Sixty-two-year-old Dr Nath was also asked by Sardar Sukha Singh to name those who had attacked Mrs Easdon. When he refused, he was told by Plomer, Marshall and Sukha Singh that he would be arrested. The doctor replied he had not seen anyone and they could do what they liked. He was then arrested on 20 April and kept in confinement till 27 April, after which he was shifted to the subsidiary jail. He had to walk through the bazaar in the heat for about a mile, along with sixty-two other prisoners. He was kept without proper food or even a change of clothes (which he had asked for, from his home).
‘On the 2nd May, the Deputy Commissioner went to the jail and the doctor asked him why he was being detained. The answer was there was nothing against him except that he had not tried to save the life of Mrs Easdon, when she was attacked by the mob. The doctor tried to reason that it was not possible for him to do so, because he did not know when the mob went to her but it was of no avail. He and his assistant were, however, released on the 12th of May, without knowing any definite charges against him.’35
Among the worst cases of torture was that of Gholam Jilani, an Imam and deed writer, who was arrested just three days after the massacre, on 16 April. According to the INC Report, Jilani had a ‘prominent part’ in organising the Ram Naumi festival; this was where Hindus and Muslims had shown their unity.36 Mohammad Shafi ‘saw some of the tortures that Gholam Jilani was subjected to and heard his piteous cries.’37 Others such as Gholam Mohammad witnessed the torture on him and on Khair Din, who died a few days later of the injuries inflicted upon him. Haji Shamsuddin, landlord and zimindar (sic), also witnessed the torture. ‘They drove a stick into his anus. Also he was in a most pitiable condition. I saw his urine and excreta coming out. All of us, who were outside were told by the police that those, who did not give evidence, would be treated like that.’ The torture and threats did in some cases have a domino effect, as more and more innocent people were brought into the net, falsely accused. Gholam Jilani, as he was being tortured, was forced to implicate at least one more person, Badrul Islam Ali Khan.
According to the INC report, the barrister Badrul Islam Ali Khan ‘was arrested on 19 April. The police walked into his wife’s bedroom and when she asked them to leave, they refused to do so. He was taken to the Kotwali and Mr Plomer said in a loud voice, “This is the man who wants to be the Lieutenant Governor of the Punjab.”’38 He told the Congress Sub-Committee that he was pressed to give evidence. He described the condition of the cell in which he and his fellow prisoners were locked up, how they were subjected to severe humiliation, and discussed the charges that were brought against him before he was finally discharged. He concluded that ‘there was an attempt by the police to manufacture evidence against me, by torturing a man named Gholam Jilani, who admitted the fact in his evidence before the Martial Law commission, in the course of my trial. Thus it was that I was arrested and kept in custody for a period of about a month and half and tried for my life.’
Arrests like his became an ongoing farce and tragedy as more and more people were forced into false admissions, leading to further illegal and motivated arrests. However, there was still no way to escape, as all the city gates were guarded. Martial law was in place and specially signed passes were required to exit or enter the walled city.
Apart from trying to nab those they considered to be the instigators of the riots on 10 April, the police (as directed by the administration and Dyer) were mainly looking for confessions that would indict Kitchlew and Satya Pal. It was their incarceration that had let to the riots of 10 April.
Seth Gul Mohammad, a glassware merchant, was arrested on 20 April while he was offering prayers and taken to the Kotwali. He was asked to give false evidence. Police Inspector Jowaharlal caught hold of his beard and slapped him so hard that it made him reel. He then asked him (Mohammad) to say that ‘Doctors Satyapal and Kitchlew had instigated me to bring about the hartal on the 6th and they had encouraged me, by saying they would use bombs to drive out the English from the country.’ 39 The witness refused. The officer then asked his underlings to take him aside and make him ‘alright’. He was taken a few paces away from the officers’ table and asked by a number of constables to please Inspector Jowaharlal by doing what he wanted. He still refused. So they caught hold of his hand, placed it under a cot, over which eight constables sat. ‘When the pain became unbearable,’ the witness said, ‘I cried out, leave my hand, I will do whatever you ask me to do.’ He was then taken to Jowaharlal again. But again he refused to implicate the doctors. He was kept confined in a room that day. The following two days, he was beaten, slapped and caned. He was told that he would be made an accused and hanged. The beating went on for eight days. On the eighth day, he again agreed to make the desired statement. He was then taken to Aga Ibrahim, the Magistrate, before whom he repeated the same ‘untrue statement’ that was required of him. Hans Raj, the approver, who was also in the Kotwali, asked him to do as the police asked. After ten days’ detention, he was let off, on the condition that he appear at the Kotwali from day to day, which he did, up to 9 June, when he was taken to Lahore. On 16 June, he was produced before the Martial Law Tribunal, where he made a clean breast of the whole thing and told the judges that he was tortured.’40 He had been in police custody for approximately 56 days—without any valid reason, apart from the false statement demanded from him.
Many of those who were dragged to the Kotwali in Amritsar had survived the firing on 10 April and the massacre three days later. A number of them had already lost their friends and family members, and were being forced to betray other members of the community. The helplessness they experienced needs to be understood, as well as the rifts these forced confessions would have caused. The walled city had a close-knit life, which was now being ripped apart systematically. Those who had worked towards Hindu-Muslim unity, such as Gholam Jilani, now became special targets, and as their spirit was broken, seeds of suspicion were sown. These would come to fruition in the next few decades when even those like Kitchlew, a Muslim who strove for communal harmony, would be forced to abandon Amritsar, the city he loved, during the Partition of India in 1947.
Not only did Dyer wish to extinguish the spirit of unity through his soldiers, there was enthusiastic participation from the police as well. Even after martial law was imposed—we read in these 100-year-old testimonies—Irving would drop by and encourage the incarcerations and torture. The army and the police came closer than ever with a dual purpose: to break the so-called rebellion, and to smash Hindu-Muslim unity forever. (This policy was also being nurtured in other parts of Punjab, often with ominous outcomes, as we will see in subsequent chapters.)
Perhaps this was all done in an attempt to prove that there was a larger conspiracy and that Kitchlew and Satya Pal were actually harbouring plans to overthrow the British (which was a far cry from the satyagraha that Gandhi had asked them to organise). The problem of course was that when the accused or witnesses appeared before the Martial Law Tribunal, they had no legal recourse, and were often produced forty or fifty at a time, making it difficult for most to argue their case. Meanwhile, arrests were taking place on a daily basis, and people had to constantly face fresh rounds of specially invented, humiliating punishments.
Irving put up notices in Amritsar during the week following the massacre on 13 April; he said the government was ‘sorry’ that some innocent persons had been forced by ‘wicked people’ to go to Jallianwala Bagh and ‘get killed’, but that warnings had been given beforehand. He also made it clear that obedience to the order of the ‘General sahib’ was obligatory, and that the ‘General sahib’ would not, in future, put up with any kind of unrest.41
For ‘General sahib’, that is Dyer, this was a high point in his career. For once he was completely in charge, and had been given free rein by all concerned. Considering the repressive measures he had already unleashed, word would spread that he was prepared and allowed to go to any extreme. Within a short time, other army officers had taken their cue from him
and the regime of terror spread beyond Amritsar.
NOTICE
Ignorant and wicked people have circulated false rumours and it is the intention of the government that no such false rumours should get circulated. It is desirable that information regarding all such ridiculous news be at once communicated to the Deputy Commissioner so that he may be able to contradict false news and promulgate the correct news.
The real facts regarding the incident that took place on Sunday in the city of Amritsar are as follows—
The General Sahib had issued a proclamation that no gathering should assemble without his permission, no meeting be held and no procession take place. The General Sahib and myself went in person to the city and warned the residents of the city by beat of drum that in case any mob was held it would, if necessary, be dispersed by means of bullets. Disregarding this order of the General Sahib, some ill wishers of the Government arranged for the meeting by false pretences and gave out that a Diwan will be held there. But the people were not informed that there was danger in going there.
About 5 pm the General sahib, with about 50 Indian troops, went to the spot. There was no European soldier with him. Seeing the soldiers the people showed an attitude of defiance. On this the order to shoot was given with the result that many were wounded and many killed.
The government is sorry that some innocent persons were forced by wicked people to go there and got killed. But everyone should bear in mind that obedience to the order of the General sahib is obligatory and that the General sahib will not, in future, put up with any kind of unrest.
Dated 18th April, 1919 (Sd) Miles Irving
Deputy Commissioner
Amritsar District42
Despite this, all kinds of rumours persisted and the distance between the colonisers and the subjects continued to grow. There were even rumours that the bullets which had been fired on 13 April were poisoned, as the heat had caused the bullet wounds to expand.43
While the people feared more reprisals, government spies fed into the British insecurity that people would unite and the unrest would continue—as indeed it did, in other places like Gujranwala. But the larger expectation of the British was that the massacre would send a ‘moral’ message and people would not rise or rebel anymore, if they continued to be repressed.
The already terrorised, unarmed population had no intention of continuing the satyagraha so soon after the massacre. Most of the men who were active in the agitation had been either killed or wounded. Those who survived were now being demeaned or demonised. O’Dwyer never had much respect for them, in any case, as the city dwellers rarely enrolled in the army. The irony was that he had wiped out most of the young men in the villages by making them enrol in the army, and now he had managed to do the same in the city. In such a situation, it is not surprising that some chose to become collaborators.
In Amritsar, which had been a thriving city of traders, lawyers, doctors and other professionals, the massacre did not just create fear. It turned it into a city of widows and the wounded. There were fatherless children and far too many families without any source of income. We know from the sheer numbers of the dead and wounded that at least 2,000 young and old males must have been impacted, which meant that perhaps 10,000 or more family members were left devastated and in grief. Those impacted under martial law would have been at least another 2,000 in Amritsar alone, impacting approximately 10,000 more. The Congress team recording the evidence spoke to at least 1,700 witnesses in Punjab, out of which around 175 had been either personally impacted or were witnesses to the massacre. Not only did this change the demographics of the city, it was also to have a long lasting impact on Amritsar, changing it from an independently advancing city to a dependent economy. Many of the traders who had settled in Amritsar no longer felt secure. Of the 1,60,000 people living there 100 years ago, we can assume that at least 50,000, if not more, would have directly felt the weight of British racism.
Prior to the massacre, the riots, the death of the five Europeans and the burning of the banks would have made Europeans reconsider investing in the city. O’Dwyer’s policy of repression would have itself caused further damage, reducing Amritsar to a shell of its former self. He also wrecked the possibility of Hindus and Muslims joining hands by encouraging betrayals and collaborations.
At this time, as the city continued to be isolated, with no news from the outside world, and with curfew imposed rigorously, Gandhi and the satyagraha became a distant dream. Now there was only hope of somehow surviving what O’Dwyer had called a ‘holocaust’.
Dyer himself was apparently very pleased with the effect that the massacre had on the people, as was evident during his cross-examination. He was asked by Pandit Jagat Narayan:
Q: You have told us that on the 13th the city was a model of law and order?
A: It was all quiet when I went round. After the shooting it soon became a model of law and order.44
Even if it was a model of law and order, martial law remained in place.
Some parts of the population of Amritsar were specially targeted—especially the lawyers—as they had been the ones at the forefront of the satyagraha. Once again, in an attempt to humiliate them, especially as the courts were not functioning, they were appointed as ‘special constables’. Even though Dyer said they did useful service and Kitchin said the lawyers liked being downgraded to ‘special constables’ (which meant that this order definitely was approved by O’Dwyer), the lawyers themselves, 93 in all, were aghast and humiliated. They were forced to salaam, lift tables and chairs even when ‘orderlies’ or servants were available to do the lifting.45
The INC Report contains the evidence of Lala Kanhya Lal, in whose name the meeting at Jallianwala Bagh had been called. He was the oldest lawyer in the city, but he too was given the rank of a ‘special constable’. He said, ‘. . . along with all the members of the local bar, I was compelled to act as a special constable. This appointment was made on the 22nd of April, when there was absolutely no necessity for such an appointment, for the maintenance of peace and order in the city. The police force was quite sufficient for the purpose, and, as a matter of fact, the city was quiet on those days. In my old age, I was made to work like a coolie, carrying tables and chairs from one place to another, and to patrol the city in the hot sun. The abuse, which was showered upon us, and the indignities to which we were put, added a great deal to our sufferings. I cannot believe that our appointment was necessary for the maintenance of peace and order. The order was meant to punish us. The local Bar takes part in public affairs and took a prominent part in the anti-Rowlatt Act agitation, that is why the whole Bar was punished in this way.’46
This ‘demotion’ as it were, from their professions as lawyers, would not have gone unnoticed and would have harmed their dignity and standing in the eyes of their fellow citizens. They could be summoned at the whim of the administration, even to watch floggings, and were themselves threatened with arrest or whipping. This reduced even the respectable residents of Amritsar—even those who had gone abroad and obtained degrees from European universities and learnt their law there, and who had previously dealt with the British on equal terms—to the level of slaves. They had to obey every order on pain of death.
Lala Balmokand Bhatia, who was not just a High Court vakil, but also a Municipal Commissioner, gave evidence about the ‘ceremony’ of appointing special constables. After they were made to sit on the ground, ‘it was then that we were called upon to witness (two) citizens being flogged after being tied to the post. We were specially ordered to see this scene. In the evening, all the members of the bar were made to stand in line.’ Lieutenant Newman was placed in charge. He threatened one of them with a kicking. They were to report in thrice a day and patrol the city for the rest of the day.
‘In other words,’ Mr Bhatia says, ‘we had to keep ourselves in attendance, the whole day, either in the (Ram Bagh) garden or in the city. We were constantly reminded that we were mere constables and the punishme
nt for any neglect was not only flogging or imprisonment, but also death.’ They were finally discharged on 12 May, after almost twenty days.47
All those connected in any way with the anti-Rowlatt Act movement, or with the Congress Party, were specially selected for punishment. Lala Girdhari Lal pointed out in his evidence quoted in the INC Report that ‘the police began to arrest people from 12th April, as far as I remember. There was no respite after that, and people from every sphere of life were arrested from day to day while employed peacefully in their occupations. No charge was stated.’ They were then ‘handcuffed at once and put into the lock up, for days and months, without being informed what they were accused of. . .’
While the residents of Amritsar were trapped, flogged, demeaned, arrested and tortured at whim, other cities and small towns of Punjab were also suffering.
For several years during Lieutenant Governor O’Dwyer’s regime, it had been felt that Punjab was in a state of unrest, some of it led by the advocates of the Ghadr Movement, which was based in the US. O’Dwyer had been tracking the return of these apparently foreign-trained revolutionaries and according to his memoirs, India As I Knew It, he had managed to persuade ‘leading Sikhs’ while in a conference with the commissioners and deputy commissioners that this movement would bring them ‘discredit’.48 He also added helpfully, ‘I put the situation very frankly before them—it is only our latter-day politicians who think that candour is not appreciated by Orientals—and told them the Government was strong enough to crush the Ghadr rebellion by its own resources, but that this could be done more promptly and with less bloodshed if I had the hearty co-operation of the Sikhs themselves.’
Jallianwala Bagh, 1919 Page 14