India: Getting a Baptism by Fire

Time Magazine coverage of the Delhi Pogrom 19 November 1984

"Indira is India, India is Indira." That once ubiquitous slogan seemed even truer in death than in life. No less shocking than the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by two Sikh bodyguards was the brutality that erupted across India in its wake. Frenzied mobs of young Hindu thugs, thirsting for revenge, burned Sikh-owned stores to the ground, dragged Sikhs out of their homes, cars and trains, then clubbed them to death or set them aflame before raging off in search of other victims. The death toll approached 2,000, and in Delhi, where more than 550 died, four days of madness and murder also left some 20,000 Sikhs crowded into refugee camps. Suddenly a nation that had thought of Indira as its mother seemed rudderless and orphaned. "Over the years, Madame kept us in check," said a senior Indian journalist. "Once she is gone, we go berserk."

That orgy of death and disorder pointed up as nothing else the daunting task faced by India's new Prime Minister, Indira's son Rajiv, 40, who determinedly assumed a burden for which scarcely three years of political apprenticeship had little prepared him. After ceremoniously igniting his mother's funeral pyre, Rajiv met with a score of foreign dignitaries who had attended the funeral, including U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz.

"Gandhi came through with a sort of quiet strength that I find reassuring," said Shultz after their meeting. The new leader also met with Pakistan's President Mohammed Zia ul-Haq, whose presence—the first by a Pakistani head of state at the funeral of an Indian Prime Minister—seemed a promising gesture of geod will. That same day, at his first Cabinet meeting, Gandhi disclosed that he would serve as his own Foreign Minister.

After that initial bow to foreign affairs, Rajiv concentrated on restoring order and confidence to Indian life. He lost no time in establishing a commission of inquiry, headed by a Supreme Court justice, to investigate the slaying of his mother. He visited the ravaged, riot-torn areas of his capital in a tour that the pro-Gandhi National Herald declared "had an efficacious and reassuring impact on the morale of the people." Then, in answer to chilling claims that the police had simply shrugged their shoulders or looked away while the bloodbath continued, the new Prime Minister fired the Lieutenant-Governor of Delhi, P.G. Gavai, and replaced him with Home Secretary M.M.K. Wali.

Early this week, some semblance of normal life was beginning, ever so tentatively, to return to the capital. Banks opened, residents ventured into the streets again, and vendors reappeared in market areas. But the tranquillity seemed tenuous. While combat troops patrolled the city in olive armed personnel carriers and Jeeps mounted with machine guns, tan-uniformed policemen wielding bamboo sticks stood guard at every street corner. That, however, was no guarantee of law-and-order. Two TIME photographers were attacked by Hindu toughs who smashed the glasses of one and tore two cameras from the neck of the other.

If the authorities were conspicuous by their presence, so were the Sikhs by their absence. Largely gone from the streets were the familiar bearded, turbaned men who have traditionally driven cabs and manned stores all around the capital. Half their cabs had been burned; perhaps 70% of their shops had been devastated. Some of the Sikhs fled to their homeland of Punjab; some still cowered inside the houses of Hindu neighbors. Others, whose homes were destroyed or had to be abandoned, huddled together within makeshift refugee camps.

There they could do nothing except repeat horror stories of the chaos and carnage that had swept through more than 80 cities. In a camp set up in the Gandhi Memorial Higher School in Delhi, one Sikh survivor after another described how friends and loved ones had been murdered. "My three sons were burned alive," quietly began Amrik Singh, a sad-eyed man whose gray beard had been forcibly shaved to a silver stubble by a mob wielding knives. "They came to my house. They dragged my sons out. They put petrol on them and set them on fire." Near by, Purani Kaur, 60, leaned against a wall in the dusty school courtyard, her eyelids almost swollen shut. "They came to my house with swords and bricks," she said as friends reached out to steady her. "All my five sons and my son-in-law were killed." In a dark corner of a corridor, Amrit Kaur sat with her head swathed in a blood-soaked bandage. "My husband was burned alive. My children were beaten senseless. Then my house was set on fire. My children could not come out, and they were burned inside." With that she broke down and began to weep.

Off to one side of the courtyard women squatted beside a fire, making bread. "There is no food, no water here supplied by the government," complained Satpal Singh, a government stenographer. "Now the people who killed us are free." A 90-year-old man showed the wound across his forehead where gangs of rampaging toughs had ripped off his turban and almost scalped him while cutting the hair that Sikhs must by religion keep unshorn.

"The government, the police did nothing to protect us," he said. "They turned their backs while Sikhs were slaughtered."

Amid the shame and shock, however, there were a few reassuring stories. Some Hindus, at great risk to themselves, organized units for defending Sikh dwellings; some gave sanctuary to their Sikh friends; others offered medical aid to the wounded. Moved by such gestures, 13 prominent Sikh writers and intellectuals issued a statement to "put on record our gratitude to our Hindu brethren." Rajiv also pledged that the government would pay fixed amounts for every Sikh wounded or killed and for every home damaged ordestroyed.

While trying to heal his nation's wounds, the new Prime Minister had asserted his power skillfully. But he had also, in his first week in office, acquired the problem of wide-scale Sikh homelessness to add to the burning fuse of Sikh restlessness. After all the tributes paid to Indira Gandhi, the finest, he knew, would be a resolution to the Sikh problem that had ended his mother's life, and that, if unresolved, could end many more. —By Pico Iyer. Reported by Dean Brelis and James Willwerth/New Delhi

Warriors In The Temple - 9 April 1984

Twenty-Five Years Ago, Yesterday

I came across this story, quite by accident while looking for a picture for another project. This was published 2 months before the Bluestar Massacre. An interesting perspective, eh?

My comments are in (parentheses and italics).

Reprinted from Sikhs Times

By LAURA LÓPEZ and DEAN BRELIS

WARRIORS IN THE TEMPLE

Time, New Delhi, Apr. 9, 1984

Photo: Bhindranwale, with entourage at the Darbar Sahib complex (also known as the Golden Temple complex), Amritsar

Sikhs and Hindus engage in frenzied clashes

In normal circumstances, entering the Golden Temple at Amritsar, Punjab, the holiest of Sikh shrines, is a serene and majestic experience. Over the past few weeks, however, the temple has become a formidable fortress. Religious symbols mix with modern rifle muzzles, automatic weapons, swords and battle-axes. Even women are armed, and some children as young as five have daggers hanging from their belts.

The Sikhs, a sect (sic) of 12 million that broke with Hinduism at the end of the 15th century, are known equally for being charitable hosts and aggressive warriors. Today they seem solely the latter, as they are preparing for what may be the battle of their lives. (Not to mention the battle FOR our lives) Their increased demands for political and religious autonomy in the Punjab and their use of violence to enforce those demands have made them virtual enemies of the government and the Hindus who once lived peacefully in their midst. The Sikhs have become a grave concern for Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Says a senior Indian official: 'It is the greatest, most volatile crisis this government has faced since the days of partition.'

Resistance to Sikh militancy from Hindus in the Punjab and the neighboring state of Haryana has raised the latest violence to alarming levels. Within the past two months, at least 88 people have died and almost 250 have been wounded in frenzied clashes. In one instance, Sikh extremists threw a grenade into a Hindu religious festival in Amritsar. Three people were killed, 51 injured. The Hindus quickly became an outraged mob, charging the police and accusing them of favoring the Sikhs. Unable to contain the crowd with their long bamboo poles, police opened fire with tear gas and finally, in desperation, with bullets. Before the riot was over, the crowd had burned and looted many Sikh shops and smashed to bits Sikh-owned scooters and bicycles. (Just a foreshadowing of things to come in November.)

Ever since India's independence in 1947, the Sikhs claim, they have faced discrimination. (And still do.) Before then they had enjoyed preferential treatment in the armed forces and civil services, and were given special representation in elected bodies. With independence, those privileges were lost, and the Sikhs became politically subservient to the Hindu majority. (It seems to me, the problem was that we refused to become subservient to anyone. We were insisting on the government keeping the promises made before independence, when the Hindu majority needed our help.) Soon they began agitating for their own state. In 1966 they were given Punjab by the federal government. (An outright lie! If we had been "given Punjab by the federal government," we would have raised out flag, formed our government and lived in peace with India.)Although that state has India's richest, most fertile land, the Sikhs still felt their portion was too small compared with that of neighboring Haryana, the state created at the same time for the Hindus. Therefore, the Akali Dal Party, the political arm of the Sikhs, began an insistent drumbeat of peaceful protest. In 1973 the Akalis passed a resolution setting out various religious and political demands, among them that Punjab's capital, Chandigarh, be made a Sikh capital exclusively, and Amritsar a holy city.

Two years ago, an extreme right-wing (Extreme right-wing? Fascist? I've been called many things in my life, some of them uncomplimentary, but never right-wing or fascist. In fact, I have most often been called things like "dirty pinko commie.) Sikh faction emerged, thus turning the protest aggressive and radical. Its fanatical leader, Sant Jarnail Bhindranwale, (It strikes me as strange that first they call him "Sant," then "fanatical.")36, (So young. So strong. So pure.) now commands at least 1,000 armed followers from the most sacred room of the Golden Temple. Hindus have begun to fear that the demands of the more heavily armed Sikhs will be met as Bhindranwale's movement gains momentum. Even when Gandhi assured them that they would not be let down, Hindus organized to combat the Sikh threat. (Had the Hindu leaders kept their promises, there would have been no "Sikh threat"! Do I detect a tone of prejudice or bias here?)

In mid-February Hindus in Haryana staged then-most violent assaults yet. A mob of 5,000 quickly grew to 8,000, attacking however many Sikhs they could find. In one instance half a dozen Sikh prisoners were held immobile and their beards and hair shorn as Hindus hooted and yelled. 'There goes your hair power,' cried out one Hindu demonstration leader, referring to the Sikh belief that spiritual power derives from long hair. (Not exactly. Notice how they try to make us sound silly and superstitious?)Their heads shaved to the scalp, faces no longer covered with luxuriant beards, Sikhs lay in the street, blasphemed, humiliated and scorned. Blasphemed and scorned, to be sure, but not humiliated. No one can be humiliated without their own consent. I'm sure these brothers never consented to be feel humiliated.)

Last week, in an atmosphere of anarchy, Gandhi's government imposed harsh measures of its own. In clashes between police and terrorists in New Delhi, the Punjab and Haryana, at least eight people were killed and 36 wounded. After five moderate Sikhs were assassinated by radical members of the sect, the government ordered the arrest of 1,225 young Sikh fanatics (read Amritdhari) across the country who were suspected of sabotage and planning insurrection. To quell further uprisings, the government increased military patrols on all railroad lines and highways, bringing the total number of security forces assembled in Punjab and Haryana to 50,000.

Gandhi first moved forces in to surround the Golden Temple in early March, in an attempt to isolate Bhindranwale and stop Sikh provocations. It is unlikely, however, that Gandhi would decide to move them inside. By doing so, she would risk committing a sacrilege that all Sikhs, moderate and radical, would find intolerable. (She did and we did and she ended up executed by our beloved shaheeds, Beant Singh Ji and Satwant Singh Ji.) Since Sikhs make up 25% of the armed forces and hold key command positions, Gandhi does not wish to provoke them any more than necessary. Last weekend, in a bold bid for reconciliation, she established a committee to draft an amendment to the constitution that would define the Sikhs as a separate religion. Sikhs immediately responded to the new development by calling off the burning of 100,000 copies of the Constitution, which they had scheduled for this week. At last a breakthrough seemed possible. (Possible? I guess it didn't turn out that way.)

(Until reading this story I really didn't realise how prejudiced against us the Western press, in this case, Time Magazine, a respected news magazine was.)

(And that's the way it was, Monday, 9 April 1984, as we were preparing our trip to India. It was, of course, the last time we were to celebrate my birthday and our anniversary.)