Those who thought that the horrors of 1947 would never be repeated were proven wrong in 1984
October 31,1984. Winter was setting in the Delhi. There was brilliant sunshine and life started moving at a rather leisure pace on that day. Auto revolution and economic reforms were still a couple of years away. The National Capital Region was still not required to ease the pressure of Delhi. Private news channels and their ‘breaking news’ cycles were still many years away. Then barely 19 years ols and a student of Delhi University's Hindu College, I was to meet a friend at lajpat Nagar. He was calling me for ages to have lunch together. At last, I was visiting his place. I took the DTC bus number 521 from Plaza, then at a shouting distance from my place. It was close to 10.30 am.
As the bus was moving towards Hotel Meridien, some co-passengers suddenly started talking about the attempt on the life of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. At the outset, nobody believed that this. It cannot happen with her. Still, my co-passengers prayed that if she faced an attempt on her life, she would survive the attack.
As the bus was moving to my destination, people were getting on and off at various bus stands. Those who were joining us, they too came with stories related to the attack on Gandhi. I got down at Mool Chand stand. By then, one could feel that all was not well. And as I was moving towards my friend's place, I found many groups of people talking about an attack on the Prime Minister. I too joined one of those groups to know more. And, once at my friend's place, he too shared his inputs relating to the same subject. I was with him till the evening. By that time, the shocked nation was told that Indira Gandhi had fallen to the bullets of her own guards.
The first reliable report of Gandhi's death was broadcast from Karachi, Pakistan, at around 1:30pm. On All India Radio regular broadcasts had been replaced by music. It was probably close to 6.30pm when I left my friend's place. I did not have a watch to confirm the time. And nobody had heard of mobile phones. As I was moving towards the bus stand, one could feel the uneasy mood in the air. At the bus stand, I got a bus for my return journey and it took me to the Kotla side on my way back to Plaza. At Kotla, I could see that something serious had taken place. Dark clouds were billowing in the air. Several timber shops were on fire. I never knew that some shady Congress goons were at work. Then what I saw from my bus at lodhi Road is something I will never forget. At Khanna Market, a mob of 150 people were beating two Sikhs with sticks. I believe that they could not have survived such an attack on them.
There were traffic jams everywhere. Congress marauders were prowling on the streets with sticks and fire arms — something we had never seen in our lives. The capital was in the grip of unprecedented violence. And near the National Archives building, the bus was suddenly stopped. It was not a bus stand.
Suddenly seven or maybe eight musclemen entered the bus. “Arre koi bus mein sardar hein” (Are there any Sikhs in the bus), they asked. We were trembling. Some braveheart among us somehow told them: “Koi sardar bus mein nahien hein” (there is no Sikh in the bus). They got down and our bus finally reached Connaught Place.
There was violence and looting everywhere. And it was amply clear that the Sikhs were facing the brunt of blood-thirsty mobs. In Connaught Place, the scenes both at Janpath and Regal, were rather scary, to say the least. SM Sons, the famous showroom for men's wear was on fire. It was owned by a Sikh gentleman. Selectively, shops and showrooms owned by Sikhs were being targetted. There was also looting of Sikh schools and the razing of Sikh homes and shops. The violence was worse than I had imagined.
Over the next few days, some 2,500 people died in Delhi alone. Thousands more died in other cities. The total death toll will never be known. The dead were Sikhs. Entire neighbourhoods were gutted; tens of thousands of people were left homeless. like many other members of my generation, I grew up listening to the stories of mass slaughter during the Partition of India in 1947. We thought that it would never be repeated. But we were proved wrong, as we witnessed such gory violence with our own eyes. Once the pogrom came to an end, teachers of Delhi University, Jawaharlal Nehru University, journalists, students and peace activists started working together to expose the blood-soaked hands of Congress leaders in perpetrating violence against their own people, and providing relief to the Sikh community.