At this point, Mr Tandon burst into tears, crying loudly. His wife and daughters also began to cry. To see an old, kindly man long for his parents killed a long time ago was a devastating experience. I closed the interview, feeling guilty

The story of Gurbachan Singh Tandon stands out as one of the saddest from the riots of 1947. I learnt about him from Professor Gurnam Singh of the Political Science Department, Guru Nanak Dev University, Amritsar. The interview was tape-recorded on March 29, 2004, at the Tandon residence in Noida, outside Delhi.

‘I was born on July 25, 1934, in the village, Tapiala Dost Muhammad, tehsil Shahdara, district Sheikhupura. It is located along the railway line between Lahore and Gujranwala. My parents were Hindus, belonging to the Tandon subcaste of Khatris, but I was raised as a Sikh. Among Hindu Khatris of western Punjab it was quite common that one son was made a Sikh. Takeyala Dost Muhammad comprised two-thirds Muslim and one-third Hindu households. There were also two Sikh families. The Khatris were well-to-do people. We owned a big orchard and also 25-30 acres of land. The Muslim landowning families were known as chaudhrys.

After August 15 things began to change quickly. Some people organised a procession in our village. They were carrying spears, axes and long-bladed weapons. I believe most of them were outsiders. The Muslim elders, particularly the chaudhrys, understood that trouble was on the way. They formed a peace committee. Chaudhry Mu’af Ali and Sheikh Muhammad Bashir were members whose names I remember.

The fires in Lahore could be seen from our village which was only 25 kilometres from that city. Muslim refugees from Gurdaspur district had been arriving in the villages around us. They had lost family and home and were bitter over the fact that Hindus and Sikhs were living safely in our village. Our Muslim members of the peace committee told them they would have to kill them before they could harm the Hindus and Sikhs.

However, on August 25 or 26 some 1000 to 1500 heavily-armed men launched a surprise attack. The peace committee could not prevent them from entering the village. The Hindus and Sikhs sought refuge in two big multi-storeyed brick houses belonging to prominent Hindus. I, along with my younger brother, two of my sisters and my mother went to the one owned by Manohar Lal. He, however, secured safe passage out of the village for himself and his family by agreeing to surrender his rifle. He told us to go to the other house.

The raiders surrounded the house in which we were hiding. Someone from our side threw a brick at them and one of them was killed. They retaliated by setting the house on fire. I remember the building began to shake because of the intense heat and rising flames. Our elders decided to kill the women rather than let them fall into the hands of the attackers. One young girl was beheaded in front of my eyes, another was severely wounded but the executions could not continue because people began to run in different directions as the flames began to enclose on us.

There was an exit at the back of the house and someone from among the crowd told us to give up our possessions and escape through it. Some 10 or 12 of us took that opportunity. My younger brother and I followed them. But the killers were lying in wait for us. Everyone was struck down with axes and spears. I saw my brother being hit and then I received a blow with an axe’. Mr Tandon showed me a deep gash on his head. He also showed me ugly wound marks on different parts of his body.

He continued, ‘I fainted, but was presumed to be dead. It must be 11 o’clock in the morning when it happened. At about 4 o’clock in the afternoon the Muslims of our village began to drag the dead bodies towards the nala (stream) to dispose them of. When someone pulled my leg, I opened my eyes. That man said, “This boy belongs to the Lalas (title of our family)”. He took me home and gave me sweetened milk and then water. Later, I was taken to the village mosque where the surviving Hindus were being assembled. I found my mother and sisters among them. Later my father and my grandfather who had been hiding in the fields also joined us, but my kid brother had died.

We spent the night in the mosque. Next day we were moved to a house where we stayed for 10-12 days. Later, the military arrived. We were taken to Lahore around September 10, where we stayed for four days at the camp set up in Government College. On September 14 or 15 we arrived in Amritsar.

My sister’s husband was there already. He informed us that another brother-in-law of ours, who was a subedar in the army, was going to take an army truck to our village to bring us with him. He lived just outside Amritsar and there was no way to inform him that we had reached India safely, but to go to him personally. Therefore early next morning my father and mother began walking towards his village. On the way, they met a Brahmin who ran a medical clinic. He asked them, “Who are you and where are you going?” My father told him that they were Hindus who had come from Pakistan and were on the way to the house of Lal Shah (shah is a title of Hindu traders and moneylenders). He advised them not to go via the GT Road because Pakistani military contingents were patrolling it and they might be shot dead. They should instead take a path going through the fields. They did so.

It was a trap. Four of his Sikh accomplices were lying in wait. They ordered them to hand over whatever was in their possession. My parents had only seven rupees on them. They took the money, but realising that their crime would be detected because Lal Shah was a well-known man they killed them. The whole gang was later arrested and they confessed to committing many such crimes.

At this point, Mr Tandon burst into tears, crying loudly. His wife and daughters also began to cry. To see an old, kindly man long for his parents killed a long time ago was a devastating experience. I closed the interview, feeling guilty and very ashamed.

The author is an associate professor of Political Science at Stockholm University. He is the author of two books. His email address is Ishtiaq.Ahmed@statsvet.su.se

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