Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala: A Curse or a Blessing? A Holy Cow or a Wild Bull?
“Let us understand the past & prepare for the future.”
"ਕੂੜੁ ਨਿਖੁਟੇ ਨਾਨਕਾ, ਓੜਕਿ ਸਚਿ ਰਹੀ"
Although 42 years have passed from the fateful day when the Indian army was used to attack the holiest of Sikh Shrines, every year, the arrival of June is observed as a ritualistic month to glorify a Sant by the Sikh community. People keep creating stories as eye-witness accounts, and to me, it seems the community is going in circles, and culling out selective truths that may appeal to the emotions of the masses and simultaneously suit the persona of the "Santji".
So many distortions, exaggerations, and selective narratives have accumulated since 1984 that we must begin all over again. The present generation deserves an opportunity to understand how the tragedy unfolded. The story did not begin in June 1984; it began to take shape after Vaisakhi of 1978 with the rise of a new star on the Sikh horizon.
The Rise of a New Leader & The Issue of Legitimacy
Until April 13, 1978, Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala was largely unknown to the wider Sikh community. Outside the circle of his followers in the Damdami Taksal, few Sikhs had heard of him. Bhindranwala became the head of the Damdami Taksal during the Bhog ceremony of Sant Kartar Singh Khalsa on 25 August 1977 following the latter's death in a road accident. The Damdami Taksal itself was not widely known among the Sikh masses. Outside limited religious circles, few ordinary Sikhs were familiar with its name, role, or influence.
Every individual who aspires to establish himself as a community leader requires an issue around which he can mobilize public opinion. The first step is to identify a cause and then draw the attention of the wider community towards it. In the Indian subcontinent, one of the most popular themes employed by superficial and shortsighted leaders has been the invocation of an alleged threat to the very existence of a community or its religious identity. Once such a threat is projected, people are rallied around the cause, often through emotional rather than rational appeals.
Having assumed leadership of the Damdami Taksal, Bhindranwala identified the activities of the Nirankaris as the issue around which he would mobilize Sikh sentiment. The Nirankari Mission had already established a substantial following and maintained hundreds of centers across India and abroad. Their teachings drew references from the Guru Granth Sahib but differed from mainstream Sikh doctrine on one fundamental question: they believed that a living spiritual guide was necessary to assist followers in understanding religious teachings and applying them to everyday life.
Bhindranwala strongly opposed this concept. He maintained that the title of Guru belonged exclusively to the Ten Sikh Gurus and that no other individual could legitimately claim such authority. For him, the issue was not merely a theological disagreement; it became a struggle over religious legitimacy. As tensions grew, doctrinal disagreement gradually transformed into hostility. The Nirankari convention at Amritsar became a rallying point. Religious debate increasingly gave way to confrontation.
Bhindranwala possessed quick wit, a commanding presence, a sharp tongue, and an extraordinary ability to stir emotions through fiery speeches. His oratory electrified audiences, particularly the youth, at a time when many Sikhs felt politically marginalized, frustrated, alienated, and culturally insecure. His rise reflected not merely his personal appeal but also the vacuum created by ineffective political leadership and the manipulation of religious sentiments by competing political actors.
A Tale of Two Leaders: Mahatma and Santji
Hindus of pre-Independence India gifted themselves a Mahatma who had embarked upon the mission of liberating Hindustanis from British slavery through non-violence. In contrast, Sikhs of post-British India gifted themselves a Santji who embarked upon the holy war to liberate Sikhs from what he portrayed as slavery in Hindustan through organized violence.
The Mahatma was a Barrister-at-Law with considerable grassroots experience in mass mobilization, political struggle, and constitutional processes. He fully understood the consequences and dynamics of mob mentality, the workings of the governance apparatus, and the nature of state power. Even so, the British and the ruling establishment still succeeded in employing divisive politics to advance their own agendas and implement their own strategies, resulting in an unprecedented bloodbath.
The Sikh preacher of Damdami Taksal came from an entirely different background and was far removed from such experiences. He was a preacher rather than a statesman. While he possessed remarkable oratorical skills, he completely lacked a comparable understanding of political, administrative, constitutional, and economic dynamics—and the rest is history.
Was his transformation into the sole self-styled spokesperson of the Akalis' Dharamyudh Morcha, and his effective hijacking of that movement while portraying himself as the sole and all-powerful leader and arbitrator of the Sikh community, the product of a coherent political vision? Or was it merely an emotionally charged rhetorical instrument designed to invoke public sentiment and mobilize gullible Sikh masses?
The Intoxicating Nature of Power & The Reality of Records
The rise of Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala was also the story of a man who gradually discovered the extraordinary influence he could exercise over large numbers of people. History teaches that the most intoxicating substance known to mankind is not alcohol, opium, or any narcotic drug—it is power. The intoxication of power is unique because it affects not the body but the mind. It creates a sense of invincibility, convincing its victim that he possesses superior wisdom, superior judgment, and superior moral authority. Once bitten by the serpent of power, the poison spreads slowly. Reason gives way to arrogance, prudence yields to recklessness, and judgment becomes clouded by self-righteousness.
I know that many Sikhs, and some Hindus as well, never tire of portraying Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala as a peaceful preacher and repeatedly claim that there was never an FIR registered against him. The reality, however, is quite the opposite of this propaganda.
The fact of the matter is that Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala was instrumental in the killing of Lala Jagat Narain (the founder-editor of the Hind Samachar Group and a prominent critic of Bhindranwala) on 9 September 1981 through his own nephew, Swaran Singh, son of Jagir Singh of village Rode, along with Nacchatar Singh and Dalbir Singh, who acted as his bodyguards. Swaran Singh and Dalbir Singh were armed with .32-bore and .455-bore revolvers, while Nacchatar Singh drove the motorcycle. All this information shall be a matter of police records and part of the disclosure.
The arrest and subsequent release of Bhindranwala in connection with this murder investigation were not the outcome of professional police work, but rather the result of political manipulations by the state and central governments of the day. These political developments and accommodations far from diminished his stature; they enhanced it. Each confrontation increased his popularity, and each retreat by the authorities strengthened the perception that he stood above ordinary constraints.
These developments further emboldened Bhindranwala, leading him to believe that he was invincible. Critical examination gave way to loyalty, and the man increasingly became a symbol. Once a leader becomes a symbol, objective assessment becomes difficult; facts matter less than emotions, and narratives become more important than realities.
During the period of Bhindranwala's custody, the All India Sikh Students Federation (AISSF) had already begun a campaign of bombings and killings aimed at generating terror. Bhindranwala never condemned this violence. On the contrary, he encouraged it by preaching that anyone who joined his jatha would remain beyond the police's reach.
A Memory from 2014
One evening in 2014—though I no longer recall the exact date—I was gathering information from various sources for my book At War: Four Pillars of Falsehood & Public of Republic. As part of that research, I telephoned one of my former Directors General of the Border Security Force, Mr. Birbal Nath, an ex-IPS officer who had also served as the first Director General of Punjab Police during the early years of Punjab's most turbulent period, heading the force from 1980 to 1982.
At the time of my call, Mr. Nath must have been close to ninety years of age and had become hard of hearing. My call was answered by his orderly, who relayed my questions to him and his responses back to me. What struck me most was not the information he provided but something entirely unexpected: throughout our conversation, the retired Director General consistently referred to Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala as “Santji.” He used the term naturally, without hesitation or qualification.
Coming from a former head of Punjab Police who occupied one of the most critical positions in the state's security apparatus during those turbulent years—and under whose leadership Bhindranwala was arrested and later released—it offered a perspective I had neither anticipated nor encountered elsewhere. Twelve years later, that single word—“Santji”—returns to my mind as a testament to how deeply interwoven these narratives became.
The Descent into Violence: 1980–1984
Meanwhile, Punjab's political environment was undergoing rapid transformation. Rivalries between political parties, factional struggles, electoral calculations, militant activism, and administrative failures combined to create conditions in which increasingly radical voices gained prominence. The Dharam Yudh Morcha, originally conceived as a constitutional and political agitation, gradually became overshadowed by militant rhetoric and armed activism.
The tragedy did not emerge overnight; it unfolded one incident at a time, and violence became normalized long before the climax of June 1984.
24 April 1980 – Assassination of Baba Gurbachan Singh: The head of the Sant Nirankari Mission was shot dead at his residence in Delhi by Bhai Ranjit Singh and his associates, who were not followers of Bhindranwala, yet were later implicated in the assassination. However, Bhindranwala made a public statement that whenever he meets Bhai Ranjit Singh, he will “weigh him in gold.” Bhai Ranjit Singh had taken an independent decision to eliminate the Nirankari chief without any link to Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala, but the latter seemed keen to project the impression that he himself was instrumental in the act. He appeared unusually inclined to take credit for this assassination through his statements in public speeches, and law enforcement agencies took note of it and sought to obtain his custody, although the political manipulation thwarted it.
Late 1980 – Armed Bank Robberies Begin: A series of armed robberies targeting cooperative and nationalized banks began across rural Punjab. The proceeds were used to procure weapons, ammunition, transportation, and logistics.
9 September 1981 – Assassination of Lala Jagat Narain: The prominent journalist and critic was assassinated near Ludhiana, triggering one of the most consequential episodes in Punjab's modern history.
20 September 1981 – Arrest of Bhindranwala and Mehta Chowk Violence: Bhindranwala surrendered to police at Mehta Chowk. Violent clashes erupted between his supporters and security forces, resulting in multiple deaths and injuries, elevating his stature among supporters.
21 September 1981 – Jalandhar Market Shootings: Motorcycle-borne gunmen opened indiscriminate fire in Jalandhar, killing Hindu civilians and deepening communal tensions.
29 September 1981 – Hijacking of Indian Airlines Flight 423: Militants hijacked an Indian Airlines aircraft and diverted it to Lahore, demanding Bhindranwala's release and other concessions.
Punjab became trapped in an atmosphere of fear, polarization, communal hatred, and political paralysis. Moderate voices were drowned out by extremists. Political disputes increasingly became matters of intimidation and force. Innocent civilians, police personnel, public servants, journalists, political activists, and ordinary citizens became victims. Communities that had coexisted for generations found themselves divided by suspicion.
The Price and the Aftermath
Ultimately, the violence consumed its own architects. Bhindranwala lost his life during the military action at the Golden Temple complex in June 1984. The assault inflicted deep wounds upon Sikh religious consciousness, severely damaging the Akal Takht, and thousands of innocent devotees paid the ultimate price.
The retaliation escalated further with the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, followed by the anti-Sikh massacres of November 1984, which inflicted deep trauma upon the Sikh community and remain one of independent India's darkest chapters. The decade that followed witnessed extensive bloodshed, counterinsurgency operations, human rights violations, disappearances, and the destruction of countless families. Public confidence in institutions completely eroded.
The crucial question for the Sikh community is not whether Bhindranwala was sincere. Sincerity alone does not determine historical judgment. The real question is whether the path he championed advanced Sikh interests or damaged them.
Measured by outcomes, the record is sobering:
Punjab's economy suffered extensively.
Sikh political influence diminished significantly.
Thousands of Sikh youth lost their lives, liberty, or future opportunities.
The community emerged more divided than united.
The structural problems confronting ordinary citizens remained largely unresolved, while the very system many sought to challenge remained entirely intact.
Lessons for the Future: From Shrines to Structural Reform
History repeatedly demonstrates that, in moments of insecurity, communities become vulnerable to charismatic personalities who promise dignity, justice, and redemption. Yet charisma alone is not wisdom, and emotional mobilization is not a substitute for political vision. The twentieth century offers many examples of charismatic leaders whose appeal ultimately brought disaster upon the very people they claimed to represent because they convinced followers that emotional confrontation was a substitute for institutional reform.
The true challenge facing Sikhs—and indeed all citizens of India—is not the memory of one individual but the continuation of a governance structure inherited from colonial rule. The British Raj created institutions designed primarily for control rather than citizen empowerment. After independence, many of these structures survived with only limited reform. The concentration of power, bureaucratic opacity, weak local accountability, and excessive dependence on centralized authority continue to affect citizens irrespective of religion, caste, or region.
If Sikhs genuinely seek justice, dignity, and self-respect, their struggle should focus not on romanticizing past confrontations but on building democratic institutions capable of protecting liberty and accountability for all. The future does not belong to those who glorify martyrdom alone. It belongs to those who understand governance, law, economics, education, and democratic participation. Communities progress when they produce scholars, reformers, entrepreneurs, jurists, educators, and public intellectuals who can challenge unjust systems through knowledge and organization rather than emotional mobilization alone.
The Sikh tradition itself provides this lesson. The Gurus combined spiritual wisdom with social reform, institution-building, community service, and ethical governance. Their legacy was not merely resistance to injustice but the creation of alternative institutions rooted in human dignity and collective responsibility.
The challenge before the Sikh community today is therefore not whether to worship or condemn Bhindranwala. The challenge is to learn from history. Communities that transform historical figures into unquestionable icons often become prisoners of the past. Communities that critically examine their history acquire the wisdom necessary to shape the future.
The greatest tribute to the victims of Punjab's tragedy is not the preservation of old divisions but the determination to ensure that future generations never repeat the same mistakes. The Sikh community must move beyond personalities and focus on principles; beyond emotion and toward understanding; beyond symbolic battles and toward institutional reform. Only then can it contribute meaningfully to the larger struggle for a democratic society in which power truly belongs to the people—"Power to People"—through dialogue, rather than to political elites, bureaucratic establishments, or inherited colonial structures.
History should not be a shrine. It should be a teacher. The purpose of remembering the past is not to relive it, but to learn from it and build a better future.