Justice Delayed, Memories Unfaded: Raj Nagar Remembers 1984

Time of India

3 days ago

New Delhi: In the weathered doorway of his home in Raj Nagar in southwest Delhi's Palam Colony, 81-year-old Sawarn Singh raised his trembling hands, eyes moist as he recreated the final moments of his 26-year-old brother-in-law's life.
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"That's how he died," Singh said. "He put up his hands to surrender, but the mob shot him and four others on the spot."
's recent order on a retrial and reconstruction of missing case files from the 1984 anti-Sikh riots has stirred a fragile hope among the few families still remaining in what was once a thriving Sikh neighborhood, where a handful of aging houses stand among the cluster of newly built residences as silent witnesses to a dark chapter in Indian history.
A survivor gave TOI directions to the notorious site in Raj Nagar: "There's a gurdwara, take the turn there, stop at the pole." But for her, that pole isn't just a marker — it's where her father was tied and burned alive as the family watched in horror.
For Singh, the memories remain razor-sharp four decades later. "I was at work when there was a buzz about Indira Gandhi's assassination," he recalled. "Immediately afterwards, there were anti-Sikh sentiments expressed.
I felt this fear in my heart and rushed back home, only to find mob violence had already started."
What followed were days of terror that would forever scar this community. Singh describes how families huddled on terraces, lying flat against the concrete, occasionally lifting their heads just enough to peer through railings to see if the rioters were approaching. "We were hiding for our lives, especially the men, because there was a pattern," Singh explained.
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"The mob was targeting Sikh men and their sons with absolutely no remorse in their eyes, no hesitation or fear in the way they were hunting down people.
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Singh credits the presence of mind of his late wife, who passed away earlier this year, with saving his life. When the mob came banging at their door, demanding "Yahan sardar hai?", she boldly answered in the negative. "To prove it, they demanded a photograph. My wife was smart enough to show them a picture of me from when I had gotten a haircut for work abroad before I grew my hair long again," Singh said.
"She had hidden all the other framed pictures showing me wearing a turban.
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Survival in the neighborhood meant erasing identity. Families burned wedding photos, discarded turbans and shed any visible trace of their Sikh heritage. Harpal Lal Singh, 78, recalled the agonizing choices neighbours had to make. "I remember cutting the hair of two boys with my own hands so they could hide in my house. I can still see how scared they were.
Their parents pleaded with us to keep them safe," Harpal said.
"The rioters killed our closest friends, the entire community of Sikhs who had settled here from Punjab's Jalandhar." His wife, Parkash Kaur, 73, was sleeping on the terrace with their four-month-old daughter when the mob arrived. "I only remember being frightened for my daughter's life," she said.
Dalbir Singh, 71, recalls passing off his sons as girls.
"My boys were just 3-4 years old. They had long hair and wore patkas. We removed them, dressed them up in frocks and sent them to the gurdwara in Moti Bagh to seek shelter."
Even second-generation survivors carry the trauma. One widow explained how her late husband, whose in-laws faced the riots' brutality, refused to keep any photographs as reminders. "He discarded everything to obliterate any reminders of the past.
Maybe some old utensils remain, but no pictures, no memories."
There is weary skepticism about the high court's order "Why now and how?" mumbled Sawarn Singh. Dalbir's wife, Balwinder Kaur, voiced the exhaustion of a community that has waited four decades for justice. "We lost track of all documents. Those who initially tried approaching authorities, the widowed women with no resources, what were they supposed to do? Follow up for how long? Do we have to track down every helpless mother or wife who returned to their villages? Maybe some of them aren't even alive anymore.
How can we expect justice to be truly served?"
The court decision may offer a glimmer of hope, but for families who have spent four decades living with injustice, hope itself is now a fragile, complicated emotion.