Four decades have passed since the 1984 anti-Sikh pogrom, an incident that has attached itself permanently to the identity of the Sikh community in post-Independence India. Official accounts and dominant histories about 1984 have focussed dominantly on the politico-religious discourses surrounding Operation Blue Star, Indira Gandhi’s assassination, the Delhi massacres, and the violence that was subsequently unleashed on the Sikh community across India. Personal histories of the victims of 1984 have remained largely unexplored.
Even today, the history of the event continues to remain implicated in a contest of narratives. It is in this duel of histories that a human rights advocate from Jammu and Kashmir, Sanam Sutirath Wazir, heard a louder silence—that of Sikh women. His recently released book, The Kaurs of 1984, marking the 40th anniversary of the 1984 pogrom, presents a women’s history of the anti-Sikh massacre, which spilt over from Delhi and Punjab to other cities of India. By placing women’s perspectives and experiences at its centre, Wazir’s book addresses the lacuna in the available research on the violence. It brings together the lives and afterlives of Sikh women, named and unnamed, who lived through the event as rebels, victims, witnesses, and survivors of sexual and communal violence.
The book is a culmination of Wazir’s decade-long campaign for justice for the victims of the 1984 anti-Sikh pogrom, especially as a human rights activist at Amnesty International India. His deep engagement with the cause is reflected in the work’s impressive and evocative retelling of the event. In an interview with Frontline, Wazir talked about the urgency, politics, and necessities that inform his book. Edited excerpts:
Decades have passed since the 1984 massacre. Why did you feel it is important to write this book now?
It is crucial to recognise that histories of atrocity and oppression are not confined to the people who directly experience them; they are a part of our collective history. This becomes even more significant when we consider that within the next few years, we might lose the first-hand accounts of those who lived through the anti-Sikh massacres. This generation is dwindling, and their stories, if not captured now, risk getting lost forever. For me, the book was not just about documenting an event in time but was also about presenting a history that has been overlooked for far too long. The 1984 anti-Sikh massacres have not received the comprehensive historical treatment they deserve, and there is a noticeable gap in the narrative when it comes to women’s experiences.
Cover of The Kaurs of 1984. | Photo Credit: By special arrangement
As a human rights activist, why do you think mapping personal accounts is important in such cases?
Without personal narratives, it is impossible to fully comprehend the gravity of human rights violations and how deeply such events affect individuals and communities. The 1984 anti-Sikh massacre was a national shame, a dark chapter in our history that left lasting scars on countless lives. Three generations of people have suffered due to this violence.
As a minority community, Sikhs have been haunted by a pervasive sense of insecurity for a very long time. If we fail to document personal accounts, we risk reducing such events to mere numbers and statistics.
Also Read | Memories of a massacre
How does your book escape the stereotypical depiction of women as passive victims of state or communal violence? Who is the Chaurasi ki ladki, the Kaur of 1984?
Instead of depicting women solely as sufferers, my book focusses on their strength, courage, and the crucial roles they played during and after the 1984 anti-Sikh massacre.
One poignant incident that stands out and is included in the book is the story of a woman I refer to as “Chaurasi ki ladki”. When I first met her, she was unwilling to speak to me. This continued for several months. Then, during a visit in the winter of 2016, she finally opened up slightly to say: “Main baat nahi kar sakti, main Chaurasi ki ladki hoon” [I cannot speak, I am the daughter of 1984]. This was her way of expressing the profound impact of the violence she had endured as she was one of the many women who were raped during the massacre. Her simple yet powerful statement encapsulated the trauma she carried.
These women are not just victims; they are survivors who have demonstrated immense resilience by rebuilding their lives and supporting their families despite the trauma they endured. The Kaurs of 1984 presents their stories as those of survival, activism, and defiance, highlighting how they have fought for justice and remembrance in the face of systemic erasure.
The anti-Sikh pogrom in November 1984 saw Delhi go up in flames and left over 2,100 people dead in the national capital. The assassination of then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi on October 31 by her two Sikh bodyguards–the fallout of ‘Operation Blue Star’ earlier in June–provoked the riots. | Photo Credit: The Hindu Archives
Other than addressing the marginalisation of women, how else does your work subvert monolithic official/dominant histories about Operation Blue Star and the anti-Sikh pogrom?
One of my primary concerns is the regrettable tendency of dominant narratives to overlook the profound human impact of such tragic events. Additionally, it is important to acknowledge that there are multiple dominant narratives at play. Governments, in particular, will go to great lengths to justify their actions, often overshadowing non-state actors who lack the power to present their perspectives. State actors, possessing significant influence, can shape the narrative to validate their actions as necessary and justified. This dynamic is especially evident in discussions surrounding such tragic incidents.
For instance, many works (like Blue Star Over Amritsar: The Real Story of June 1984 by Harminder Kaur), including mine, raise critical questions about the post-mortems conducted after Operation Blue Star. The post-mortems revealed that the hands of numerous victims were tied behind their backs with their turbans, a detail that prompts important questions about the circumstances leading to their deaths. Such facts, however, are often obscured by dominant narratives that deflect attention away from troubling details and shift the blame onto minorities for various reasons.
““These women are not just victims; they are survivors who have demonstrated immense resilience by rebuilding their lives and supporting their families despite the trauma they endured.””
Amnesty International India, where you were working, had to halt operations in 2020 due to government crackdowns. How has that affected the work that human rights activists like you were doing to bring justice to the victims of 1984?
The halting of operations of Amnesty International India and other organisations underscores the significant challenges faced by civil society in upholding human rights in different parts of the world. These organisations serve as vital voices for marginalised communities and victims of atrocities, including those affected by historical injustices like the 1984 anti-Sikh massacre.
In my case, I have continued to work with the victims and survivors of the 1984 violence. While the support of larger organisations does have an impact, dedicated lawyers and activists persistently pursue justice on their own in the courts. Their ongoing efforts ensure that the voices of the affected are heard and their quest for justice continues. At the same time, it is crucial to support and strengthen the mechanisms that safeguard the independence and effectiveness of civil society organisations.
An exhibition of photographs of the 1984 genocide, at Connaught Place, New Delhi, on November 1, 2019. | Photo Credit: SHIV KUMAR PUSHPAKAR
Have successive governments made honest attempts to give the victims closure? What is the current status of convictions and closed cases?
Successive governments have actually used the 1984 anti-Sikh massacres as a political bait. Around elections and anniversaries, we often hear speeches and promises, but significant progress remains elusive. Aside from a few emblematic cases, there has been little advancement. Although some cases are still pending in court, given the scale of the killings, justice has not been adequately served. This pattern underscores the need for a more genuine approach to justice, one that goes beyond symbolic gestures and addresses the full extent of the harm experienced by victims and survivors.
Also Read | A dead end in Delhi—November 1984
You write about your discomfort with justice being equated with monetary compensations and jobs. What does true justice for victims look like?
I have long harboured reservations about the reduction of justice to monetary compensations and employment opportunities. How can one quantify the loss of life, opportunity, or the devastating impact of losing multiple family members? Such metrics fail to address the enduring psychological trauma faced by victims and survivors. I advocate for a more comprehensive approach grounded in the concept of reparation. Reparative justice should encompass holistic rehabilitation, addressing lost opportunities and broader societal impacts.
Achieving genuine justice for victims begins with acknowledgement—a sincere recognition of the atrocities committed. It is not about seeking forgiveness or forgetting but about achieving closure through acknowledgement and accountability. Perpetrators should be brought to justice, and impunity must end. Governments have a crucial role in establishing effective mechanisms to support healing and address the long-term impacts of historical injustices.
Tooba Towfiq is an independent journalist and researcher.
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