We were brought up in an atmosphere of ‘benevolent despotism’ and fed on the idea of British Imperialism being something quite different from other isms of the same character. Our disillusionment began some 20 years ago; but it required an O’Dwyer and a Dyer and a Jallianwala Bagh to complete the process. Coming so soon after the Great War, which was fought ostensibly to destroy Imperialism and Militarism, the Punjab tragedy has cleared the atmosphere which enveloped the war aims of the Allies and shown the brute in its naked form. The Indians are today cursing Sir Michael O’Dwyer, General Dyer, and others; but in my humble judgement, it is the system which needs cursing, if that can give satisfaction to the aggrieved. The men are the mere tools of circumstances. They may overdo a thing, but so long as they are told that the maintenance of the system is the main thing and has to be done at any cost, their fault is only secondary. If the administration of Sir Michael O’Dwyer and the Punjab tragedy enacted by him awakens the Indians to a sense of their duty in the matter, the blood of hundreds (including children) who died at Jallianwala Bagh, Gujranwala, Lahore and other places, would not have been spilled in vain. The blood of the innocents calls not for vengeance, but the putting forth of every iota of our energy to get rid of the bureaucratic system of Government, under which we have lived for the last 70 years or so.
. . .A year ago, I had some kind of confidence in Mr Montagu’s statesmanship; and I was under the impression that when full facts are known to him, he would not fail to heal up the wounds inflicted on the Punjab by Sir Michael O’Dwyer and his lieutenants. I had no hope in the Government of India, I had no hope in the British Cabinet; but I had some little hope in Mr Montagu, which has been completely shattered by the orders he has passed on the Hunter Committee’s Report. The Government of India has failed us, as it was bound to, because it was practically a party to the whole series of oppressive measures which led to the disturbances and subsequent introduction of martial law. The Government of India being one of the guilty parties, they could not be expected to pronounce an adverse judgement on themselves. The Secretary of State has also deserted us. Our only hope lies in ourselves. The duty is two fold: first, to leave nothing undone to bring the true facts to the knowledge of the civilised world as extensively as our resources would permit; and secondly, to think out and put into practice plan of action which would impress upon the Government the fact that we are not prepared to tolerate similar outrages upon our honour and liberty. The Government must know that these methods of governing India are dead: and unless the ruling caste is ready to accept the change in the situation, the task of governing India would be extremely difficult and full of perils and pitfalls. Whether we shall inaugurate a campaign of non cooperation or passive resistance or what, I cannot say yet. . .But this much I might be permitted to say my educated countrymen, that the question whether they will be treated in the future as men or as beasts of burden depends in large measure on their own conduct and behaviour. It is for them to decide whether they are ready to sacrifice their individual preferments for the honour of the nation, or whether they will choose to be satisfied with the few crumbs that are thrown to them from the master’s table and go to sleep again. Let us never forget that ‘nations by themselves are made.’
Lahore
5 June, 1920
LAJPAT RAI
* * *
From the ‘Foreword’ by Lala Lajpat Rai in An Imaginary Rebellion and How It Was Suppressed: An Account of the Punjab Disorders and the Working of Martial Law by Pandit Pearay Mohan, published in Lahore in 1920 by Khosla Bros.
Appendix II
Rabindranath Tagore’s Protest
The following letter was sent by Sir Rabindranath Tagore to his Excellency the Viceroy on 31 May 1919, asking to be ‘released’ of his title of Knighthood, following the atrocities in Punjab.
Your Excellency,
The enormity of the measures taken by the Government in the Punjab for quelling some local disturbances has, with a rude shock, revealed to our minds the helplessness of our position as British subjects in India. The disproportionate severity of the punishment inflicted upon the unfortunate people and the methods of carrying them out, we are convinced are without parallel in the history of civilised Governments, barring some conspicuous exceptions, recent and remote. Considering that such treatment has been meted out to a population disarmed and resourceless by a power which has the most terribly efficient organisation for destruction of human lives, we must strongly assert that it can claim no political expediency, far less moral justification. The accounts of insults and sufferings undergone by our brothers in the Punjab have trickled through the gagged silence, reaching every corner of India, and the universal agony of indignation roused in the hearts of our people has been ignored by our rulers—possibly congratulating themselves for imparting what they imagine as statutory lessons. This callousness has been praised by most of the Anglo-Indian papers, which have in some cases gone to the brutal length of making fun of our sufferings, without receiving the least check from the same authority, relentlessly careful in smothering every cry of pain and expression of judgement from the organs representing the sufferers. Knowing that our appeals have been in vain and that the passion of vengeance is blinding the noble vision of statesmanship in our Government, which could so easily afford to be magnanimous as befitting its physical strength and moral tradition, the very least that I can do for my country is to take all consequences upon myself in giving voice to the protest of the millions of my countrymen, surprised into a dumb anguish of terror. The time has come when badges of honour make our shame glaring in their incongruous context of humiliation, and I for my part wish to stand shorn of all special distinctions, by the side of those of my countrymen who, for their so called insignificance, are liable to suffer degradation not fit for human beings. And these are the reasons which have painfully compelled me to ask Your Excellency, with due deference and regret, to release me of my title of knighthood which I had the honour to accept from His Majesty the King at the hands of your predecessor, for whose nobleness of heart I still entertain great admiration.
Yours faithfully
Rabindranath Tagore
Acknowledgements
My heartfelt gratitude towards the young and very hardworking team of the Partition Museum at Town Hall, Amritsar, especially Mallika Ahluwalia, Ganeev Dhillon, Tara Sami Dutt, Shivani Gandhi, and most especially Saudip Ray, who helped me with the research, as the story turned out to be much bigger than we had thought. The idea emerged when I stumbled upon some photographs which were dated ‘1919’, while we were setting up the museum. The research led further and further, till the book got written. Meghnad Desai, loving, long-suffering and supportive as always, helped me access books and material, and I thank him for being my first reader. I also thank the UK Parliamentary Library and Archives for helping me access hundred-year-old Parliamentary debates and records.
I thank my publisher, Karthika V.K., for taking on this book on the strength of a proposal. I especially want to thank my parents, Padam and Rajini Rosha, for their patience: I have been physically present, but my mind has been completely preoccupied with the writing. I also thank my son Gaurav Ahluwalia and daughter-in-law Priyanka Kandula for bearing with my long and sudden silences.
I would also like to thank Radhika Mukherjee for her careful editing, as well as Shrutika Mathur, Janani Ganesan and Shweta Bhagat for their support and suggestions.
This has not been an easy book to write for many reasons, but it is one that completely absorbed me, and continues to do so because of those long-gone victims and survivors whose memories make up this book. I thank them for the enormous sacrifices they made in the belief that there would be a better tomorrow.
A view of Jallianwala Bagh from the eastern side, 1919.
People pointing at bullet marks at Jallianwala Bagh, 1919.
The street through which General Dyer approached Jallianwala Bagh.
Thirteen-year-old Madan Mohan, shot and killed at
Jallianwala Bagh.
Sardari Lal, whose left arm had to be amputated on account of injuries from the bombing at Gujranwala.
Uttam Chand, wounded at Jallianwala Bagh.
An eleven-year-old boy in Kasur, charged with waging war against the King.
Sunder Singh, wounded in the left eye at Jallianwala Bagh.
Arrests in Amritsar under martial law, 1919.
The crawling order being executed, Amritsar, 1919. This photograph was probably taken by a British soldier posted there.
Dr Satya Pal, B.A., M.B., Amritsar.
Dr Saifuddin Kitchlew, B.A., Ph.D., Barrister-at-Law, Amritsar.
Brigadier General R.E.H. Dyer.
Sir Michael O’Dwyer.
S. Udham Singh, who killed Sir Michael O’Dwyer more than twenty years after the incident.
Jallianwala Bagh, 1919 Page 25