'Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala' A Curse or a Blessing- A holy cow or a wild bull, Time for introspection for the Sikhs-1

 “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, and 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 the emotions of masses and simultaneously suit the persona of the "Santji".

Hindus of pre-Independence India gifted themselves a Mahatma who had embarked upon the mission of liberating Hindustanis from British slavery, and Sikhs of post-British India gifted themselves a Santji who embarked upon the holy war to liberate Sikhs from slavery in Hindustan. The Mahatma was used by the British to advance their own agenda and implement their own strategy; the outcome was an unprecedented bloodbath. Similarly, Santji rose to prominence through his quick wit and fiery speeches, stirring and inflaming public emotions. The ruling Congress exploited the situation, creating a killing field that culminated in yet another unprecedented bloodbath.

Although the Mahatma was a great apostle of non-violence and fully understood the consequences and dynamics of mob mentality, the ruling establishment still succeeded in employing divisive politics to achieve its objectives. The Mahatma was a Barrister-at-Law with considerable grassroots experience in mass mobilization. He understood the workings of the governance apparatus and the nature of state power. In contrast, the Sikh preacher of Damdami Taksal was far removed from such experiences and understanding of political and administrative dynamics—and the rest is history.

Was the rise of Damdami Taksal head Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala in Sikh politics, and the cycle of violence initiated by him and his followers, a curse or a blessing? 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?

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 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 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 developments further emboldened Bhindranwala, leading him to believe that he was invincible. During the period of Bhindranwala's custody, the 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 reach of the police.

The aftermath of the Indian Army's attack on the holiest Sikh shrine, the consequent damage to the Akal Takht, and the loss of innumerable innocent lives deeply shocked the conscience of Sikhs across the world. In response, people reacted according to their individual convictions, capacities, and understanding of the unfolding events.

History repeatedly demonstrates that, in moments of insecurity, communities become vulnerable to charismatic personalities who promise dignity, justice, and redemption. Such leaders often possess an extraordinary ability to mobilize emotions, inspire devotion, and transform public grievances into mass movements. Yet history also teaches that 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. Their success lay not in solving societal problems but in convincing followers that emotional confrontation was a substitute for institutional reform. Once a society enters that path, reasoned debate gives way to slogans, moderation is branded as weakness, and violence begins to appear acceptable in pursuit of supposedly noble objectives.

The Sikh community must confront this difficult historical question regarding Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala and the turbulent events of Punjab during the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Bhindranwala emerged as a powerful religious preacher at a time when many Sikhs felt politically marginalized and culturally insecure. His speeches resonated with sections of Sikh youth who were frustrated by corruption, political opportunism, and the failure of governments to address genuine grievances. 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.

However, inspiration and leadership are not the same thing. A religious preacher may be capable of mobilizing followers, but leading a complex political struggle requires a deep understanding of constitutional processes, state institutions, economics, diplomacy, and long-term strategy. There is little evidence that Bhindranwale possessed either the training or experience necessary to guide a political movement confronting one of the world's largest states.

The consequences were devastating. Punjab descended into an atmosphere of fear, polarization, communal hatred, and violence. Political disputes increasingly became matters of intimidation and force. The cycle of retaliation escalated. 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 and fear.

Ultimately, the violence consumed its own architects. Bhindranwala lost his life during the military action at the Golden Temple complex in June 1984. Thousands of innocent devotees also paid the heavy price. The subsequent anti-Sikh massacres of 1984 inflicted further trauma upon the Sikh community and remain one of independent India's darkest chapters. The decade that followed witnessed extensive bloodshed, human-rights violations, disappearances, and the destruction of countless families.

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. Sikh political influence diminished. 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.

Most importantly, the system that many sought to challenge remained intact.

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 therefore 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 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.