Tag Archives: communalism

Women, Violence and the Silences: 1984

© Pippa Virdee 2024

Forty years ago, Delhi witnessed some of the worst violence since 1947. It was the events of October-November 1984, that prompted Urvashi Butalia to revisit the Partition of 1947 and to excavate the history of the violence that was perpetrated towards women. Both 1947 and 1984 have left indelible scars on the people and region. The opening in her book, The Other Side of Silence (1998), is worth quoting detail:

“Then, in October 1984 the prime minister, Indira Gandhi, was assassinated by her security guards, both Sikhs. For days afterwards Sikhs all over India were attacked in an orgy of violence and revenge. Many homes were destroyed and thousands died. In the outlying suburbs of Delhi more than three thousand were killed, often by being doused in kerosene and then set alight. They died horrible, macabre deaths. Black burn marks on the ground showed where their bodies had lain. The government – now headed by Mrs Gandhi’s son Rajiv remained indifferent, but several citizens’ groups came together to provide relief, food and shelter. I was among the hundreds of people who worked in these groups. Every day, while we were distributing food and blankets, compiling lists of the dead and missing, and helping with compensation claims, we listened to the stories of the people who had suffered. Often older people, who had come to Delhi as refugees in 1947, would remember that they had been through a similar terror before. ‘We didn’t think it could happen to us in our own country,’ they would say. This is like Partition again.” (Page 4-5) “It took 1984 to make me understand how ever-present Partition was in our lives too, to recognize that it could not be so easily put away inside the covers of history books. I could no longer pretend that this was a history that belonged to another time, to someone else.” (page 6)

But history keeps repeating itself, again and again. In 1984, people still had fresh memories of 1947, and so those three days of carnage evoked the spectre of Partition once again. Yet each time this happens, there is collective amnesia and each time there is no justice for the “chief sufferers”, the women who bear the brunt of political-communal violence. Below are a selection of articles and abstracts available on the subject and organised chronologically. At the end, there is a recent documentary by The Quint on “The Kaurs of 1984” which brings to the fore the accounts of the women who endured this and who have continued their fight for justice. .

The Justice G.T. Nanavati commission was a one-man commission, a retired Judge of the Supreme Court of India, appointed by the National Democratic Alliance (NDA) government in May 2000, to investigate the “killing of innocent Sikhs” during the 1984 anti-Sikh riots. The report was finally published in 2005.

Mander, Harsh. “Conflict and Suffering: Survivors of Carnages in 1984 and 2002.” Economic and Political Weekly (2010): 57-65. Even through these were separated by 18 years of history, there is tragically a great deal in common between the communal massacres that played out on the streets of Delhi in 1984 and in settlements and bye-lanes across Gujarat in 2002. This paper documents some of the findings of the research conducted with survivors of these two major pogroms over more than a year in the widows’ colony established by the Delhi government in Tilak Vihar and in four of the worst-hit district of Gujarat. It examines the paths of suffering, renegotiation and healing separately for the direct victims and the vicariously affected.

Kaur, Ravinder. “Wound, Waste, History Rereading 1984.” Economic and Political Weekly (2014): 34-38. Wounds are expected to heal. Our very conception of victims and victimhood is based on this hopeful axiom. But not all wounds heal, some remain in a constant state of decay, degenerate, and ultimately risk turning into waste too. It is this possibility of waste that this article explores. The 1984 violence is one of those historical wounds that has neither faded from public memory nor fully healed. At the heart of this unhealing wound is the question of justice that has long been denied to the victims. The judicial affidavits prepared in early 1985 not only narrate the violence that unfolded systematically, but three decades later testify to the inability of the state apparatus to help heal its wounded citizens

Saluja, Anshu. 2015. “Engaging with Women’s Words and Their Silences: Mapping 1984 and Its Aftermath.” Sikh Formations 11 (3): 343–65. doi:10.1080/17448727.2015.1102554. In studying the 1984 pogrom and its aftermath, I have attempted to capture the voices of women of succeeding generations of the victim families and to gauge some sense of the arduous path which these women have had to tread on. In the present paper, I have examined and assessed the ways and means which women survivors of the 1984 pogrom have relied on to cope with their sense of trauma and hurt, and to negotiate everyday existence. In accounts seeking to document and map the experiences of trauma survivors, the themes which they raise and the issues that they speak of are taken into cognisance, while the gaps in their speech often remain unnoticed and unexplained. But these silences and gaps need to be recognised and highlighted as much as the speech of the survivors. Women survivors of 1984 also do not speak of their own agency, leaving it mostly unarticulated in words. Gauging a sense of this requires going beyond the words that are spoken and attempting, even if tentatively, to unravel and interpret the silences.

Kaur, Ishmeet. “Narrating the Experience: Oral Histories and Testimonies of the 1984 anti-Sikh Carnage Victims.” Journal of Punjab Studies 23 (2016). http://giss.org/jsps_vol_23/6_kaur.pdf This essay attempts to understand the word “testimony” and asks how oral histories can also become testimonial. It considers how new histories can unfold from oral accounts of the victims in the context of 1984 anti-Sikh carnage in Delhi. It argues that formal testimonies may misrepresent events by diminishing the gravity of the violence experienced by the victims, while oral narrations may be considered useful historical sources. As a case study, we consider selected affidavits submitted to Nanavati Commission in 2000, as well as oral narratives of the survivors recorded during a field visit to the Tilak Vihar widow’s colony in April 2015.

Arora, Kamal. “Legacies of violence: Sikh women in Delhi’s” Widow Colony”.” PhD diss., University of British Columbia, 2017. https://open.library.ubc.ca/soa/cIRcle/collections/ubctheses/24/items/1.0343994 This dissertation examines how Sikh women who survived the anti-Sikh massacre in 1984 in Delhi, India, cope with the long-term legacies of violence and trauma amid the backdrop of the urban space of the city. After the assassination of then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by her Sikh bodyguards, approximately thirty-five hundred Sikh men were killed in October and November 1984. Many of the survivors, Sikh widows and their families, were relocated shortly after to the “Widow Colony,” a designated slum also known as Tilak Vihar, within the boundary of Tilak Nagar in West Delhi, as a means of rehabilitation and compensation. The work arises from fieldwork carried out between December 2012 and March 2014. I begin by discussing in depth the space of the Widow Colony and its relation to the rest of the city of Delhi. I then analyze the events of the 1984 massacre through the narratives of Sikh widows and how they remember their experiences of violence. I discuss how violence can have long-term ramifications for everyday life in arenas such as kinship networks, economic stability, health and wellness, and social life. These experiences are further amplified by gender, caste, and class. I also examine the impact of the stigma of widowhood in this community. This research seeks to interrogate how memories of violence inform, and are constituted by, embodied, affective practices carried out in a gendered space produced by the state. I argue that Sikh widows cope with long-term trauma by creating new forms of sociality and memory through their everyday lives and religious practices in the Widow Colony. The memory of the 1984 violence figures heavily among the Sikh diaspora. Thus, I also explore the relationship between the Widow Colony and Sikhs in the transnational arena.

Arora, Kamal, ““I Get Peace:” Gender and Religious Life in a Delhi Gurdwara” Religions 11, no. 3: 135 2020. https://doi.org/10.3390/rel11030135 In October and November of 1984, after the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by her Sikh bodyguards, approximately 3500 Sikh men were killed in Delhi, India. Many of the survivors—Sikh widows and their kin—were relocated thereafter to the “Widow Colony”, also known as Tilak Vihar, within the boundary of Tilak Nagar in West Delhi, as a means of rehabilitation and compensation. Within this colony lies the Shaheedganj Gurdwara, frequented by widows and their families. Based on ethnographic fieldwork, I explore the intersections between violence, widowhood, and gendered religious practice in this place of worship. Memories of violence and experiences of widowhood inform and intersect with embodied religious practices in this place. I argue that the gurdwara is primarily a female place; although male-administered, it is a place that, through women’s practices, becomes a gendered counterpublic, allowing women a place to socialize and heal in an area where there is little public space for women to gather. The gurdwara has been re-appropriated away from formal religious practice by these widows, functioning as a place that enables the subversive exchange of local knowledges and viewpoints and a repository of shared experiences that reifies and reclaims gendered loss.

Agarwal, Yamini. Urban Marginalization, Exclusion and Education-the Widows’ Colony in Delhi. Bonn: Max-Weber-Stiftung-Deutsche Geisteswissenschaftliche Institute im Ausland, 2020. This paper examines the many exclusions and marginalities experienced in urban neighbourhoods which are formed as a result of communal violence. It draws on an ethnographic study of Tilak Vihar, also known as the Colony of Widows, where the survivors of the 1984 anti-Sikh violence were resettled. By examining their life histories, the paper explores how women survivors have been caught up in a vicious circle of poverty and lack of educational and occupational opportunities due to their location in a highly stigmatized and gendered space. This has affected the education of their children, as reflected in limited school choices and poverty forcing young people to drop out of schools to fend for their families. The paper also looks into the role of community groups in Tilak Vihar, which have become the main source of support for families given the retreat of the state from this space. The paper underscores the everyday violence that survivors experience due to their gender and spatial location.

Saluja, Anshu. “Gendered Erasures in Memory: Silencing of Cases of Sexual Violence in 1984.” Sikh Formations 20 (3): 149–63, 2024. doi:10.1080/17448727.2024.2384843. In this paper, I have addressed the issue of sexual violence in the specific context of the 1984 anti-Sikh carnage in Delhi. Though a significant number of cases of sexual assault took place in Delhi in November 1984, they have largely remained shrouded in obscurity. I have attempted to analyse the reasons, prompting a near total silence on these instances. In undertaking this inquiry, the paper reflects on the selective, and often disempowering, nature of memory-making and preservation. It goes on to ask the critical question: what constitutes legitimate memory?

Kaur, Jasleen, and Vinita Mohindra. “Spectral Wounds of 1984: Sikh Massacre in Harpreet Kaur’s The Widow Colony: India’s Unsettled Settlement.” Sikh Formations, March, 1–11, 2024. doi:10.1080/17448727.2024.2321416. In 1984, Sikhs were massacred following the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Cultural expressions attempt to foreground the haunting legacies of this genocide. This paper explores Harpreet Kaur’s documentary, The Widow Colony- India’s Unsettled Settlement which unfolds as trauma testimony of the understudied conflict, contextualizing the spectral wounds of Sikh widows and their struggle for survival. Using hauntology and postmemory as critical lens, this article examines the spectral wounds of 1984 Sikh genocide. It also focuses on the gendered dimensions of violence against Sikh women by enunciating their doubly victimized sensibility through their experiences of shame, trauma and suffering.

Kaur, Jasleen, and Vinita Mohindra. “(Un)Dead Past of 1984 Sikh Massacre in Jaspreet Singh’s Helium.” Sikh Formations, September, 1–19, 2024. doi:10.1080/17448727.2024.2408859. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s assassination followed the 1984 state-sanctioned massacre of Sikhs. This historical violence haunts survivors, and its mediation in cultural texts reshapes the interplay between history and memory, voicing forgotten narratives. However, the complex historical agency and collective silences on the 1984 Sikh genocide leave its cultural and literary representations undertheorized. Jaspreet Singh’s Helium (2013), serving as a cultural archive, delves into the haunting legacies of this genocide, highlighting its role in memorializing historical loss. Applying hauntology and Agamben’s homo sacer, this article investigates how spectral wounds reveal dystopic violence, excluding Sikhs from legal protection.

The Kaurs of 1984. Quint Documentary.

Kitabe aur ta.aliim

“Of all the social sciences, it is history which rouses the greatest interest in the minds of the politicians. There are various reasons for this. It has always had an inventive and purposive use. The line between history and mythology is thought to be thin; the past can be used to lend legitimacy to any aspect of the present….”

R. Mahalakshmi, ‘Communalising history textbooks’

Resource list:

  • Extract published from ‘RSS and School Education’ from the book RSS, School Texts and the Murder of Mahatma Gandhi, written by Aditya Mukherjee, Mridula Mukherjee and Sucheta Mahajan, 2008. Published by Indian History Collective.
  • R. Mahalakshmi, ‘Communalising history textbooks’ Frontline, 2 August 2021
  • Sylvie Guichard. The Construction of History and Nationalism in India. Textbooks, Controversies and Politics. London / New York: Routledge, 2010.
  • Kusha Anand & Marie Lall (2022) The debate between secularism and Hindu nationalism – how India’s textbooks have become the government’s medium for political communication, India Review, 21:1, 77-107, DOI: 10.1080/14736489.2021.2018203
  • Neeladri Bhattacharya, ‘Teaching History in Schools: The Politics of Textbooks in India.’ History Workshop Journal, no. 67 (2009): 99–110. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40646212.
  • Romila Thapar, “The History Debate and School Textbooks in India: A Personal Memoir.” History Workshop Journal, no. 67 (2009): 87–98. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40646211.
  • Sanjay Joshi, Contesting histories and nationalist geographies: A comparison of school textbooks in India and Pakistan. South Asian History and Culture. 1. (2010) 357-377. 10.1080/19472498.2010.485379.
  • Yuji Kuronuma, ‘Hindu nationalism creeping into Indian textbooks’ Asia Nikkei, 25 June 2016.
  • Alex Traub, ‘India’s Dangerous New Curriculum’ The New York Review, 6 December 2018
  • S. S. Dikshit, Nationalism and Indian Education, Sterling Publishers, 1966.
  • Raksha Kumar, ‘Hindu right rewriting Indian textbooks’ Al Jazeera, 4 Nov 2014.
  • Eviane Leidig ‘Rewriting history: The ongoing controversy over textbooks in India’ LSE Blogs 1 June 2016.
  • Aminah Mohammad-Arif, “Textbooks, nationalism and history writing in India and Pakistan.” In Veronique Benei (ed) Manufacturing Citizenship, pp. 143-169. Routledge, 2007.
  • Murali Krishnan, ‘Is the BJP altering textbooks to promote Hindu nationalism?’ DW 25 May 2022.
  • Seema Chishti, ‘Rewriting India’s History Through School Textbooks’ New Lines Magazine, 9 March 2023.
  • Kamala Visweswaran; Michael Witzel; Nandini Manjrekar; Dipta Bhog; Uma Chakravarti, “The Hindutva View of History: Rewriting Textbooks in India and the United States,” Georgetown Journal of International Affairs 10, no. 1 (Winter/Spring 2009): 101-112.
  • Naseem, Mohamed Ayaz, Ratna Ghosh, James McGill, and William C. Mcdonald. “Construction of the ‘other’in history textbooks in India and Pakistan.” In Interculturalism, society and education, pp. 37-44. Brill, 2010. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1163/9789460912498_004
  • Sridhar, M., and Sunita Mishra, eds. Language Policy and Education in India: Documents, contexts and debates. Routledge, 2016.
  • Krishan Kumar, Political agenda of education: A study of colonialist and nationalist ideas. SAGE Publications India, 2005.
  • Sanjay Seth. “Rewriting histories of nationalism: The politics of “moderate nationalism” in India, 1870–1905.” The American Historical Review 104, no. 1 (1999): 95-116. https://doi.org/10.2307/2650182
  • Carey A Watt. “Education for National Efficiency: Constructive Nationalism in North India, 1909–1916.” Modern Asian Studies 31, no. 2 (1997): 339-374. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1017/S0026749X00014335
  • Lars Tore Flåten, Hindu nationalism, history and identity in India: Narrating a Hindu past under the BJP. Taylor & Francis, 2016.
  • Marie Lall, “Educate to hate: The use of education in the creation of antagonistic national identities in India and Pakistan.” Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education 38.1 (2008): 103-119. https://doi.org/10.1080/03057920701467834
  • Janaki Nair, “Textbook Controversies and the Demand for a Past: Public Lives of Indian History.” History Workshop Journal. Vol. 82. No. 1, 2016. https://doi.org/10.1093/hwj/dbw023
  • Romila Thapar, “Politics and the rewriting of history in India.” Critical Quarterly 47.1‐2 (2005): 195-203.

1881: the first full census in British India

As we completed the Census 2021 in the UK today, it made me think back to the first Census that was undertaken in British India in 1881. Actually, the first full census was supposed to take place in 1861 but due to the rebellion of 1857-9 and “due to the sensitivity which the British had developed to what, at least in North India, might be constructed as undue interference in the life of the people, the census was postponed until 1871-2” (Cohn, 324). In 1987, Bernard Cohn was perhaps one of the first to put forward the argument that the colonial census played an important role in constructing identities, thinking about their own numerical strength and the possibilities that this presented in a competitive imperial state.

“The actual taking of the census was a two-step affair. Enumerators were appointed by circle supervisors, who were usually government officials. Supervisors were patwaris, zamindars, schoolteachers, or anyone who was literate. They were given a form with columns on which was to be entered information about every member of a household. The information to be collected was name, religion (e.g., Hindu, Muslim), sect, caste, subdivision of caste, sex, age, marital status, language, birthplace, means of subsistence, education, language in which literate, and infirmities. There was a one-month period before the actual date of the census in which the enumerator was to fill in the forms, and then on the day of the census he was to check the information with the head of the household. As an aid to achieving standardization in the recording of information on caste and subcaste, lists were prepared as early as the 1881 census which gave standard names with variations for the castes. The supervisors were supposed to instruct the enumerators in how to classify responses. The lists of castes were alphabetically arranged giving information on where they were to be found and containing very brief notes” (Cohn, 329).

Cohn notes that the most “complex” and problematic question for the census takers was on the issue of caste. He references the work of Srinivas and Ghurye who raised important questions about the relationship between the census and caste, putting forward the question, why did the British officials record the caste of individuals? Was it perhaps curiosity or part of a design by the British? That is, as some nationalist Indians believed, “to keep alive, if not to exacerbate, the numerous divisions already present in Indian society” (Cohn, 327). The second question is to what extent did the census effect people’s notion of who they were? There arguments and connection have subsequently been advanced by many others about the importance of the census in creating and essentialising identities at a time when communalism was taking root. This period of enormous socio-economic change, and politicisation of identities is further entrenched with the enumeration of people and which religion they belong to. Kenneth Jones, in his work on the socio-religious reform movements in British India, highlights that fact that

“Traditionally, Hinduism lacked a conversion ritual. After the introduction of a decennial census in 1871, religious leaders began to focus their attention on the issue of numerical strength. For Hindus the census reports pictured their community as one in decline, its numbers falling in proportion to those of other religions. Christian success in converting the lower and untouchable castes furthered Hindu fears and led the militant Aryas to develop their own ritual of conversion, shuddhi. Initially shuddhi was employed to purify and readmit Hindus who had converted to Islam or Christianity” (Jones, 100).

Indeed, Gopal Krishan, in his study on the demography of the Punjab, highlights that

“The most fascinating demographic feature of the colonial Punjab was the religious composition of its population. While it represented an evolution of a cultural diversity in history, it became a new and divisive force in polity over time. It was on the basis of religion that the British India was partitioned; and more pertinently the partition was specific to only two provinces, Punjab and Bengal. These two provinces were marked by not only a sensitive composition of the Muslims and non-Muslims (essentially Hindus and Sikhs in the case of Punjab) but also by regional segregation of the two religious’ groups, by and large. In Bengal, the Muslims were in overwhelming majority in the eastern segment and the non-Muslims in its western counterpart; in Punjab, the picture was in reverse, with the Muslims in a large majority in the western wing and the non-Muslims in the eastern” (Krishna, 83).

When it finally came to the Partition in 1947, Sir Cyril Radcliffe was using what are considered to be out-dated figures from the Census conducted during World War Two in 1941. However, the lines between two countries were drawn based on this information.

Bhagat Ram B. ‘Census enumeration, religious identity and communal polarization in India.’ Asian Ethnicity, 2013, 14:4, 434-448, DOI: 10.1080/14631369.2012.710079

Bhagat, Ram B. ‘Census and the Construction of Communalism in India.’ Economic and Political Weekly (2001): 4352-4356.

Bhagat, Ram B. ‘Caste Census: Looking Back, Looking Forward.’ Economic and Political Weekly 42, no. 21 (2007): 1902-905. Accessed March 21, 2021. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4419628.

Cohn, Bernard. ‘The Census, Social Structure and Objectification in South Asia’, in Sarkar, Sumit, and Tanika Sarkar. Caste in Modern India (Orient Blackswan, 2018).

Jones, Kenneth W. Socio-religious reform movements in British India. Vol. 1. Cambridge University Press, 1989.

Krishan, Gopal. ‘Demography of the Punjab (1849-1947).’ Journal of Punjab Studies, 11, no. 1 (2004): 77-89

Singh, Joginder. ‘The Sikhs in the British Census Reports, Punjab.’ Proceedings of the Indian History Congress 46 (1985): 502-06. Accessed March 21, 2021. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44141395.

Yengde, Suraj. ‘Adivasis are not Hindus. Lazy colonial census gave them the label.’ The Print, 9 March 2021.

The 1881 Census is digitized and available via: The Government of India or Digital South Asia Library.

The Spectre of Partition

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Wagha-Attari Border. © 2017 Pippa Virdee

Sharing a screen grab from the last page of my book From the Ashes of 1947Balraj Sahni captured the human tragedy of Partition in this poem, the spectre of which still continues to haunt us everyday. We seem to be unable to be human first.

Screenshot 2020-02-26 at 10.31.46

The Sikh Question: two thoughts

 

Jawaharlal Nehru to Baldev Singh, 23 November 1948 (JN SG File No. 15 Pt.-II):

‘[Your] note about the Sikh position in East Punjab…I was surprised and depressed to read it. I entirely agree with you that we should help the Sikhs wherever possible. But [your] proposals seem to me basically opposed to the very things we proclaim and stand for. Our government as well as the Constituent Assembly have declared themselves to be totally opposed to communalism. We may not be able to put an end to [it], but in all governmental activities we can give it no place…The Constituent Assembly [came] to certain decisions last year in regard to minorities which are applicable to all of them…no government can apply one principle to one community and totally different principle to other communities…This means joint electorates, reservation where desired by the minority, but on the basis of population only and no weightage.

Regarding the carving out of a new province or transfer of Gurgaon district to Delhi, I have been opposing suggestions for provincial redistribution or division…I believe that something of this kind will have to be done but [not] I at this particular time when we are grappling with very difficult problems…Let this matter be considered dispassionately somewhat later. The Punjab, as you remind us, is a frontier province now and we cannot allow the situation in the East Punjab to deteriorate. Nor will it be desirable to think in terms of communal provinces when refashioning our provincial areas…Any untoward development in East Punjab might have serious repercussions on the Kashmir situation…As for the formation of constituencies, any attempt made to gerrymander in favour of this or that group would also lead to bitterness and conflict.

I would very much like to do something to convince the Sikhs that their fears are groundless. Indeed, I do not myself see why a progressive and enterprising community like the Sikhs should be afraid of the future…It would be doing an ill-turn to the Sikhs to treat them as the Muslim League wanted the Muslims to be treated before the Partition. What I have been specially distressed is the strained similarity between the present demands of some of the Sikh leaders and the old Muslim League demands…Can we not learn from bitter experience? You have rightly complained of some articles and cartoons in the few Delhi papers. But whatever these papers may have written, it pales into insignificance before the speeches and statements of Master Tara Singh…extraordinarily irresponsible…open incitement to war and to internal conflict…upset me a great deal’.

Tara Singh (District Jail, Banaras) to Nehru and Patel, 19 April 1949 (JN SG 23 Pt.-I):

‘Since I read in the “Statesman” that the consideration of formation of linguistic provinces in northern India has been indefinitely postponed, I have been deeply thinking how to convince you that the Sikhs are in urgent necessity of maintaining Panthic entity in order to protect their religion…the Sikhs in order to exist, must have a home in the Indian Union where they have some power to practice and advance their culture, religion and language according to their own light…Why should the Congress yield to the communal demand of the Hindus of the Punjab and be a tool in the hands of the communalism of the majority? The vocal section of the Hindus in the East Punjab wish to dominate us and use us as chowkidars…it was the Hindu press which was the first to write that the Hindus cannot live in a province where the Sikhs be in majority…this is the mentality of the so-called nationalists…if the Hindus who have majority in the central government cannot stay in a province where the Sikhs may have majority, how can the Sikhs stay in a Hindu-majority province when they are in hopeless minority in the centre also?…It is of course easy for those in majority to pose as purely nationalists, for best nationalism and worst communalism coincide here…

I feel I am the person responsible for bringing the Sikhs to the present position…In 1929, when [Motilal] Nehru report was published, the Sikhs as a community went out of the Congress…I, with some colleagues, [persuaded] the leaders of the Central Sikh League to come to a settlement…I, with others, came back to the Congress. If the Congress now forgets its promise, I am not going to shirk my responsibility…I may give an example. A [Sikh] deputation met Sardar Patel some time ago and put some demands. He did not agree to any one of them. One of the demands was that while granting certain privileges and concessions to depressed classes, no distinction on religious ground be made…at present, if a Hindu of a depressed class embraces Sikhism, he is deprived of these privileges and if a Sikh of a depressed class embraces Hinduism, he gets the privileges…Congress leaders had [said] that if that distinction was removed, some of the depressed class Hindus would embrace Sikhism. This is how cat was let out of the bag…

Most of the Punjab Hindu leaders [are] communalist at heart…a Sikh protects every religion…Guru Teg Bahadur sacrificed himself to protect Hinduism…so I claim that the Khalsa Panth is not communal…most Hindus do not realise it…independence to them appears Hindu domination…I do believe in the fundamental oneness of the Hindu and Sikh religions, but I do not call myself a Hindu…I wish to save the Khalsa Panth which will prove a pillar of strength of the country, as it did in the past…Sardar Patel does not seem to realise this…my only hope and my only weapon is righteousness of my cause and my faith in Him who saved Prahlad…I make the following two demands: 1) Sikhs and Hindus of the depressed classes should have the same privileges and concessions; 2) a Punjabi-speaking province shall be created so that the bulk of the Sikh population shall not live under Hindu domination on provincial basis…I have never demanded and do not demand now an independent Sikh State…I do demand a self-governing unit within the Indian Union…we are a religious minority in dire need of protection…if my above two demands are not granted, I shall start my fast unto death…Kindly do not enter into technicalities while replying…’

Read further:

J.S. Grewal, Master Tara Singh in Indian History. Colonialism, Nationalism, and the Politics of Sikh Identity, (OUP, 2018)

J.S. Deol, Baldev Singh (1902-1961), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004).

Freedom and Fear: India and Pakistan at 70

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© 2017 Pippa Virdee

The role of any democratic country, with a well-defined rule of law, is to protect ALL its citizens, ensuring that their rights and freedoms are safeguarded. It is in fact difficult to imagine these lands without the heterogeneity that forms the essence of being South Asian. It is this vibrancy and diversity that gives it character and strength. To move toward a homogenous culture is not only problematic but also dangerous because it is based on exclusivity.

Extract:

In the midst of the monsoon of August 1947, British India ceased to be and gave way to two independent nations. The logic of this partition being religious and regional, the older and larger India was reinforced as a Hindu majoritarian society, while the newer and smaller Pakistan emerged as an Islamic country. No partitions are total and absolute but this one was especially terrible and ambiguous; it left about a 20 percent religious minority population on both sides. Moreover, it created two wings of Pakistan with a hostile Indian body-politic in the middle.

This event was not entirely of subcontinental making. The British Empire in Asia cracked under the hands of the Japanese army during World War II, most spectacularly with the fall of Singapore in February 1942, and began to crumble in South Asia after the war. Along with India and Pakistan, Burma (today’s Myanmar) and Ceylon (Sri Lanka) also emerged independent (both in 1948) at this time. All this was to bring about many changes, both internally in India and internationally. Europe, the ravaged battlefield of the world wars, ceased to be the center of the Western world, with political and economic power shifting decisively to the Soviet Union and the United States, representing two contrasting and conflicting ideological visions for the post-1945 world.

The end of British rule in South Asia happened alongside the emergence of this conflict, christened the Cold War. The road to freedom and partition of India and the creation of Pakistan was a long one and accompanied with fundamental social, economic, and political changes. From the mutiny of 1857 to the massacre of 1919 in Jallianwala Bagh, Amritsar; from the formation of the Indian National Congress in 1885 to the establishment of the All-India Muslim League in 1906; from fighting for king and country in two world wars to seeking self-rule in the interwar years; and from the development of an elaborate civil and military bureaucratic and infrastructural apparatus and a space for provincial politics – all these were to completely transform Indian society.

This transformation and its underlying tensions ultimately contributed to that final moment, when in the middle of August 1947, Britain finally bid farewell to its prized colony after being there in one form or another as traders, marauders, administrators, and rulers for over 300 years. Weakened by World War II, the British were forced to accept the new realities of a determined nationalist struggle and an emerging new world order in which old-fashioned colonialism no longer seemed feasible. The journey toward this reality was slow and painful.

This year, on August 14 and 15, the Pakistani and Indian state and society, respectively, will mark 70 years of freedom. The bulk of both countries will be in celebratory mode as much of them were in 1947. Neither will want to remember the hard history of this freedom, nor face the harsh realities of it today. Back in 1947, Mohammad Ali Jinnah was in Karachi and Jawaharlal Nehru in Delhi, both welcoming a new dawn of freedom, but also engulfed in the fear and flames of communal violence. The worst of this was in the partitioned province of the Punjab in North India, where from March 1947 onward in Rawalpindi, communal violence and forced migration of people completely changed the landscape. Over the next year, but largely concentrated in August-December 1947, approximately 1 million were massacred and over 10 million were forced to move from one side of the Radcliffe line to the other. Bengal in East India, the other province to be partitioned, experienced similar, if slower, migration but not murder on the same scale. Other provinces, like Sindh, United Province, Bihar, Assam, Bombay, and the North-Western Frontier Province, also saw religious riots and exchanges of refugee populations.

Partitions are never easy; they are fraught with physical uprooting and dislocation, emotional and psychological separations, and, often, bitter memories of enmities. The partition of British India, though, appeared inescapable in early 1947, once constitutional attempts to secure a confederal arrangement for the Muslims in India to live in a post-colonial Hindu-majority country, without fear, collapsed. The movement for a home for Indian Muslims had gained currency in the interwar period, with poet-philosopher Muhammad Iqbal’s presidential address to the 25th session of the All-India Muslim League in December 1930, envisioning “a consolidated, North-West Indian Muslim State” amalgamating “the Punjab, North-West Frontier province, Sind, and Baluchistan” and self-governing “within or without the British Empire.” It culminated, almost 10 years later, in March 1940, in the lawyer- politician Jinnah’s speech at another session of the League. Describing Muslims as a “nation,” not merely a community, Jinnah demanded “homeland, territory, and state” for them.

Full article in The Diplomat, Issue 33, August 2017 or contact me.

Freedom and Fear: India and Pakistan at 70

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© 2014 Pippa Virdee

In the midst of the monsoon of August 1947, British India ceased to be and gave way to two independent nations. The logic of this Partition being religious and regional, the older and larger India was reinforced as a Hindu majoritarian society, while the newer and smaller Pakistan emerged as an Islamic country. No Partitions are total and absolute but this one was especially terrible and ambiguous and left a little less-or-more than 20% religious minority population on both sides. Moreover, it created two wings of Pakistan with a hostile Indian body-politic in the midst.

This event was not entirely of sub-continental making. The British Empire in Asia had begun to crack at the hands of the Japanese army during World War Two, most spectacularly with the fall of Singapore in February 1942, and crumbled in South Asia afterwards. Along with India and Pakistan, the-then Burma and Ceylon (both 1948) too emerged independent at this time. All this was to bring about many changes, both internally in India and internationally. Europe, the ravaged battlefield of the World Wars, ceased to be the centre of the Western world, with political and economic power shifting decisively to the former Soviet Union and the United States, representing two contrasting and conflicting ideological visions for the post-1945 world.

The end of the British rule in South Asia happened alongside the emergence of this conflict, christened the Cold War. The road to freedom and partition of India and creation of Pakistan was a long one and accompanied with fundamental social, economic and political changes. From the mutiny of 1857 from Calcutta to Delhi to the massacre of 1919 in Jallianwala Bagh, Amritsar, from the formation of the Indian National Congress in 1885 to the establishment of the All-India Muslim League in 1906, from fighting for King and country in two World Wars to seeking self-rule in the inter-war years, and, from the development of an elaborate civil and military bureaucratic and infrastructural apparatus and a space for provincial politics, all these were to completely transform Indian society.

Read the complete article via: http://magazine.thediplomat.com/#/issues/-Kq0QJtC_OQiU3Dy0tQ6 

The Partition Museum, Amritsar

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The Partition Museum is an attempt to preserve the history and memories of 1947, that saw the creation of India and Pakistan and as a result the partition of Punjab and Bengal. Located in Amritsar the museum deals with mostly the effects of partition on Punjab rather Bengal. It is the initiative of Lady Kishwar Desai and The Arts and Cultural Heritage Trust, along with other organisations. The Partition Museum is in Amritsar’s Town Hall and located in the newly renovated area near Hall Bazaar. The renovation work is a delight in the hustle and bustle of the walled city of Amritsar. The surrounding area all carry remnants from the colonial period and ironically the museum itself is housed in the colonial Town Hall built in the 19th century.

The museum contains mainly pictures, a few artefacts and newspaper clippings from the independence period. It is spread across 3-4 rooms which use multimedia, visual and documentary sources to illustrate and memorialize the Partition. It is therefore a small exhibition and largely provides an overview of what happened.

I wish I could have connected better with the endeavours and intentions of the museum but it left me feeling empty and concerned with the lack of reflection. The museum unfortunately reflects the elite vision with which it was conceptualised. Having spent the last sixteen years working on the history of Partition, I realise that people still need to learn more about this period. But sadly, seventy years on we hardly have any empathy for the collective guilt that we all share in this legacy. The newspapers presented were from the Indian perspective, the horrors of violence were those perpetrated by Muslims against Hindus and Sikhs. Had we been on the other side of the Radcliffe Line, I imagine similar one-sided accounts would be shown of how Muslims were killed at the hands of Hindus and Sikhs. So, when do we move away from this communalized history of partition that still lingers on?

The pictures and voices shared were not of the ordinary people suffering but of prominent people and those who have come to “symbolise” partition history. This is certainly not a people’s history. Even the Tree of Hope presented me with little hope as it was covered in nationalistic and jingoistic slogans written by school children and visitors. Hardly giving secular India hope for the future. Instead the Tree of Hope just reinforces the new powerful and bullish India, unleashed by Modi’s vision.

My main concerns were with the well that has been installed in the museum. It is obviously designed to educate people but what sort of story is it trying to tell us? By simply stating that many women were forced to or rather martyred themselves by jumping into the wells is simplifying a very complex history. Women as the torch bearers of community honour were in some cases (we can hardly guess the numbers) forced to jump into wells by the patriarch of the family or community. Some went willingly but others were more reluctant; afraid of what was expected of them. We can most poignantly see this in the film Kamosh Pani. And so, to show this well in the middle of exhibition represents what exactly? If this was the original location, as in Jallianwala Bagh, it would make sense but to install it for effect is problematic. What kind of history and memory is being preserved by these acts to recreate history selectively? With little intellectual engagement with these selective symbolic fragments from our collective past we can only serve to re-enforce the communalised identities that led to 1947 in the first place.

Visit the website: http://www.partitionmuseum.org/