Jallianwala Bagh, 1919 Page 7

  Dyer was a showman who felt that the very sight of military power would immobilise the enemy. He had tried this bluff before when he was posted at the Sarhad—where he would apparently position his forces in such a way that they appeared more sizable than they actually were.

  Malik Fateh Khan, the Naib Tehsildar, remembered the procession which had City Inspector Ashraf Khan and his Sub Inspector Obeidulla mounted on horses at the head. Then came the occupants of the bamboo cart, followed by the contingent of white troops, and two cars: Dyer and Irving seated in the first and Rehill and Plomer in the second. The Indian troops brought up the rear. A similar procession without the Naib Tehsildar in the bamboo cart was taken out on 12 April.

  In his evidence, the Naib Tehsildar said the hartal was on, and Europeans were not being served in any of the markets. As he was working for the government, he too found it difficult to get provisions. He said the city was in bad shape as everywhere people said that Amritsar belonged to Hindus and Muslims.

  While the grouping at Sultanwind Gate turned out to be another funeral procession, Dyer was not pleased. He said: ‘the bearing of inhabitants was most insolent and many spat on the ground as the troops passed.’ The slogans they raised on Hindu-Muslim unity would have annoyed him even more. He later reported that it was difficult to disperse them, and that he had considered shooting them. This was despite the fact that the large crowds were coming back possibly after a prayer meeting for those who had died on 10 April.

  Indeed, people returning from the burial grounds did encounter soldiers kneeling on the ground, facing the crowd, ready to shoot.

  It was obvious that the presence of Dyer and his troops did not intimidate the crowd, which was still upset over the loss of their loved ones and not inclined to welcome a long line of marching soldiers accompanied by cars. This was the first large-scale display of military might that the disgruntled residents of Amritsar were exposed to.

  One among the crowd, Somdatt, later said that the Deputy Commissioner held a gun to his head and asked him to surrender.12 Somdatt was also accused of being ‘Ratto’. ‘Ratto’ and ‘Bugga’ were two of the ‘ringleaders’ (according to the information with the British) who had led the riots on 10 April. They faced immediate arrest.

  Interestingly, both Mahashe Rattan Chand (Ratto) and Chaudhri Bugga Mall (Bugga) were much more than what the British administration files would have us believe. They are examples of how respectable men were deemed terrorists because they organised political meetings or led processions. Ratto came from an orthodox family. He supplied piece goods for Marwari firms but was known more for his physical prowess. He and Bugga set up akharas, or wrestling academies, where they taught exercise and wrestling to young men. Having developed an interest in politics, they were influenced by some of the leaders in Lahore, such as Lala Duni Chand, who was a barrister. In turn, they persuaded Kitchlew and Satya Pal to hold the next Congress session at Amritsar in 1919 and had attended the one in Delhi. According to the Tribune (13 April 1961):

  Both Mahashe Rattan Chand and Chaudhuri Bugga Mal underwrote the entire bill of a Congress session, which was estimated at Rs 50,000. A sort of guarantee had to be given to the AICC headquarters.

  As evidence of their capacity to organise such a big gathering, both these leaders had arranged the Punjab Political Conference at Amritsar in 1918.

  Obviously well appreciated in Amritsar, they encouraged Hindus and Muslims to come together as they were convinced that India could never be a free country without this communal harmony. They had helped to organise the Ram Naumi celebrations on 9 April 1919 in which Hindus and Muslims had displayed a remarkable unity.

  As it happened, Bugga was arrested on 12 April (when Dyer went into the city later in the day, hunting for the ‘criminals’) as was Ratto a few days later. Under martial law, their property was confiscated and they were both sentenced to death. When the appeal for their death sentence was rejected, it was Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya who spoke for them at the Imperial Legislative Council—his intervention extended to several hours—and forced the sentences to be commuted to life imprisonment. They were sent to the Andamans, kept in solitary confinement and tortured until Bugga’s health was broken. He was shifted to Alipore Jail in Bengal, then to Lahore and Multan. The two leaders were finally released in 1936—and received a huge welcome when they returned after 17 years to Amritsar.13

  Despite their importance to the political narrative unfolding in Punjab, these ‘heroes’ of Amritsar were treated as no better than ‘thugs’ or ‘hooligans’, mainly because they had been key figures in the organisation of the hartals, were in touch with other political leaders and so were considered dangerous.

  On 12 April, Dyer warned the crowds on the street that they they would now be dealt with under military law, through a proclamation which was issued by his Brigade Major, F.C. Briggs on his behalf:

  The inhabitants of Amritsar are hereby warned that if they will cause damage to any property or will commit any acts of violence in the environs of Amritsar, it will be taken for granted that such acts are due to incitement in Amritsar city, and offenders will be punished according to Military Law.

  All meetings and gatherings are hereby prohibited and will be dispersed at once under Martial Law.

  The proclamation was given to the police, but there is no clarity even in the Hunter Committee evidence whether it was published or displayed.14

  Even though there was no official declaration of martial law (it would not be pronounced till 15 April), the Brigadier General issued the proclamation announcing the commencement of ‘Military Law’ with the full compliance of the Deputy Commissioner, Irving. As far as shooting the ‘mob’ was concerned, it would not have been easy, as the inner city was quite compact. The narrow streets made it difficult for a substantial crowd to gather, and at best he could only shoot a few. That would not have created the large-scale remorse that O’Dwyer and Kitchin were looking for.

  However, while in the city, Dyer arrested a few people. ‘Small parties of troops were sent with police to make arrests in connection with the crimes of the 10th and several important arrests were made.’ But again, there is little information regarding the names of all those arrested.15 Dina Nath, another important leader and organiser of political meetings was arrested around this time.

  In the telephonic message dated 12 April 1919, which he sent to Lahore, Dyer tried to establish his credentials:

  I marched in force through city yesterday. In combination with arrests made this apparently had a very good effect. Am going to occupy important parts in city today and issue proclamation.

  Dyer was never one to fall short on praise for his own efforts. Apparently seven arrests were made in all. This was the official figure, but from then on, hundreds were randomly arrested and taken to the Kotwali, to be forced to confess to having taken part in the riots, or to give false evidence or be tortured.

  The records of the 1/25th London Battalion, which had been brought from Jullundur to Amritsar, provide a slightly more colourful description and one can sense the awe in which the men held Dyer:

  At 10 a.m. on the 12th, General Dyer, with his usual vigour, hurried the majority of the Force down to one of the furthest city gates (the Sultanwind Gate), where he and the Police Commissioner, in breaking up a prohibited, and therefore seditious, meeting, which jeered and spat at them, caused a number of arrests to be made.

  It is obvious that these unfortunate men were arrested, not for acts of so-called sedition, but for simply slighting the white sahibs. As mentioned before, the troops misunderstood the reason for the gathering—which was a funeral procession. It is also possible that some among the distraught might have wanted to show their disregard for the troops.

  What is surprising is that Dyer seemed to have misunderstood too. He had, after all, been born and brought up in India and knew the language well. Yet, that day in Amritsar, in 1919, at the age of 55, the mockery from the civilians stung deep: his subsequent act
ions were meant to prove to everyone his tough military acumen, thus far overlooked.

  Other arrests were also made near the Kotwali. The London Battalion witnessed the deep humiliation of civilians, which was to set the tone for the next few months of military-led barbarity in Punjab: ‘The prisoners were immediately handcuffed and marched back with the column to the Ram Bagh Gardens, where they were chained, under a strong Gurkha guard, round a tree in the centre of the camp.’

  The troops were told to remain on full alert. ‘As a result, for many days not so much as a boot-lace was untied, even had any individual found sufficient free time to commence the operation.’

  According to Dyer, he wanted to punish the citizens of Amritsar for the ‘crimes’ they had committed on 10 April. This is regardless of the fact that he had arrived on the evening of 11 April—which had been a quiet day—and he (nor anyone else) had any idea who precisely had killed the five Europeans, or indulged in arson and looting. It is possible that many of those responsible were either dead or wounded or had escaped from Amritsar, but that seems to have been a minor consideration. He was guided entirely by the information given to him by the local Criminal Investigation Department (CID) or the network of spies that the British relied on.

  Possibly unaware of the ‘proclamation’ of the morning (which was not yet printed or posted in public), on the evening of 12 April, a meeting was called at the Hindu Sabha School, at Dhab Khatikan, which proposed a gathering the next day at Jallianwala Bagh.16 According to the Congress Report on the Punjab disturbances, Hans Raj, a young man who later turned approver in the ‘Amritsar Conspiracy Case’, called the meeting ‘on the 13th April at Jallianwala Bag under the chairmanship of Lala Kanhya Lal’. Kanhya Lal (75) was a pleader, and a popular one. He later denied having asked for a meeting. It was suggested that his name was used to ‘draw a large crowd’. There were murmurs that Hans Raj was in the pay of the British. The fact that he turned approver later does lend some credibility to this suspicion.

  However, at the meeting, it was decided that the hartal would continue till their two leaders, Kitchlew and Satya Pal, were released. This would have meant further trouble for the residents of Amritsar, but they were determined to defy the authorities. Gurbaksh Rai, a homeopathic doctor made a forceful speech in which he said that the ‘government had threatened them. They (the people) should not mind the government but obey the orders of their leader, Gandhi ji.’ He seconded the proposal regarding the suspension of business.17 These meetings were noted in the Amritsar police diaries and the CID reports, showing that despite the precautions taken by the organisers of the meeting, it had been infiltrated by informants. Or in it was a trap, as many were to suspect later.

  In fact, there are varying reports about who called for the meeting at Jallianwala Bagh the next day. But many of those attending saw it as a special way of remembering their leaders, and a means of somehow carrying on with the protests against the Rowlatt Acts. It was a remarkably courageous move, given that the atmosphere was so vitiated and arrests had been made over the events of 10 April. Various resolutions were also drafted in which the proposed gathering the next day was referred to as ‘this grand meeting’, which meant that a large crowd was assured for 13 April. It is also obvious from the tone of the resolutions that the meeting was meant to be entirely peaceful. Its purpose was to reassure those whose family members had been arrested that they had the support of the inhabitants of Amritsar and that the anti-Rowlatt Act agitation would continue.

  The resolutions that were framed for debate the next day survived in the evidence of a witness, Lala Rup Lal Puri. It was clear that those attending were against the ‘despotic conduct of the Government’ which might, in fact, prove ‘deleterious to the British Government’.

  Copies of all resolutions passed during the meeting at Jallianwala Bagh were to be sent to the Secretary of State, the Viceroy, the Lieutenant Governor of the Punjab, and the Deputy Commissioner of Amritsar, and a copy of the Resolution No. 4 was to be sent to the families of both the respective deported leaders. ‘The Resolution No. 4 was specifically about those who had been arrested and interned—and was to request the government for immediate release.’18

  If this was to be a large meeting, and the resolutions were already framed, the CID and other spies of the government would have definitely known about it. If these resolutions were drafted on 12 April, and copies were prepared to be handed out to all the authorities, then Dyer, Irving, Kitchin, and most importantly O’Dwyer, would have known and had time to plan for it. However, at that time, very few survivors of the massacre were to admit that they were present at the Bagh and what the purpose of the meeting was, for fear of arrest. It was only when the Congress Sub-Committee started gathering evidence almost six months later, that the truth began to slowly emerge. This evidence from witnesses at the Bagh was not part of the Hunter Committee report, and so was left out of the official narrative.

  In his evidence before the Hunter Committee, O’Dwyer said, ‘I do not think that any one who was there is likely to come forward and tell you he went to that meeting with a specified object. That was the difficulty I found. When I went to Amritsar no one would come forward and say he had been at the Jallianwala Bagh because they all evidently looked at it in this way that probably if they said they were at the Jallianwala Bagh they might get run in for defiance of authority. It might have been that they had a guilty conscience; it might have been that the authorities would think they had a guilty conscience in the matter.’19

  It was also a huge problem getting information about the dead and wounded, as family members and friends of the victims were worried about large-scale arrests.

  As O’Dwyer said in his evidence: ‘When I asked in Amritsar a week later (after the massacre), the information given to me was that there were a good number of people wounded but they were hidden away and would not come forward because they were afraid of being prosecuted. It was difficult to ascertain anything owing to the unwillingness of the people who had been in the Jallianwala Bagh and had got away from there, whether safe and sound or whether wounded to come forward. I did not go into the thing in greater detail, I had so many other things in my mind, but that was the general impression conveyed to me.’20

  The fear among the people would have been very real. Records show that at least 200 people—if not more—were arrested from Amritsar in the ‘National Bank Loot Case’ and tried under martial law.21 This was only one case against the residents of Amritsar and, despite the lack of evidence, people were arrested, tried and even jailed. Under martial law (which was already de facto in place) anything was possible. Naturally, when the massacre took place at Jallianwala Bagh, it was impossible for anyone to speak up—it would have led immediately to imprisonment. Dyer’s own report about the massacre was not sought till August 1919.22

  As there was no attempt immediately after the event to find out (in an empathetic fashion) who called the meeting, and what its purpose was, much of the surviving evidence and witnesses fell through the cracks of unrecorded history. The other problem was that, over the next few months, witnesses were forced to give false testimony or incriminate others. There would soon be thousands of these cases, and it would be difficult to ascertain the truth, for years. Thus many would claim that they had only been at the Bagh to attend the Baisakhi festival. This claim allowed them to be released—if they were believed. This led later to the myth that the crowd was largely comprised of those who had come to attend the Baisakhi festival.

  The people of Amritsar were already overwhelmed by the huge presence of the mobilising army, the cutting off of water and electricity and the arrests made in the past few days. In the frightening atmosphere created by the British Army, where none could enter or exit the city without permission, and where troops lined the city, it was a courageous act for a crowd to gather at Jallianwala Bagh, or indeed anywhere at all. They would only have gathered if they thought they could find a way to save their families and loved ones.
That if they held their heads high and displayed dignity and a peaceful purpose, they would be safe. They were continuing their peaceful protest as requested by their jailed leaders and, in particular, Gandhi.

  Perhaps they still vested some faith in the British administration: there was good reason for thinking they were secure as there had been no incidents after 10 April. Holding a political meeting at Jallianwala Bagh was not uncommon. Meetings had been held as recently as 29 March, 30 March, 6 April; and each time the crowd had grown larger and larger—reaching up to 50,000.

  What was strange was that no steps were taken to stop the ‘forbidden’ meeting. Physically blocking people or putting up notices at the entrance would have been very easy. One hundred soldiers stood guard on the main street from Hall Gate, leading up to Town Hall and Jallianwala Bagh. Around 75 policemen were at the Kotwali, next to the Town Hall, less than a six-minute walk from Jallianwala Bagh. Clearly, the only way the traumatised population of Amritsar would have taken such a huge risk was if they believed that it would be a peaceful meeting held under the guidance of a sage leader, Kanhya Lal. This must have been why so many of them took their children along as well.

  The Bagh was a barren piece of land, surrounded by houses, and was often used for gatherings and even the occasional function. It was an irregular quadrangle. There were just three trees, a well on one side, and a small shrine on the other. There was no place to hide. The land was used as a playground for children, or for cattle to graze upon. It had one narrow entrance. This was also the main exit. The only other way out of the Bagh was to leap over one side of the wall that was lower—around five feet—than the other sides. There were also a few very narrow openings to squeeze through. It was close to the Golden Temple, so people would come in to rest after they had made their obeisance.