Halloween, 1984 – an update

It's been ten years since I wrote about what it was like to be in India on the day Indira Gandhi was assassinated. What took place on Halloween 34 years ago still remains a Specter that haunts. It's the specter of memory.

Let's neutralize this ghost with knowledge. Read this book: Amritsar: Indira Gandhi's Last Battle by Mark Tully and Satish Jacob. Because for me, things became a lot more clear.

For one, it fully confirmed that the Dal Khalsa leaders were housed both at Nanak Niwas and Guru Ram Das Niwas at the very same time we were there. Which was the winter of 1982-83 and the winter 1983-84 (when we were mostly in Anandpur Sahib, Damdama Sahib and Fatehgursahib, but made trips to Amritsar on occasion). This must be why I remember seeing men with guns. By the time we were at school in Mussoorie, Bindranwale–along with his people and a massive caché of weapons–moved their HQ from the Niwas to the 3rd floor of the Akal Takht. By the spring of 84, Amritsar had erupted in unchecked violence–much of it at the hands of Bindranwale–and culminating in the disastrous Operation Blue Star. As fall approached, revenge plans were solidified and Indira Gandhi lost her life. And we were up in the mountains, wondering if the riots and war that had broken out would reach our school. We weren't told much. Just to put our shoes and sweaters by our beds in case we had to be evacuated.

I have always wanted to to know more. I have always wanted to connect the dots between what we experienced as young children, and what was actually going on in India at the time. Well this book makes the horror clearer than I have ever known.

And the violence and aftermath at this time was indeed beyond horrific, but the book does not make it propagandistic. It does a good job of providing thorough political, religious and geographical coverage. And Tully and Jacob are equally thorough in outlining the arrangement of the Golden Temple complex–which includes the surrounding hostels–allowing us to appreciate the sense of time and place as we follow the various paths of people and activities that took place during this time.

But, what else can it do?

The book underscores the seriousness of the situation. So for me, it tells me that our parents were woefully misled and therefore woefully ill-prepared to deal with any situation that might have been on this level of violence and catastrophe. It tells me that our parents were given license to downplay, or even rationalize this period of political upheaval. So by the time Ms. Gandhi was assassinated, they were primed and ready to ignore its gravitas. I actually have an old VHS tape in which my father is literally doing just this: distancing, excusing, rationalizing and downplaying. Remind me to transfer it to a digital copy.

No one in their rational mind would send children alone into a war zone. No one. So why did our parents do it? 

One, they had already been conditioned to ignore and suppress their parental instincts. That physical and emotional bond between child and parent had been deprived time and again–through all the camps, family child swapping, and finally boarding school. It's the precipitous journey of a mind being exerted upon through acts of coercion.

***

I remember the winter of 1983/84. My mother came to India to be a winter break guide for all the little girls. At the end, she took the three of us girls to Amritsar for a week before she was to head back home. We stayed in a room in Nanak Niwas. It was delightful and wonderful. We prayed at the Golden Temple, we ate Langar everyday and our dear Mataji bought each of us a special gift: a harmonium for my older sister, a harp for me, and sword for my little sister. Photos of the trip are happy and cheerful. Sometimes I think: If they wanted us to learn Sikhi, couldn't we have just done it this way? Smaller, more intimate vacations to Amritsar with our parents? 

I also remember the day she left. She was kneeling down toward us and she began to cry. She told us she loved us, and she told us that she would write to us every week (which she always did). Then, we parted ways, and the joy and fun came to an abrupt halt. Our toys were confiscated right away. That special gift from my beautiful and loving Mataji was stolen from me the moment she was out of sight.

When I reflect on the tears in my Mataji's eyes that day, I think about her feelings too, and it's just heartbreaking. Her pain must have been very real. The pain of separation–even if someone was thinking they were doing the right thing–is still very real. It's real, it's horrible, and it's unconscionable.





Thanks for reading. You can hit me up on Twitter if you have comments or questions.

My original post "Halloween, 1984" is here. In it I refer to the Khalistan Separatist Movement, which is more or less synonymous with Dal Khalsa. But please note that there are complexities to all these designations, and it's better to just do the research.

Amritsar c. 1983

Yogi Bhajan, Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale, Nanak Dev Singh, a 3HO child who looks to be no older than ten years, another 3HO child probably a teen, and a 3HO woman.

I can't even begin to make sense of this scene. Can you? Do you have first-hand knowledge of it? Let me know in the comments section below.

The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword

Firearms training, and exposure to firearms were normal growing up in 3HO Sikh Dharma. My parents owned two or three handguns and a rifle. Even as a young child I knew where they were stored – inside their bedroom closet, loaded, and inside a padded, brown leather holster. Yogi Bhajan had a 24-7 cadre of armed security guards that were always within arms reach of him.  These guards were mostly men, albeit some very young and inexperienced "men", and there was one woman, named Shanti. These guards openly declared that they were willing to give their lives to ensure his safety.

Every summer the young children (as young as four or five years) lived in tents at Ram Das Puri for 8 weeks of children's camp. Our mothers were "down the hill", undergoing a different kind of indoctrination, a militarized retreat called Khalsa Women's Training Camp. Handgun and Rifle target practice, however, occurred at about 1000 yards' distance from our children's camp. Women from KWTC rode up in orange school-busses. When us children saw the busses arrive we were excited and happy, thinking 'maybe this is when I'll get to see my Mataji, and she'll hug me, kiss me, and maybe she'll even take me home with her'. Alas, the bus never stopped. It drove past us with moms waving, and cheering us, while we cried and begged for it to stop. And while they didn't appear pained, us children were injured by their deliberate show of "detachment".


The ladies of KWTC demonstrating their drill routines, c. 1984

KWTC target practice did not come without its glitches. One of those was fatal, in which a man, who was there to assist KWTC women, was the unfortunate victim of a firearm backfire. The bullet exited the rear of the chamber, entered his neck, hit his carotid artery, and, being 8 miles up a dirt road from the hospital, he bled out and perished. He left behind a two-year old son, a boy of my generation.

Although this man was skilled in the use of firearms, there is no predicting when a tool like this will malfunction. And although we were raised with a certain "respect" for the instrument, we began our own firearms training between the ages of 12 and 16. I shot my first handgun, a Glock 9mm, when I was 15.

But how did this group morally justify the use of weapons of this nature? As converts to the Sikh faith, they had adopted the practice of carrying the Kirpan, a harmless little steel dagger. Even so, how does one make the leap from the Kirpan to a 45-caliber semi-automatic handgun?

Yogi Bhajan, the sole authority of 3HO Sikh Dharma, was playing all sides in the ongoing crisis between the Akali Dal, the Indian Government, and the sikh separatist Khalistan movement led by Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale. At the same time, one of his inner circle devotees was attempting to acquire a large supply of major weapons. He was also possessed by a personal desire for power and wealth, so employed a common strategy in cults: the doomsday scenario. He painted this doomsday scenario to be the transition from the Astrological Piscean Age to the next Astrological age, the Aquarian Age. In this transition, which could last several centuries, would be great suffering and strife. He said, "Most people will be crazy. You must master my meditation techniques that will uplift you from the ensuing insanity. But you must also be prapared. You are Warrior-Saints". A convenient message to the 3HO members – piety without backing down. So they meditated whilst militarizing themselves. They practiced yoga and they practiced shooting guns–at Ram Das Puri, our privately owned, hilltop children's camp-slash-yoga festival-slash-firing range.

Contrarily, contemporary Indian Sikhs are generally not inclined to militancy. My Sikh classmates at GNFC were not even remotely militant. They came from upper middle class Punjab backgrounds that, for the most part, chose Guru Nanak, the pacifist, as their Patron Saint. And at the same time they, like us, were schooled in the history of militancy in Sikhism from the time of Guru Hargobind (1595-1694) to Guru Gobind Singh (1666-1708), Maharaja Ranjit Singh, etc etc, but while Indian Sikh children are educated, we were indoctrinated, and made to learn and adopt the martial arts and dress of the Nihang sect, a small, male-only class of orthodox and martially inclined Sikhs.

  

  

 

Portraits of 2nd generation 3HO sikh boys in full Nihang regalia.

Historically, from the 17th Century to World War II, Sikhs have enjoyed the warrior class status among the changing and evolving structures of India – from the Majarajas, and the Moghul Empire, to fighting alongside, and then against the British Raj. The history of Sikhs (militant or not) in Punjab and in India is fascinating, and deserves broad, mainstream exposure–if only to serve as a meter for all the complexities of modern Indian history. The most alarming chapter, however, took place while I was in India – the rise of the Sikh separatist movement, and the subsequent Operation Blue Star*, which ended in the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by her Sikh bodyguards, followed by anti-Sikh rioting, war, and mass bloodshed, and ending in 1989. Thousands of innocent people were massacred as a result of the clash between Indian government and a few self-righteous, agenda-driven ideologues.

***

Notwithstanding, there's no logical conclusion to make regarding any connection of traditional Sikhism, and it's proud military history to Western Anglo Sikh converts and handgun ownership. Perhaps it's an ideology that conveniently fits with a self-serving and paranoid "all-American" desire to exercise their 2nd Amendment Right to the fullest, and their fervent attachment to a paternalistic figure like a cult leader.

When I was eighteen I made a resolution to never own or even touch a handgun. A friend carried his Colt 45 with him to a party and left it in my car. As I was coming down from LSD, I held the gun in my hand and experienced a chilling and gripping feeling that this was nothing but an instrument of death. Not protection, not self-defense. Death. Hate. Fear. Paranoia. Destruction. I wanted no part of it.

I am grateful for LSD for providing me with this outside intervention. The substance itself became a catalyst for open-mindedness and my eventual path toward tolerance and acceptance. Through this I not only experienced the feeling of turning away from militancy for good, but toward using my creativity and intellect as a force far more effective than any weapon could offer. Then and there I knew I was better than the gun-toters.

My heart goes out to the Sikhs in Wisconsin. You might think this white lady doesn't know you, but I do. Many of you were my friends when I had no parents or family. I enjoyed your selfless hospitality in your Gurdwaras and Langars, and for that I have fond memories. And while I no longer wish to worship with you in your temple, I wish you prosperity and happiness in the country that is my homeland that I do love so.



*The Wiki link to Operation Blue Star may not be entirely neutral, but you can follow citations to learn more about it.