun battle after he escaped police custody.

A still from Punjab Disappeared, a documentary on enforced disappearances in Punjab. Photo: punjabdisappeared.org

The CBI court, while awarding life imprisonment to Raghbir Singh, the then station house officer (SHO) of Beas police station, and Dara Singh, a then sub-inspector, held that the police party’s claim to have fired 217 bullets during the encounter was fabricated as the empty cartridges had not been recovered or seized during the encounter.

The order said it was strange that the boy’s body was cremated as unclaimed when his identity was well established by the police and there was no record to show that his family members had refused to accept his body. Also, none of the bullets alleged to have been fired by the deceased is stated to have hit any of the police members or their vehicles, although it was claimed in a police report that the firing was started by the deceased.

“From the given facts, it is clearly proved that the encounter in which the deceased is stated to have been killed is not genuine. The accused tried to prove that the deceased was a terrorist but nothing has been produced to show that he was involved in any criminal activities,” the order stated.

The court observed that it might have believed the police version had the police shown that even a single bullet had hit any of the police vehicles or police officials. It added that the police version might also have been believed if the empty cartridges had been recovered. “In absence of it, it can’t be held by stretch of any imagination that the deceased was killed in encounter by the police,” the court order said.

Also read: ‘Punjab Disappeared’ Recounts Mass Atrocities and the Struggle for Justice

Another CBI court order in 2019 awarded life sentences to a retired DSP, Harjinder Pal Singh, the then SHO of Ropar (Sadar), in the fake encounter of two men, Kuldeep Singh and Gurmail Singh.

An FIR registered on February 1, 1993, stated that the accused policeman was taking Kuldeep and Gurmail to recover arms when they were ambushed by unidentified persons near Bhadal village in Ropar. The policeman claimed then that in the crossfire between the police and the attackers, both Kuldeep and Gumail were killed. The police even cremated them, declaring their bodies unidentified.

The court ruled that the action of the accused policeman cast serious doubt about his version. Had the encounter happened as alleged, the accused policeman would have certainly taken into possession the empty cartridges of bullets fired by the police party.

The court also held that dead bodies were not handed over to family members, but cremated as unidentified though the police had identified them. The post mortem report had mentioned the names of the deceased. Similarly, the FIR also had their names and addresses.

“It is duly proved that both the deceased were in custody of SI Harjinder Pal Singh. The story put forth by him is false and thus it is held that the deceased were tortured and killed by him. Therefore he committed the offence under section 302 and 218 IPC,” stated the order

Former DGP booked in 1991 disappearance case

On May 6, in the middle of the nationwide lockdown, the Punjab police booked Sumedh Singh Saini who had served as a director general of police between 2012 and 2015 in the 29-year-old case of the disappearance of a Chandigarh youth, a son of a then serving IAS officer.

The FIR against Saini was filed in Mohali by Palwinder Singh Multani, regarding the alleged abduction and disappearance of his brother, Balwant Singh Multani, in December 1991.

Saini was charged in multiple crimes including kidnapping or abducting in order to murder; wrongful confinement; and voluntarily causing hurt to extort confession. He initially got out on anticipatory bail on May 9, but when his case was transferred to another court this month, his bail was cancelled on July 10.

Saini’s counsel told the media that he was being targeted for his anti-corruption drive when he was the head of the state’s Vigilance Bureau. Meanwhile, the police’s next course of action is awaited.

The case against Saini may prompt people to think that justice is finally catching up with big shots who may have been involved in dubious activities. But senior journalist Jagtar Singh does not believe this. He said the root cause of the entire problem is that the state never acknowledged constitutional wrongdoings during the insurgency. Quite a few police officers were allowed to confront militancy with whatever means they could possibly use in return for immunity and promotions, he added.

Also read: The Lawlessness of Encounter Killings

In a 2013 report, Christof Heyns, a member of the UN Human Rights Committee that recorded the situation in Punjab, said officers involved in human rights violations were promoted rather than held accountable.

He also said that delays in judicial proceedings constituted one of India’s most serious challenges and has clear implications for accountability.

Jagtar said that the investigation against Saini may reach a logical conclusion, but he is concerned about the pace of the legal proceedings. In such cases, he said, proceedings often move at a snail’s pace.

For instance, he added, in the 1990s when the SC acknowledged human rights violations in Punjab, people began to hope for the best. But things did not move forward as expected. “Although there are families who are still fighting the system, many have compromised with the situation whether under police threat or because of the indifferent attitude of the system,” said Jagtar Singh.

The fight is not over for people like Dalbir Kaur from Gurdaspur district. Dalbir lost her husband Sukhpal Singh in a 1994 police encounter, in which Inspector General of Police Paramraj Singh Umranangal, who was recently suspended in another case, is alleged to have been involved.

The case of Sukhpal Singh’s disappearance was registered in 2016, after Dalbir pleaded before the Punjab and Haryana high court in 2013 that the police team stage-managed an encounter with her husband to show that the dreaded terrorist Gurman Singh Bandala had been killed.

The high court appointed a special investigating team (SIT) led by DGP (Punjab State Power Corporation Ltd) Sidharth Chattopadhyaya, who filed an affidavit in the high court this March, stating that Bandala is alive and had been arrested in 1998 in some other case.

The SIT stated that it appeared that Bandala’s fake encounter registered in Ropar district and Sukhpal Singh’s disappearance from Gurdaspur are intricately linked, although the investigation is not over as yet.

Pardeep Virk, counsel for Dalbir Kaur, said she has been fighting a lone battle ever since her husband died. No effort was made by the state to identify who was the person killed if it was not Bandala. The SIT’s latest finding has given Dalbir new hope for justice.

Why it is important to uphold the rule of law

Punjab saw large scale human rights violations during the insurgency, but it is still widely believed that the state’s actions, whether wrong or right, restored normalcy to the region, making it a good thing overall.

Elsewhere in India, we have seen people cheering for police action, such as when the four accused in the infamous Hyderabad rape case last year were killed in a police encounter. The same people are now cheering the elimination of gangster Vikas Dubey.

Human rights lawyer Navkiran Singh told The Wire that the reason behind such thinking is the country’s tardy judicial system. It takes an average of 8 to 10 years, maybe even more, to get a case decided at a trial court.

“One must ask who is responsible for it,” said Navkiran Singh. “It is the government. It doesn’t appoint enough judges. It doesn’t ensure an effective witness protection programme. It creates monsters and then kills them for public sympathy.”

Despite the limitations of the system, the rule of law must be upheld at any cost, because if a country is not governed under the rule of law, there will be anarchy, added Navkiran. A person could be killed on the street if she is even suspected of committing a crime. No rule of law signifies an immature democracy.

If fake encounters and extrajudicial killings are to be stopped, said Navkiran, first of all, people should stop rejoicing in such killings. He argued that extrajudicial killings tend to happen when the government wants to distract people from the root causes of crime; when the state itself is in the dock.

Also read: Why Revenge Killings and Instant Justice Should Never Be the Answers We Want

According to advocate Arjun Sheoran, a counsel in several human rights cases in Punjab, the people who control the system are the ones who have created problems in the police, judicial and investigation departments. He added that the whole ecosystem of Bollywood masala movies, for instance, makes people believe that extrajudicial killings are fine.

Change will only come to the Punjab police when the Prakash Singh Committee report on police reforms is implemented, said Sheoran. “When we reform the police, we must ensure an adequate number of policemen and then separate departments for investigation,” he said.

The number of judges must also be increased, so that the judicial system works effectively and there must be proper compliance with the Supreme Court guidelines on encounter killings, he added. “Only the courts can declare an accused guilty or innocent,” said Sheoran. “This is the fundamental principle of our criminal justice system.”

Vivek Gupta is a Chandigarh-based reporter who has worked for several news outlets including The Hindustan TimesThe Indian Express and The Tribune.

Book Review: ‘Phulkari From Punjab’ Traces Every Thread of Punjab’s Embroidery

Sometimes repetitive, occasionally slipping into cliche, Anu Gupta and Shalina Mehta’s book is nevertheless an important addition to the documentation of Indian embroidery.

The sizzling, vibrant orange, ochre and pink satin-floss geometrics of Punjabi phulkari, once seen can never be forgotten.

That redoubtable 18th century Indian Memsaab, Flora Anne Steele, talking about the Phulkari embroidery of Punjab, called it “A work of faith, savouring somewhat of sowing in the red-brown soil.”

There can never be enough books on Indian Embroidery! No country has as many traditions and techniques, varying from region to region, community to community, as India, each uniquely itself but also unmistakably part of the Indian aesthetic. Phulkari too, its origins in Central Asia, was transformed by the culture and rustic dynamism of the women of Punjab into something distinctively Punjabi.

Anu Gupta and Shalina Mehta, the authors of Phulkari from PunjabEmbroidery in Transition, are both from the Department of Anthropology at Punjab University, Chandigarh. One did her PhD there and the other was a faculty member of 40 years standing. Anu Gupta is currently an assistant professor at the University’s Institute of Fashion Technology and Vocational Development.

Embroidery is a form of ornamentation and also earning for many communities; but equally importantly a needle and thread tells stories – of the flora and fauna, seasons and lifestyles that are the backdrop to the battles and dynasties listed in our history books. The appearance in a kantha or phulkari of a train, motorcar, or airplane illustrates the transition of transport from bullock carts and horseback to aviation more vividly than countless pages of prose.

Also read: The Threads of India’s Handloom Industry Are Being Gnawed Away at By GST

Anu H. Gupta and Shalina Mehta
Phulkari From Punjab: Embroidery in Transition
Niyogi Books, 2019

Over the decades the phulkari was both an art form and a powerful means of self-expression for otherwise non-literate Punjabi women. Guru Nanak in his scriptures stereotyped the notion of embroidery as a woman’s duty to establish her feminine worth (“Kadh kasida pahreh choli tan tu jane nari,”) but phulkari was much more than proving ones skills with a needle. As the authors say, embroidery could be subversive too, “translating unsaid emotions on fabric”. A phulkari ordhani was a heavy, all-concealing way of shrouding a woman’s shape and identity but the story its motifs and design told was all her own.

As Jasleen Dhamija wrote in her beautiful autobiographical essay in my book Threads and Voices, the traditional Baghs and Phulkaris were all about women. Not only did they spin the cotton and often dye the cloth on which it was embroidered, but they were the ones who designed and wore it.

They may never have travelled or seen the flowering gardens they depicted, but they created “their dream garden, their dream flowers” and “associated them with the ceremonies of rites of passage.” – marriage, childbirth, celebration… Even the embroidered phulkari of their shroud, dipped in the purifying waters of the Ganga, fulfilled “their desire  to be wrapped in their dream garden of flowers for their final journey”.

The story behind the stitches of Indian embroidery is both a parable and a paradox: craft traditions are a unique mechanism for rural men and women entering the urban economic mainstream for the first time, but they also carry the stigma of inferiority and backwardness as India enters a period of hi-tech industrialisation and urbanisation.

Phulkari is a classic example. Once an essential part of every Punjabi bride’s trousseau, a sign of her skills and upbringing, embroidery became a stigma that educated, wealthy girls should eschew.

As a result, authentic phulkari odhanis are seldom seen today. Most so-called phulkari (often from Haryana or Rajasthan) is a travesty – crude satin-stitch, the embroidery done from the front with the motifs block printed on georgette or voile, rather than with counted thread darning stitch done on the reverse of madder-dyed khadi, its threads hand-woven especially to facilitate the counted stitches. Each piece was a unique creation, with its own layouts and motifs, inspired by the dreams as well as the life of the maker.

Also read: My Mother’s Trauma of Partition Shaped How I View Pakistan

Eight-pointed lotuses and marigold flowers mixed with cotton bolls, cauliflowers and chillies, fields of wheat, goats and cows, and even jewellery and coins. Women churning butter, peacocks dancing, a scorpion or snake to avert the evil eye, a wedding party riding in a train, children flying kites…. Abstract geometrics combined with aspirational illustrations, each with its own song, women singing and stitching together. Charmingly if a visitor joined the group, she would add a motif or a few stitches, but in a different colour or idiom.

Photo: Author provided

The best thing about Gupta and Mehta’s slim volume are the women who emerge from its pages. And the rituals the phulkaris were made for. Many books on craft describe the tradition, the techniques, the ornamentation, the objects themselves –  but forget about the makers. Without the who and why and when, the before and after, the story of craft remains lifeless. As is the case with phulkari itself. Now that the women themselves are no longer the creators, the embroidery has lost its joyous vitality and become mechanical.

Sometimes repetitive, occasionally slipping into cliche, Phulkari from PunjabEmbroidery in Transition is nevertheless an important addition to the documentation of Indian embroidery. Each thread is traced, from its origin to its final usage. The illustrations too, honestly portray the story of phulkari – both the glory of its heydey to its present decline.

Laila Tyabji is the founder member and chairperson of Dastkar, an NGO working for the revival of traditional crafts in India.

Book Review: Exploring Punjab’s Convoluted Past

Amandeep Sandhu weaves together data, personal history and narratives to recount Punjab’s turbulent history of militancy, economic growth, drug addiction and farmer suicides.

In Panjab: Journeys Through Fault Lines, Amandeep Sandhu provides us with a panoramic view of Punjab, taking us along in his journey of piecing together the land Ibn Battuta had named ‘Panj Ab’ – the land of five waters.

The author begins this non-fiction verse with a Punjabi couplet, ‘Je ho ji tu samjhe mahiya, oho ji main hain nahin (What you know of me, my dear, I am not that)’ by Aman Rozi. The couplet lays bare the idea that unravelling the geographical, political, economic and other facets of a place can always be an enigmatic experience.

The land in question has been fought over, won, ruled and divided many times and to understand it, one cannot only talk about the Indian side of Punjab that exists today but view it as a fragment of the huge land that existed decades ago.

Each facet of Punjab’s reality has been picked by the author and detailed in the sixteen chapters. The narrative flows from historical facts to the author’s personal history and merges with the reality experienced by him during his travels. The kind of data that has been collated and segregated by Sandhu into various chapters is staggering. We can read each chapter individually, but reality overlaps and similar issues fluidly emerge in other chapters also.

Watch | Punjab Has Always Said No to Hindutva Politics: Amandeep Sandhu

The thought of Punjab is evocative of yellow mustard fields and the Green Revolution that was a boon for many in its initial years. However, soon the greenery faded and the income from farming decreased. Sandhu compares his mother’s illness with Punjab and talks about the two ‘mis-revolutions’ that the state faced – Green Revolution and Khalistan. Green Revolution was promoted with new researches being practically implemented on the farms, but many failed.

The Indian government also tried to solve the issue of militancy and the demand for a separate land, Khalistan, in myriad ways. Instead of offering any solace, all the attempts made the wounds much more deep-seated.

These small ‘band-aid fixes’ that the government was providing for both these problems were not permanent solutions. Punjab was more than just its fields and the guns picked up by some but nobody saw the entire picture.

Amandeep Sandhu
Panjab: Journeys Through Fault Lines
Westland, 2019

The political scenario of the state is discussed after every few pages because no history is complete without mention of those who have been in power. Each of the parties that have aspired for power or have been in power has been talked about. Apart from the Akalis, Congress and BJP, Sandhu also looks at developments surrounding the Aam Aadmi Party.

He also touches upon the various gurus and deras that exist in Punjab who also regulate the vote bank. People blindly follow these cults and when urged to vote for a certain party, they do as asked. There have been moments in the book when one is terrified by how callous politicians have been and how they have trampled the truth and built their empires on the corpses of the farmers, the unemployed youth and the Dalits.

No book about Punjab is complete without talking about Operation Blue Star. The attack on the Darbar Sahib in 1984 shook the Sikhs around the world and remembering it brings back painful memories of the time when the state thought it was acceptable to attack a place of worship.

The attack, as has been mentioned in the book, was planned months in advance with a model of the Darbar Sahib prepared for the army to practice in. The narrative portrays the atrocities by the state and also gives an account of how Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale rose to prominence along with Harcharan Singh Longowal.

A recurring problem that has time and again risen and played with during election campaigns and in politicians’ rhetoric is Punjab’s drug addiction. The book details the history of how the problem took root and has now spread to all parts of the state engulfing its youth in a never-ending cycle of drug addiction.

The medical facilities available in the state are not sufficient. Apart from drugs, the lack of resources and a reliable state support system for the farmers has instigated farmer suicides for the past few decades. Punjab is no longer the land where five rivers flow intensely. The rivers are now home to sand mining activities, industrial waste and bodies of people who have died by suicide.

The chapter on Dalits is significant as it brings to the fore the irony of the word ‘Dalit’ in Sikhism. Around 55–60% of the state’s population comprises of Sikhs. Sikhism was initiated by Guru Nanak Dev with the spirit that no caste system would be prevalent in the religion like it had plagued Hinduism. It was supposed to be a humanitarian religion where anyone who embraced it would be considered equal.

Also read: Punjab’s History Explains its Support for the Rights of Kashmiris Today

However, the reality was considerably different from that. There are separate gurudwaras for the Dalits. The Jutts in Punjab have devised ways to subjugate them and would go to any extent to use them and the reservation the Dalits get for their own means. This has been substantiated in the book with reference to various instances that have taken place in the past and unearthed through the interviews taken by the author during his journey through the fault lines.

The book touches upon the disappearances, incidents of sacrilege that brought the state to a boil, the various farmer protests such as the ‘rail roko’ protest, the stories from various villages about the past and the present. Sandhu’s travel brings to life the various issues that political parties keep trying to bury from time and again.

The book offers both a historical and a contemporary perspective of Punjab tracing the journey of the state from centuries ago. In the epilogue, Sandhu mentions how the people of Punjab who have seen ‘one generation lost to militancy, the next to drugs, and the present to exodus—are looking for new directions, new voices and new leadership’.

Guneet Kaur Gulati is an editor at a publication house and is interested in literature and the South-Asian socio-political discourse.

The Forgotten History of Hussaini Brahmins and Muharram in Amritsar

A community historically considered to be “half Hindu” and “half Muslim” has lost its vibrant tradition in the city of Amritsar.

Amritsar: As battle lines are being redrawn and strengthened over borders, many shared and eclectic cultural practices and spaces in the subcontinent are forgotten. Certain stories are being gradually erased from the shards of memory and history.

In the month of Muharram this year, on the day of Ashura, I decided to recover the lost narrative of Hussaini Brahmins – also known as Dutt/Datt/Datta Brahmins – and their intimate connection with the taziya procession in the city of Amritsar. In the pre-Partition days here, the taziya juloos, a grand public commemoration, would not start without the presence and participation of Hussaini Brahmins.

Before 1947, my grandfather, Padma Shri Brahm Nath Datta ‘Qasir’, a Hussaini Brahmin and a well-known Urdu-Persian poet, would initiate the taziya procession in Farid Chowk, in Katra Sher Singh, in his beloved city of Amritsar. There was a prominent Shia mosque in the area from where the taziyas were commenced and brought to the historic Farid Chowk.

The grand procession would then move towards the Imambara and Karbala maidan, near the Kutchery, which was a meeting point for all the processions coming from several imambaras. The final convergence of the taziyas was momentous. It is believed that this was close to the pivotal site, known as Ghoda pir, where the legendary steed, Zuljanah, of Imam Husain was said to have been buried.

Hussaini Brahmins: bringing two cultures together

In pre-Partition Amritsar, the taziya procession would start only after the Hussaini Dutt Brahmins lent their shoulder to carry the taziyas forward through the city. In 1942, Dr Ghulam Nabi, a prominent dentist of the city who had a clinic in Hall Bazar, rushed to the first floor of my grandfather’s house in Katra Sher Singh at Farid Chowk. He was from the Shia community and a close friend of my grandfather. He said with urgency, “Dutt Sahib, we are all waiting. Aap kandha doge tab taziya uthengee.”

A community which was historically considered to be “half Hindu” and “half Muslim”, the Hussaini Brahmins traditionally brought two cultures together. Often referred to as either Shia Brahmins or Hussaini Brahmins, phrases such as “Wah Dutt Sultan, Hindu ka dharm, Mussalman ka iman’; and ‘Dutt Sultan na Hindu na Mussalman” became a part of folklore.

Mohammad Mujeeb, the distinguished historian writes, “they [Hussaini Brahmins] were not really converts to Islam, but had adopted such Islamic beliefs and practices as were not deemed contrary to the Hindu faith.” Family narratives reveal that the name of Imam Husain was recited during mundans of young Dutt Brahmin boys, and halwa was cooked in the name of bade (Imam Husain) at weddings. Until the Partition in 1947, the Dutts were commonly called Sultans in different parts of the subcontinent.

Ashura in Amritsar on September 10, 2019. Photo: Nonica Datta

Also read: On Ashura, Two Impassioned Poetic Tributes to Hazrat Zainab, the Heroine of Karbala

The genealogical map of Hussaini Brahmins covers their settlements in Kufa in Iraq around the time of the historic Battle of Karbala (680 A.D.), and later in Balakh, Bokhara, Sindh, Kandahar, Kabul and Punjab. Their scribal and military traditions and commercial and marriage networks attached them to regional courts during the 17th and 18th centuries and they were mostly found in Gujarat, Sindh, Punjab and Northwest Frontier.

It was in this context that many Hussaini Dutt Brahmins expanded their influence into the city of Amritsar. For instance, historical evidence testifies that before the accession of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, Mai Karmon Dattani, the wife of a leading Dutt, was appointed the ruler of Katra Ghanaiyan in Amritsar. She was reputed to have presided over her court, dispensing even-handed justice at a public place which has been immortalised by her name, and is known as Mai Karmun ki Deohri, later a prominent bazar (known as Karmon Deori) in the city. She is remembered as the “Joan of Arc” of Amritsar.

However, what is most remembered in history is the historic link of the Hussaini Brahmins with Karbala in Iraq, as underscored by British ethnologist Denzil Ibbetson. T. P. Russell Stracey in 1911 provides a fascinating account:

“From the Kavits of the clan, it is evident that the ancestors of the Datts were once in Arabia. They participated in the Karbala War between the descendants and followers of Hazrat Ali and Yazid Sultan, the son of Amir Muaviya. They were friends of Hasan and Hussain, the martyred grandsons of the Prophet, the incidents connected with which furnish the material for the passion play of the Shias at every Muharrum.

When these princes fell, a brave warrior of the Datts named Rahib, resolutely but unsuccessfully defended the survivors. The slaughter of his band, however, compelled him and the small remnant to retire to India through Persia and Kandahar.”

Legend has it that on his return from Arabia, Rahib Dutt brought with him the Prophet’s hair, which is kept in the Hazratbal shrine in Kashmir. Nohas and Kavits, recorded in local vernacular histories, oral narratives and British ethnographic literature, endorse the glorious appeal of Karbala and Muharram among Hussaini Brahmins:

Laryo Datt [Dutt] dal khet ji tin lok shaka parhyo
Charhyo Datt dal gah ji Garh Kufa ja luttyo.”

(The Datt warrior alone fought bravely in the field,
and plundered the fort of Kufa.)

Baje bhir ko chot fateh maidan jo pai
Badla liya Husain, dhan dhan kare lukai.”

(When they won the field, the drum was beaten;
Husain was avenged and the people shouted “bravo”, “bravo”.)

Rahib ki jo jadd nasal Husain jo ai
Diye sat farzand bhai qabul kamai.”

(The seven sons of Rahib (Datt) throwing in their lot
With the faithful few on hapless Husain’s side,
Died as Datts fighting, deeming their death
But friendship’s welcome sacrifice.)

Finally:

Jo Husain ki jadd hai Datt nam sab dhiyayo,
Arab shahr ke bich men Rahib takht bathayo.”

(Off-spring of Husain! forget not thy father’s friend
Rahib, once enthroned in Arabia’s city ere thy father’s end.
Wherefore the name of Datt recite
In thy prayers to Allah, at morn and night.)

Muharram as late as the 1940s was a moment to commemorate the sacrifice of the sons of Rahib Dutt for Imam Husain. The Hussaini Brahmin was an indispensable presence on such a sombre occasion of collective and shared mourning. Partition sealed the fate of this community, as they were left abandoned on both sides of Punjab.

Also read: Discovering Jashn-e-Chiraghan, the Mughal Festival of Lights

In Pakistan Punjab, they were seen as non-Muslims, in Indian Punjab they were perceived as being closer to Muslims. The horrific politics of the border entered the portals of my ancestral home, too. Brahm Nath Datta Qasir’s house at Katra Sher Singh in Farid Chowk, Amritsar, was set on fire by Hindu fanatic groups in 1947.

It seems there was no Muharram procession in Amritsar in 1947. At least, it didn’t happen in Farid Chowk. In the tragic transformation of Amritsar as a border city, Hussaini Dutt Brahmins were amongst its worst victims. Their fluid identity came under siege as the politics of aggressive religious identities shattered their porous cultural world.

The Dutts’ enduring link with Imam Husain, Karbala and Muharram came under threat. But all was not lost. Some of them did openly identify with their Hussaini Brahmin heritage.

Not very long ago, Indian actor Sunil Dutt, while making a donation in the Shaukat Khanum Hospital in Lahore, recorded his commitment to Karbala and said:

“For Lahore, like my elders, I will shed every drop of blood and give any donation asked for, just as my ancestors did when they laid down their lives at Karbala for Hazrat Imam Husain.”

Needless to say that Sunil Dutt was intimately connected with the cultural landscape of Amritsar too.

Ashura in Amritsar

I reached Amritsar early on the morning of Ashura, on September 10. My first instinct was to visit the Imambara at Farid Chowk in Katra Sher Singh and to trace some crucial sites connecting the gaps between Hussaini Brahmins and Amritsar. This was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

However, I was lucky to find locals who knew about the city’s pluralistic culture and gladly directed me to a lone surviving Imambara, Anjuman-e-Yadgaar Husain, in Lohgarh, just about five minutes away from Farid Chowk. Currently known as the Kashmiri Imambara, it stands on Gali Zainab (named after Imam Husain’s sister), and now renamed as Gali Badran.

As I walked into this self-enclosed, small inconspicuous structure, which houses the Raza Mosque inside its precincts, I saw a large number of policemen and the Rapid Reaction Force.

I was warmly welcomed by the caretaker of the Imambara, Syed Abdullah Rizvi, popularly called Abbuji. He told me that the structure is nearly 110 years old, and was built by Syed Nathu Shah and was regularly maintained by local Shia and Hussaini Brahmin families of Amritsar before 1947.

Also read: Malerkotla, Where Tolerance is a Way of Life

Abbuji was touched to meet me as a Hussaini Brahmin in the majlis. He enquired whether I had a mark of a cut on my throat (in folklore, the Hussaini Brahmins are known to have a faint line across their throats as a symbol of having sacrificed their lives for Imam Husain). The story of Dutt Brahmins was shared in the assembly (majlis):

“It was Rahib’s mother, who instructed him to sacrifice his seven sons for Imam Husain. Rahib’s mother had been blessed with seven boys by Imam Husain. As a token of her gratitude to Maula Husain, she implored Rahib to sacrifice his own sons. So he did.”

A mourner, Amit Malang, told me, “Unfortunately, Hussaini Brahmins left for Delhi and Bombay. What did they do for Amritsar?” He said sarcastically, “Aj kisi Hussaini Brahmin ki himmat hai ki voh haath kharha kare (Can any Hussaini Brahmin dare to raise his hand today?).”

His angst was shared by many who felt that the community which could have probably preserved the vibrant tradition of the city had abandoned them. Abbuji, a cementing force, a favourite amongst Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs in the congregation, said, “Imam Husain means haq (rights) and aman (peace). We want to convey this message to Amritsar.”

I then awaited the taziya procession.

Muharram within the four walls at Imambara Amritsar on September 10, 2019. Photo: Nonica Datta

A lost narrative of Juloos-e-Ashura

Ab koi juloos nahi nikalta. Juloos-e-Ashura Imambare ke andar hi hota hai. Muharram yahin Imambara ki chardiwari mein hota hai (Now there is no procession. Muharram is confined to the four walls of the Imambara),” Abbuji said. Zaheer Abbas, a Shia from Lucknow who has been living in Amritsar since 1980, added: “The grand shared tradition of Muharram in Amritsar was destroyed by successive wars: 1947, 1965, 1971. Partition didn’t end in 1947.”

Abbas said that the Shia mosque in Farid Chowk had been razed to the ground in 1948-49. Almost all the imambaras, over a hundred in number, were taken over (kabza) or dismantled. Abbuji added:

“Although the government took over the Karbala maidan, until recently the most prominent route for the Muharram procession was via the famous Sikri Banda Bazar to the present Imambara; taziya and alam would be brought there with much passion.  But Bajrang Dal stopped it. Sunnis also didn’t support us. Now there is no procession: Ab ham darwaze diware band karke matam karte hain (Now we perform the mourning ceremony by shutting the doors and walls).”

Farhat, a sole Punjabi Muslim mourner, said that with the exodus of Hussaini Brahmins and Shias, the matam had lost its Punjabi flavour.

Abbuji asked me to write about the lost narrative of Hussaini Brahmins in Amritsar.

The openly public commemoration of Muharram in Delhi, Lucknow, Saharanpur, and even in nearby Malerkotla, Patiala, Jullundur and Jammu contrasts sharply with the slow erasure of this inclusive tradition in Amritsar. A city where Muharram was associated with the sacred geography of Imam Husain and Shia beliefs, such as Ghoda pir, Hussainpura, Gali Zainab and Yadgaar-e-Husain Imambara, the marginalisation of this vibrant cultural practice is heartbreaking.

Also read: The Tazia Makers of Lucknow

I was shocked to see that the performance of Muharram and carrying of taziyas was confined to the four walls of a tiny Imambara under the watchful eye of the police. Perhaps, if the Hussaini Brahmins had stayed on, this would not have happened!

Around 5 pm, after “Alvida Ya Husain”, and a solemn meal of masar dal and rice – no meat is served on the day of martyrdom– I left the Imambara, lost in thoughts. I wanted to revisit Farid Chowk in remembrance of my grandfather and the eclectic community forged via the taziya procession that has now disappeared from the open spaces of the city.

I stood on the edge of Farid Chowk in Katra Sher Singh. Karmon Deori was close by; a street named after the famed warrior woman, from the Hussaini Dutt Brahmin clan, in 18th-century Amritsar, and a significant route for the pre-Partition Muharram juloos. There was no sign of any commemoration whatsoever.

As I returned to Delhi, leaving behind the taziyas and alam in the Yadgaar-e-Husain Imambara, the lament of the community of mourners almost crying for the shoulder of the Hussaini Brahmins continues to haunt me.

The reality is that the community, whose ancestors are believed to have sacrificed their seven sons for Imam Husain, has migrated to different parts of the world as global citizens. Many have simply discarded their Hussaini Brahmin identity and started to represent themselves as “Brahmins” – a construct that is miles away from what the community originally represented.

Nonica Datta teaches history at Jawaharlal Nehru University.

Punjab’s History Explains its Support for the Rights of Kashmiris Today

From scholars to farmers’ organisations, a number of groups have expressed solidarity after Jammu and Kashmir’s special status was revoked.

New Delhi: The Left and Sikh organisations in Punjab spent three decades at odds with each other over militancy in the state but agree today on one cause: their condemnation of the Centre’s decision to revoke Jammu and Kashmir’s special status and divide the state into two Union territories.

Though they have not formally come together for any joint programmes, each has been quite vocal in condemning the Modi government’s moves on J&K.

“Various democratic organisations of Punjab decide to stand in solidarity with the people’s movement of Kashmiris,” stated a joint press statement of 15-odd organisations ahead of a protest march scheduled for September 15 in Chandigarh.

“We will stand tooth and nail against any move of the Modi regime’s agenda of Hindutva that it is spreading in the name of ultra-nationalism, putting the lives of Kashmiris at stake now,” Lachhman Singh Sewala, general secretary of the Punjab Khet Mazdoor Union, an offshoot of CPI (ML) (Liberation), said.

“The vested forces earlier tried to divide the people of Punjab on communal lines during the days of militancy, when the men from the security forces as well as from amongst the boys spearheading the movement had died in thousands,” he added.

A protest in south Punjab. Photo: Special arrangement

Eleven Left organisations from Punjab, under the banner of ‘Solidarity Committee for Kashmiri National Struggle’, have even come out in favour of the “right to self-determination of the Kashmiris”.

“Reach Chandigarh on September 15,” read posters carrying pictures of pellet-ridden and bandaged Kashmiri children. “Come out and dare to support the Kashmiri national struggle for the right to self-determination and against the occupation and repression of Indian rulers,” read another.

The committee’s 11 constituents include the Punjab Students’ Union, Naujawan Bharat Sabha, Kisan Sangharsh Committee, Pendu Mazdoor Union (Mashal) and different Left-leaning industrial workers’ bodies.

Also read: Federalism is at the Heart of DMK’s Tryst With Jammu and Kashmir

Judiciary and UT administration worried

On Thursday, the Punjab and Haryana high court, in response to a public interest litigation on the issue, said:

“We direct the director general of police, Punjab, as also the senior superintendent of police, Mohali, Punjab to extend all possible help in consultation with the director general of police, Chandigarh in taking appropriate steps so that no law and order situation is created.”

The interim order of the court’s division bench headed by Chief Justice Krishna Murari further sought an assurance from the state police and UT police for “adequate steps to ensure that no damage is caused to any public property nor the life and liberty of any of the citizens is put in a jeopardy”.

A protest in south Punjab. Photo: Special arrangement

Starting from September 3, various organisations, mainly farmers’ groups, had organised a week-long protest march across the state in solidarity with the Kashmiri people.

In Bathinda on September 10, around 1,500 protesters came together under the banner of the Bharatiya Kisan Union Ekta Ugrahan. They raised slogans like ‘Kashmir Kashmiri lokka da, nahi Hind-Pak dia yokka da (Kashmir is of the Kashmiris, not of the Indian or Pakistani agencies)’, ‘Kashmiri lokka nu swayam-nirnay da haq deo (Give the people of Kashmir the right to self-determination)’.

‘Because the Sikhs saw it all…’

The sharp reaction to the reading down of Article 370 first came the very day after it happened, from three independent Sikh scholars. Gurtej Singh, Gurdarshan Singh Dhillon and Jaspal Singh Sidhu held a joint press conference in Chandigarh.

“The ruling elite of the Indian state is only concerned about the land of Kashmir and not its Kashmiri people,” Dhillon, a scholar of Sikh history, said at the press conference. “The maximum violation of human rights is taking place in Kashmir now, where pregnant women do not have access to doctors and children are deprived of milk.”

He then even compared the clampdown in Kashmir to the Army’s “Operation Woodrose” in Punjab in 1984, during which he said about 30 young children were non-judicially arrested and kept in a Ludhiana jail.

“I remember one Mrs Chattopadhyay, a human rights activist, who moved the Supreme Court and led to the children being released,” he told The Wire.

Also read: Why BJP Did Not Trifurcate Jammu and Kashmir

On August 12, a week after the J&K clampdown began, Punjab chief minister Captain Amarinder Singh made headlines for hosting a lunch for Kashmiri students on Eid-ul-Zuha.

Singh told the students, “We cannot replace your families but I hope you consider us as your family too. I assure you of your safety and security in Punjab.”

“You may write whatever, but I say the Sikh psyche always reacts to exploitation of a particular community, anywhere in the world,” said a senior journalist who works with an English newspaper, asking not to be named.

He backed his argument by citing events that took place after the Pulwama attack. Hundreds of Kashmiri students from Uttarakhand and Ambala in Haryana were rescued from mobs by members of a Sikh voluntary group, Khalsa Aid Foundation, and brought to a gurudwara in Mohali before they were sent back to their families in Kashmir.

A protest in south Punjab. Photo: Special arrangement

On August 12, Akal Takht jathedar Giani Harpreet Singh was quoted as saying, “It is the religious duty of Sikhs to protect Kashmiri girls.” The was a reaction to statements from an Uttar Pradesh Bharatiya Janata Party MLA and Haryana chief minister Manohar Lal Khattar on how party members could now marry Kashmiri girls.

Senior TV journalist Harmeet Shah Singh also argued in DailyO that the support for Kashmiris came “Because the Sikhs saw it all”. He also talked about how a Sikh leader, Guru Tegh Bahadur, sacrificed his life for the sake of Kashmiri Pandits in 1675.

“Remember, the Sikhs have had their share of similar experiences with Indira Gandhi,” he wrote, comparing the Kashmir clampdown to Punjab in 1984.

Radical Sikh groups have also joined the fray in condemning the Centre’s actions in J&K. On Thursday, Sikh Siyasat News quoted the Dal Khalsa’s open letter to United Nation Human Rights Commission head Michelle Bachelet as saying, “Kashmir continues to be a concentration camp for the last 40 day…the heaven on earth has been turned into a living hell.”

Prabhjit Singh is a freelance journalist with extensive experience covering Punjab and Haryana.

The Chronicle of a Bloody Massacre in Saadat Hasan Manto’s Ancestral Amritsar

Manto, a young boy at the time of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, has painted the event and its aftermath orally through his characters.

This is the second article in a two-part series on Manto’s writing on Jallianwala Bagh. Read the first here.

May 2019 marks Saadat Hasan Manto’s 107th birth anniversary. 

The news of the conditions in Amritsar had reached other cities. There was a big protest in Delhi and a strike in Kasur on April 11. People got inflamed and assumed the shape of a mob. The participants of this mob murdered a few Europeans, tried to burn the railway station and other government buildings and destroyed the wire and telephone system. The army was called and the English administration flogged the people and made arrests.

After Amritsar, the greatest hardship came in Lahore. The chief administrator of the Martial Law General Johnston had the agitators flogged even there. Meanwhile, 500 students and teachers were arrested in Lahore and taken on foot to the Shahi Qila as punishment. Then, political leaders Pandit Ram Bhaj, Hari Krishan and Duni Chand were expelled from the district.

In Lyallpur (now Faisalabad), the mob set fire to the railway station and godowns of Cotton Mills. As retribution for this protest, all the students of a school in Lyallpur were taken to stand in the ground outside the office of Major Smith, their hands tied and were asked to bow their heads in front of the major and salute the Union Jack.

In Gujranwala, people witnessed a strange sight in the morning. A headless calf had been tied to one side of the railway station while a dead pig was hanging on the other. This was a tactic to inflame the Hindus and Muslims – the administration’s doing – who then set fire to the railway station, and destroyed the telecommunications system. Here, the English administration sought the services of the air force, which bombed Gujranwala and the neighbouring villages. A military division fired machine guns to disperse those protesting inside and outside the railway station.

There were similar events in other cities of Punjab and Martial Law was imposed in five districts.

On April 12, the Lieutenant-Governor of Punjab, Michael O’Dwyer apprised the Indian government in Simla via telephone about the conditions, which responded saying: ‘Even if the army has to fire bullets to control the situation, restraint should not be practiced. An example should be set as to the consequences of rebellious activities’.

Therefore, as per a government order, on April 12, Governor O’Dwyer prohibited all kinds of gatherings and meetings. They had information about a big gathering of Indians in Jallianwala Bagh.

The day was April 13. Given the circumstances in the city, the business of life was suspended. People were all but besieged in homes. Manto’s father was just about to go outside when the servant came and informed that despite the Governor’s clear declaration, a public meeting was to be held in Amritsar near the evening.

This was terrifying news. The airplanes, the patrols of armed police and the state of sadness on the faces of people were the premonition of some horrible calamity. He was thinking about postponing the thought of going outside when the din of airplanes rose, as if several humans were groaning in harmony with pain. Hearing the din of planes, Manto ran out of the room carrying his air-gun and began to look towards the sky above in that should they drop any cannon, he would shoot them down with his air-gun.

At that moment, an iron determination was evident on his innocent face. However, right before his eyes, the plane dropped some things resembling pieces of paper. As soon as they dropped, these pieces flew in the air like moths, then came very near and began to drop in streets, houses and rooftops. A few of these papers also fell on the upper rooftop of Manto’s home. Manto scampered upstairs and brought back that paper.

‘Abba jaan… The plane folks have dropped these slips instead of cannons.’

Also read: The 1919 Amritsar Violence, Through Saadat Hasan Manto’s Eyes

Ghulam Hasan Manto began reading – they were government advertisements. It was clearly mentioned that the government had denied permission for the gathering, and if a meeting was held, the people themselves would be responsible for the consequences. Ghulam Hasan’s complexion turned yellow. Now he could clearly visualise the impending calamity. Manto, looking at his father appear so surprised and worried after reading the advertisement, asked in fear, ‘What is written on them?’

‘Saadat, go away now…go play with your gun.’ the father said.

‘But what is written on it Abba jaan?’

‘It’s written that there will be a show in the evening today’, Ghulam Hasan said in order to delay the matter.

‘There will be a show! Then I will go too.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Can’t I go to this show with you?’

‘Fine, I will take you…now go play’, Ghulam Hasan said, afraid to extend the conversation any further.

‘Play where…you don’t let me go outside. Mother and sister do not play with me. My classmate Tufail does not come these days. Who should I play with now? We will definitely go see the show in the evening right?’

Manto went inside without waiting for an answer.

He wandered around before settling himself in his father’s sitting room and began to see the view outside the window. He saw that the shops in the bazaar were closed, but people were going to and fro today. He began to wait with bated breath for the evening.

People were coming and going in the bazaars. It was the festival of Baisakhi. Even during those chaotic days, people from near and far gathered in Amritsar where the mela of Baisakhi was celebrated with fervour and festivity. Manto had not been out to play for the last 2-3 days so he didn’t know about the Baisakhi fair. Even his family members did not mention fearing he would insist on watching. Also, they were doubtful that the fair would even happen.

The English historian Arthur Swinson has, however, written that ‘That day, thousands of people were gathered in Jallianwala Bagh. There was a festive scene and people were joyously celebrating the festival. Several were lying on the grass of the Bagh. Many were busy playing cards and there were also a lot of people who were busy in fun and sport along with their children and these latter were aged from three to twelve years.’

The garden was gradually getting busier. There were police check posts on the city routes. Armed white soldiers were standing at the mouth of the bazaars but people were arriving from everywhere. There were only four narrow gates for entry into Jallianwala Bagh, all of which were being guarded.

Also read: Why Popular Local Memory of Jallianwala Bagh Doesn’t Fit the National Narrative

There were roaring shouts and these groups were stopped by the administration. Jostling kept increasing at the entry gates. There were protesting cries. The armed soldiers tried to stop them, but fear was replaced by passion on their faces. There was a sea of humans inside the Bagh. The dust rose from the feet and hovered over their heads. There was utter confusion.

The Muslims were entering shouting the name of their God and religious leaders, and the Hindus and Sikhs responded with passion and fervour, calling out to their own Gods and leaders. The crowd was now getting out of the administration’s control. A Hindu leader addressed the crowd from a raised position. Then a Muslim leader took that platform.

The English officers, having failed to establish control, looked on as a bearded man addressed the crowd by gesturing and screaming. Then, right before their eyes, a gora (white man) appeared wearing a military officer’s uniform. He threw the bearded one down and began to say something, gesturing in a similar manner. The crowd went silent for a moment as the angry voice of the white man roared. No one could actually understand what he was saying, but it was evident from his gestures and postures that he was asking the crowd to expel.

Suddenly, his voice was drowned out by a noise. Someone took off his shoe and threw it in the white man’s direction. Then a sudden assault of shoes began from several directions. Alongside, a really huge crowd was also moving. Several people then began flinging their clothes at the police authorities.

There must have been 20,000-25,000 people in Jallianwala Bagh when General Dyer entered along with his army. The armoured military cars were left outside since they could not enter through the narrow gates. All exits were closed. The army immediately took positions and loaded their machine guns as General Dyer had ordered. A swift wind was blowing, bring with it a message of the impending bloody calamity.

General Reginald Dyer. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

The whole city was wrapped in an unknown fear. Ghulam Hasan Manto and his wife were sitting in silence in the courtyard of their house. Their son was gazing at them, sitting with his sister on the charpoy. There was a whistle-like voice in the swift wind.

Trr, trr, trr, trr…

The colour of Saadat’s father’s face became white like paper upon hearing these voices.

He could only manage to utter the word ‘bullet.’ and Saadat’s mother became gripped with fear. She stood up, so did her daughter. Both went into the room one after the other. Saadat got up from the charpoy, approached his father and said, ‘Abba, get up. Let’s go, the show has begun.’

‘What show?’ Maulvi Ghulam Hasan responded in a stern tone.

‘The show about which the slips were advertising in the morning. The mela has begun, you hear the noise of these crackers right?’

‘There’s still a lot of time. No need to hurry’, the father said, concealing his fear. ‘Now go study inside in the room with your sister.’

Filled with disappointment, Saadat went towards the kitchen. Not finding his mother there, he went looking in the other room. The firing – what Saadat thought was the noise of crackers – continued.

In Jallianwala Bagh, death was roaring. A rare scene had begun to unravel. Panic had spread throughout and there was chaos. Everyone was running to save their lives. The running men targeted by bullets somersaulted in the air as if they were clowns in a circus falling down during a performance. People fell, balanced, and then collided with each other, but the pursuing bullets ran much faster than humans.

Heaps of those who died and were injured lay at several places in the Bagh, and when people headed towards the narrow exit gates, they would have to face a hail of bullets there.

The white soldiers were firing continuously. Thousands, unable to leave through the exit gates, tried to scale the walls, which at some places was as much as 10 feet high. The bullets did not spare even them. There was a well towards the left of the Bagh and human screams were roaring from inside it.

Panorama of Jallianwala Bagh. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Afterwards, while sitting on the capstone of this well, Saadat Hasan Manto felt that incident with his heartbeats, with the eye of his imagination and chronicled it. Manto has written in his short story Deevana Shayir, ‘The rustle of dry leaves beneath my footsteps was making a sound like the breaking of dried bones. I felt on every step as if countless corpses are lying on the evergreen bed of grass. I quickened my steps and with beating heart sat on the platform that was constructed around the well.’

While sitting there, he met an insane poet who was aggrieved over the injustice of that bloody incident. Manto said to him, ‘I was young at the time of this incident so very foggy traces of it remain in my mind. I have a lot of respect in my heart for these people who had sacrificed their lives for their motherland and passion for freedom. Bullets were raining Trr trr. People were dying over each other fleeing everywhere in horror. Death is gruesome, but oppression is many times more terrifying and gruesome!!!’

Also read: A Single Heart Beating in Jallianwala Bagh

There were bullet marks on the wall in front of the well and the broken square latticed window. These innumerable marks seemed like thousands of bloody eyes watching. The legs of men hanging by the walls around the Bagh were turned inwards and their heads and arms were clinging outwards. They were those unfortunate ones who had climbed the wall, hoping to scale it, but had instead come within the range of bullets. When seem from inside, it appeared as if a dhobi had spread out several different kinds of clothes to dry.

Bullet holes in the wall at Jallianwala Bagh. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Far in the distance, Saadat was looking outside from his window. The evening was setting in. The bazaar was deserted except for the sound of the wind. After momentary pauses, the noise of bullets could be heard. Suddenly, Saadat heard the sound of someone moaning. He was looking in amazement when a boy came running from the chowk, screaming, running, stumbling. He then fell exactly opposite to their house. He was injured. Saadat became really scared at this sight, ran to his father and said, ‘Abba abba someone has fallen there in the bazaar. He is also bleeding.’

Upon hearing this, Ghulam Hasan Manto went to the window and saw that indeed a young boy was lying outside face down. He had a wound on his calf from which a lot of blood was oozing. But he did not have the courage to go near and help. He knew too well the horrible conditions outside. So the boy remained there gasping, dying.

‘Abba jaan, has someone hit that boy?’

The father shut the window and went into the room nodding in assent… The noise of bullets coming from the direction of the Bagh had abated. Saadat stood thinking how much pain that boy would have felt from such a big wound. Once he had been unable to sleep the whole night due to a prick from a penknife – and his parents had sat by his bedside. The moment this thought came to him, he felt as if that wound was in his own calf and it had acute pain… his eyes became wet. When his mother came inside, she asked: ‘My bete, why are you crying?’

Ammi has someone hit that injured boy?’ He asked in a bittersweet voice, pointing a finger outside the window.

The mother had learnt about the injured boy and the conditions outside from her husband. ‘He must have done something wrong’, the mother said, to him changing the topic.

‘But in school, a mischief or wrong is punished with a cane. It never bleeds,’ Saadat said, looking at his mother with uncertainty. ‘Won’t his father be mad at the teacher when he goes to the school; whoever has hit him so badly. One day when master sahib pulled my ears so hard that they turned red, Abba jaan had gone to the headmaster to complain na?’

‘Bete! The master who hit him is a very powerful man.’

‘Is he even more powerful than Allah mian?’

‘No he is less powerful than Him.’

‘Do you know him?’

‘No…. leave this nonsense. It’s night time. Chalo, let’s sleep’, the mother grabbed his arm to take him to the other room to his sister.

‘Allah mian! I pray that the master who has hit that boy, you punish him severely. Snatch such a cane from him which causes bleeding…I too haven’t memorised the tables. So I’m afraid lest my teacher too finds such a cane… If you do not listen to me, then I too will be displeased with you,’ Saadat prayed in his heart as he slept.

§

Some parts from the aforementioned narrative are derived from Saadat Hasan Manto’s first short story Tamasha, which he witnessed in his young age during the Martial Law of 1919. There are merely two main characters in Tamasha: father and son (the child’s name in the short story though is Khalid but it is clear from study that it is Manto in the form of Khalid) The conversation in the form of a dialogue between a father and son in the aforementioned pages encompasses the personality and psychology of Manto in every way.

In the plot of this short story carrying the background of Jallianwala Bagh, the citizens of the city were protesting against the ruler of the time and the empire had resorted to extreme oppression and injustice against them. Due to this, a strange silence descended over the city for many days.

The child was asking the father to go see the show when the sounds of bullets firing began to be heard in the city. Hearing these sounds, the father sent the child to the mother inside. Entering the home, the child saw from the window the injured boy falling outside the house.

Saadat Hasan Manto says in the short story that although the boy was seriously injured and lying on the road, out of fear of the ruler, neither the child’s father nor anyone else dared to help him or at least pick him from the road and lay him down on the platform of the shop where he could lie with comfort or if he had passed away, would have laid aside.

Here, Manto indicates another social problem wherein vehicles are used to shift unarmed and poor people to jail, and not to move some poor and injured innocent to a hospital or home.

§

That night in Amritsar was extremely gruesome. A horrifying silence overshadowed the Bagh and its environs. General Dyer of the British government established an unforgettable example of favouring wanton injury with this bloody incident. He made no arrangements for the dead and injured. Only the social welfare organisation Sewa Samiti did a bit of work by shifting a few injured to the hospital with the permission of General Dyer.

Curfew was imposed in Amritsar and nobody was permitted to go outside after 8 pm. Even the relatives of those who had died could not pick the bodies of their slain ones, and neither the Sewa Samiti was allowed after that time to shift the dead and injured to their destination.

There was hardly a drop of water for the injured in the Bagh. They were moaning lying on the ground, bodies bruised and lips crusted with dryness. The dead youth, aged, women, children were lying moist in their own blood. Dogs were barking and wild animals were lying in wait on the walls when to make a meal out of them.

Also read: Why the Context of the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre Is So Important

What great punishment was meted out to that rebel city. There was uninterrupted indiscriminate firing for 15 minutes on unarmed people – 399 were killed and more than 2000 wounded.

This firing ceased when the soldiers ran out of ammunition. At least 1650 rounds were fired in this duration. These were the numbers of the official report and according to the figures collected unofficially, the number of dead was between 500 to 600, and the wounded was near 3,000.

Due to the imposition of Martial Law and censorship of newspapers, accurate news was not reaching other parts of the country. But when the truth was known, the whole of India became a veritable protest from head to foot. A great protest camp set up in Jallianwala Bagh and people began a series of swift arrests in succession. In this reference, Manto has mentioned the protest camps in Jallianwala Bagh and the enthusiasts of freedom giving themselves up for arrest in his short story Swaraj ke Liye and has painted that situation orally through the characters. He himself also kept participating in that protest.

Even after the horrible incidents, Lord Chelmsford and Michael O’Dwyer did not bother to visit Amritsar. The British government, however, did appoint an investigative commission under the chairmanship of Lord Hunter, a member of the House of Lords, whose ambit was to appraise and enquire into governmental injustices in Punjab during Martial Law.

Simultaneously, the Congress appointed its own investigative commission under the chairmanship of Motilal Nehru. That crowd in Jallianwala Bagh was in no way a gathering of rebels, this much was confessed by General Dyer himself too in front of the Hunter Commission. The crux of the report compiled by the Hunter Commission was that there was no need for the imposition of Martial Law in Punjab. The commission also said that during the Martial Law, the British administration has handed down sentences more severe than necessary. But it concurred with Michael O’Dwyer that a situation of an organised rebellion in Punjab was created and in these circumstances, greater punishments than usual were essential in order to crush the rebellion.

But Lord Montagu did not agree with this argument; he confessed to this issue that General Dyer had no authority to punish peaceful and unarmed people gathered in Jallianwala Bagh so severely.

The editor of the Morning Post newspaper collected a donation of 30,000 pounds from the British public so that General Dyer could be rewarded for his services to the British Empire, and most of the members of the Conservative Party and several members of the House of Lords established an organisation to defend General Dyer so that arrangements could be made to save him from any possible punishment.

The Army Council of Britain, which had taken up the responsibility of defending General Dyer’s case, requested that he should be punished merely by awarding him half his pension after retirement. The Army Council also said that General Dyer had committed only an error of proportion in Jallianwala Bagh; and the Court of Justice of Britain afterwards even exonerated Dyer of this accusation, who had, with his “accomplishment” decorated the forehead of Manto’s ancestral city Amritsar with a pride-worthy wound like Jallianwala Bagh.

Raza Naeem is a Pakistani social scientist, book critic, and an award-winning translator and dramatic reader currently based in Lahore. He is the recipient of a prestigious 2013-2014 Charles Wallace Trust Fellowship in the UK for his translation and interpretive work on Saadat Hasan Manto’s essays. His most recent work is a contribution to the edited volume Jallianwala Bagh: Literary Responses in Prose & Poetry (Niyogi Books, 2019). He is currently the President of the Progressive Writers Association in Lahore. He can be reached at razanaeem@hotmail.com.

The 1919 Amritsar Violence, Through Saadat Hasan Manto’s Eyes

Manto was then nine years old.

This is the first article in a two-part series on Manto’s writing on Jallianwala Bagh.

‘I am the trader of sighs
To versify blood is my mission
Remaining winds of the garden!
Gather your refuges…for
My fiery songs
Are about to cause an upheaval within depressed bosoms.’

Amritsar was a city of worshippers of freedom. A 100 years ago this month, the city witnessed the bloody tragedy of Jallianwala Bagh.

When this violence occurred in 1919, Saadat Hasan Manto was nine years old. The hero of Jallianwala, Dr Saifuddin Kitchlew, was a close relative of Manto’s and because of him, the Manto family also had to face misfortunes. Due to this, the calamity was preserved in Manto’s memory. He has written a few short stories on what happened: Tamasha, 1919 ki Aik Baat, Divaana ShayirSwaraj ke Liye, etc.

Manto’s ancestral homes were in Kucha Vakilan (Chowk Fareed), Amritsar. Since a majority of his family members were linked to the legal profession, and almost all the houses in this quarter belonged to the Manto family, it had become famous as the ‘Lawyers Quarter’. Several powerful Muslim families lived here, and prominent Muslim leaders too were born there.

In addition to Kitchlew, Attaullah Bukhari, Qazi Fazlullah and others were also important political leaders. Several others were eminent lawyers and barristers. Manto’s eldest uncle, Asadullah Manto, and Manto’s two elder brothers, Khwaja Muhammad Hasan Manto and Khwaja Saeed Hasan Manto, were also barristers. Their higher education degrees were from the UK.

Manto’s own initial education was at home. When he was a child of 8-9 years, he was admitted to Class 4 of the Muslim School. The primary section of the school was located near Chowk Fareed, which was only minutes away from their home. After passing Class 4, he was admitted to Class 5 at the Government High School Amritsar, near the statue of Queen Victoria. While he was here, an incident occurred which is worth noting, as it shaped the writer in Manto and was a precursor to the Jallianwala Bagh massacre.

In 1919, the whole of Punjab was agitating against the British government’s Rowlatt Act. Indian members of the Legislative Council had strongly opposed the Act; Muhammad Ali Jinnah had resigned from the Council in protest. The newspapers also strongly opposed it, but contrary to all popular feelings, this law took the shape of an Act by being passed on March 21, 1919.

This was deemed humiliating and oppressive. As per the Act, no recourse to appeal, dalil (evidence) or vakil (lawyer) could be had. In that period, Kitchlew and Maulana Ali Azhar, contemporaries of Maulana Zafar Ali Khan, were also excellent speakers. The Muslims of India were already at the forefront of the movement for the restoration of the Caliphate in Turkey under the leadership of the Ali brothers – Maulana Muhammad Ali Jauhar and Maulana Shaukat Ali. Mahatma Gandhi too had given the call for a country-wide satyagraha on February 25, 1919.

Also read: Did the Victims of Jallianwala Bagh Deserve Pity – or Justice?

The leaders of the Punjab branch of the Indian National Congress were Kitchlew. On March 30, a meeting organised by the two was attended by about 30,000 people. This popular wave worried the then-provincial government. Deputy commissioner of Amritsar Irving warned Kitchlew not to participate in the movement, but the leaders did not heed this at all. Many strikes occurred across the province; now the Act had created an explosive atmosphere.

In these circumstances, governor of Punjab Michael O’Dwyer deemed gatherings and strikes to be a conspiracy against the British government and a declaration of war against the British crown. When Gandhi arrived in Delhi from Bombay on April 8 to review the effects of the movement, he received an official order under which he was barred from entering Punjab; but he proceeded towards Amritsar. He was arrested on the way near Palwal and sent back to Bombay.

The government supplied cantonments in Punjab with further military reinforcements and decided to remove Kitchlew and Satyapal from Amritsar on April 9. Coincidentally on that day, Hindus had taken out a procession on the occasion Ram Navami, and Muslims too were participating in large numbers. The deputy commissioner of Delhi was of the opinion that the coming together of Muslims and Hindus in this manner has assumed a new political importance.

The rulers were definitely nervous. Irving had received orders for the expulsion of Kitchlew and Satyapal, but he was not ready to follow them since he thought that there was no danger at that moment. People organised peacefully and there was no question of violence, but the very name Governor O’Dwyer stood for blind power. He rejected the deputy commissioner’s report. So Irving had to take measures which he thought would mitigate the trouble.

On April 10 at 10 am, Irving called Kitchlew and Satyapal to his bungalow and read out the order of district expulsion to them. He had the two leaders escorted out of the back door and put in a car, and took them to an unknown location. The English officers thought that the situation would improve after their removal. But when Congress members who had come along with their leaders to the deputy commissioner’s bungalow protested, they were arrested. The news spread like wildfire. Bazaars and businesses closed down. People began to congregate in droves near the Hall Gate.

All kinds of people were there that day, and among them was school student Manto. Though he was young, he wanted to find out what had happened and why there was a sense of chaos. When people collected near the Gate, a slogan could be heard: “Everyone should go together to the deputy commissioner bahadur and request for the cancellation of the expulsion orders of our beloved leaders.” But the moment to make that request never came. The rulers deemed this congregation of the people illegal.

Also read: Jallianwalla Bagh Aftermath: An Eyewitness Account of the Congress Inquiry Report

This happened on April 9, and when people began to march from Hall Gate, Manto was with them too. These were unarmed and peaceful people. The procession was stopped near the gate. When they tried to proceed further, the goras opened fire on the other side. Some were injured by bullets and many were injured in the resultant stampede. There was a drain on the right side and some fell into it, including young Manto. The drain was not deep; he remained hidden there until the bullets stopped.

He then returned near the Hall Gate, crossing the drain from the other side passing through the takia of Zahira Pir. Here, a gang of 30-40 youth was hurling stones in anger at the clock of the Hall Gate. Its glass broke and fell on the road. A young man cried, “Chalo…now let’s break the statue of the Queen.” His friend said, “No yaar..let’s burn the magistrate’s office.” Another interrupted, “And all the banks too…” An agitated young man, stopping them, said, “Wait…what use is this? Chalo let’s kill the armed ones on the bridge.”

Despite being at a distance, Manto recognised him. He was Thaila Kanjar….his name was Tufail but was famous as Thaila Kanjar. He was the son of a prostitute, and famous as a drunkard and gambler. That was all young Manto knew about him. Thaila’s sisters, Shamshad and Almas, were the most beautiful courtesans of their time. The richest people would attend their mujra. Both sisters were always complaining about their brother’s tricks.

Manto could see that he was passionate. A mini-party of boys had accompanied him. Some hotheads advanced towards the statue of the Queen. Thaila screamed forcefully, “I said do not waste your passion there, come here with me…chalo let’s kill them who have taken the life of our innocent men and injured them. By God, if we come together, we can wring their necks…aao chalo!”

Some stopped, the rest went. “Thaila just wants to tell them that he is not the one to be afraid of bullets,” he addressed his fellows. “Those who are afraid can return.” Thaila quickened his steps, the others also did the same.

Manto was watching, hidden near the fountain. The bridge was 60-70 yards from Hall Gate. When Thaila got close to the British soldiers on horses, a bullet was heard. Everybody ran, but Thaila kept going forward. He looked back and yelled, “Don’t run away…advance forward!” Another shot was fired occurred. Manto saw reddish spots on Thaila’s white shirt, but he did not fall and kept moving forward. Another shot. He stumbled, but with one or two strong steps he jumped at the soldier nearest him and the soldier fell. Thaila was on top of him, his hands around the soldier’s neck. The other soldiers rained bullets on Thaile. Manto could take no more; he fainted near the fountain.

When he regained consciousness, he was home. People had recognised him and taken him back.

Manto turned his eyewitness account into a story, centred around Shamshad and Almas, and the bravery and patriotism with which they responded to their brother’s killing.

After the violence against a peaceful group, the mood in the city changed that day. The rest of the day was marred by violence. Now the crowd was no longer peaceful. It set fire to official buildings, banks, the Town Hall, the central post office, the Mission Hall and the Bhagtanwala Railway Station. The godowns of the National Bank were burnt. Looting intensified in the shops and bazaars.

Also read: Why the Context of the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre Is So Important

Wire and telephone systems were also disconnected and European families were forced to take refuge in the fort and other safe places. This fire spread to the villages of Amritsar too. Twenty Indians were killed in these incidents and countless were injured. People were often shot from the back as they tried to flee.

Six Britishers were also killed in this carnage. Two of them were photographing the great door of Darbar Sahib when two people attacked them with swords. Both died as soon as they fell.

In Sharifpura Chowk, an Englishman had a knife pierced right through his neck. He cried silently, waiting for death; eventually he died.

A British woman was running in terror through the lane linking Hall Bazaar and Sabzi Mandi; a mob was in pursuit after her. They came upon the woman in the middle of the lane and were staring at her. She kept revolving on her heels in fear. She let out screams, the party fell upon her. She disappeared below the men. She managed to jump up and run; she was semi-naked. The mob followed, eventually came upon her and then killed her. This was a woman of a missionary school teacher named Miss Sherwood.

Governor O’Dwyer had received telephone calls in Lahore on the situation of the city. Irving had given the city to the charge of the army. The governor had also immediately sent the deputy commissioner of Lahore, A.J.W. Kitchin, to Amritsar. General Dyer was commanding the army. The machinery of the government was in motion.

The inhabitants of the city were now gathering together. One crowd tried to enter Hall Bazaar from the street. There, a lot of armed soldiers were standing. The crowd stopped, afraid. Meanwhile, suddenly a division of Indian club-wielding police appeared in the bazaar from the opposite direction which started clubbing the crowd; some were hit and others were not. In the same manner, people were stopped by bullets and bayonets at other places too. Kitchin presented a full report of control to Governor O’Dwyer.

Kitchlew and Satyapal had been charged in a conspiracy case. Since Kitchlew was a close relative of the Mantos, Saadat’s two lawyer older brothers went to Lahore from Amritsar to fight ths case.

On April 10, Amritsar was quiet. The authorities too allowed people to bury or burn their dead, but with the instruction that they should return home by 2 pm after completing their last rites. The supply of electricity and water was withheld as punishment.

Also read: A Single Heart Beating in Jallianwala Bagh

When Thaila’s body was brought home for burial, it was riddled with bullets. He was not popular in his community, but everyone began to scream and cry upon seeing his corpse. His sisters were in a stupor. Thaila was buried hastily, amid a state of panic. The same situation was seen across houses, as if mourning the dead was some serious crime committed by their relatives. General Dyer marched with the soldiers in the city.

Manto was sitting near his father in the the courtyard of his home. “Abba jan, why don’t you let me go to school?” he asked

His father said to him, “Beta schools are off.”

Manto said, “Master sahib didn’t inform us. He said that whichever boy will not show his copy after completing schoolwork will be severely punished…you didn’t even let me go yesterday.”

“School is off. So is our office,” his father reasoned with him.

“Okay then that’s fine. Chalo, I’ll hear a very nice story from you today.”

“No bhai, not today.”

“You don’t even let me go out, if I remain at home, I’ll listen to a story from you.”

Manto was adamant. In the meanwhile, suddenly three airplanes passed overhead. Both looked up, terrified. Manto thought that yesterday too planes had been circling the whole day in the sunlight. He could  not reach a conclusion, so he said to his father, “Abba jan, I get really scared by the noise from these planes. Whatever they scream, ask them not to pass over our house.”

“You’re mad indeed.”

“Abba, these planes are so terrible, yesterday Ammi jan was saying that these plane people also have lots of cannons…what id some day they throw a cannon on our homes.”

Manto’s father Ghulam Hasan cracked up at his son’s talk. “Your mother is mad indeed. I will inquire from her why she talks like that at home…don’t worry, there is absolutely nothing of the sort.”

“If the planes do any kind of such mischief, remember I too have a gun, the same one which you had bought me last Eid.” Manto went into his room, practicing marking a target for his air-gun with his finger. He sat at the window of the room which opened towards the bazaar, where everything was quiet. He understood why the bazaars were closed the day of the violence, but why were they closed yesterday and today still? There was no violence outside.

How could young Manto know that all of Punjab was crying silently, beneath the oppression of the British? Arrests were hastily brought into effect in the city. People were publicly flogged. To humiliate citizens, an order was issued for them to salute any Englishman by bowing; the slender lane in which Miss Sherwood was murdered was utilised exclusively for flogging people. Every Indian passing there had to cross the lane by crawling along his or her stomach.

On both sides of this “crawling” lane were two-storey houses. The lane was extremely narrow, dirty and densely-populated. The rule became a source of humiliation and misery for the residents there. They could not bring provisions and basic items from the bazaar and also could not arrange to clean their homes. People of all ages had to suffer. These punishments became infamous across the world – so much so that even Governor O’Dwyer had to contravene General Dyer, because the British government was becoming too notorious.

Raza Naeem is a Pakistani social scientist, book critic, and an award-winning translator and dramatic reader currently based in Lahore. He is the recipient of a prestigious 2013-2014 Charles Wallace Trust Fellowship in the UK for his translation and interpretive work on Saadat Hasan Manto’s essays. His most recent work is a contribution to the edited volume Jallianwala Bagh: Literary Responses in Prose & Poetry (Niyogi Books, 2019). He is currently the President of the Progressive Writers Association in Lahore. He can be reached at razanaeem@hotmail.com.