How the British rewarded Punjab

Islamabad diary
On the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the First World War the British, apart from other commemoration ceremonies, are remembering Indian soldiers who distinguished themselves in that conflict, including the three Muslim soldiers of the British army who were awarded the Victoria Cross, the highest gallantry award in the British armed forces.
A plaque honouring the memory of these soldiers has been placed in the grounds of the British High Commission and according to newspaper reports there are plans to bring this plaque to the Shakarparian Hills, presumably somewhere close to the ugly monument built for no apparent reason during the Musharraf regime…senseless monuments seemingly a feature of sterile dictatorships, especially when they near their end. But the plaque honouring the holders of the Victoria Cross becoming a public exhibit…would this be such a great idea?
The soldiers in question, who were undoubtedly heroes, were fighting not for India but for the greater glory of the British Empire. Anything to do with them should have an honoured place in a British war museum, to remind the British of the sacrifices rendered by Indian soldiers. They would look out of place in a Pakistani setting, all the more so because the British were less than generous in acknowledging, in suitable terms, the great contribution made by the Indian people to their war effort.
683,149 combatant troops were recruited in India between August 1914 and November 1918 – the duration of the First World War (Tan Tai Yong, Garrison State, p. 98…quoted by Rajmohan Gandhi in his Punjab). Sixty percent of this total came from Punjab. The Victoria Crosses, apart from other battle honours, are a testimony to the bravery and loyalty of the Punjabis during that great conflict.
It might have been supposed that after the war there would be a greater willingness on the part of the British to put their trust in Indians and undertake measures for greater political reform. The Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms announced in June 1918 offered some cosmetic changes at the centre – the Imperial Legislative Council becoming the Central Legislative Assembly – and, in Rajmohan’s words, “…real, if modest, improvement in the provinces.”
But any promise held out by these reforms was negated two months after the end of the war by new anti-sedition measures in the shape of the Rowlatt Bills. A wartime committee headed by Sir Sidney Rowlatt had recommended these measures. In Russia revolution had broken out. The committee feared that sedition could come from far-off quarters. To stem that possibility it proposed harsh measures – and this after more half a million Indians had fought and bled, under the command of British officers, in the fields of France and other theatres of war. The bills authorised arrests without trial and trials without appeal. Anyone caught with a ‘seditious’ pamphlet could be sentenced to two years in prison. This was Punjab’s reward for its sacrifices. Educated Indian public opinion was outraged.
India looked a bit different after the war. There was inflation, prices doubling in some instances (Rajmohan) and returning soldiers were facing difficulty finding work. Then came the Rowlatt Bills, a slap in the face of all Indians. Gandhi had arrived newly from South Africa where he had successfully put into practice his methods of non-violent resistance, satyagraha. Demonstrations against the Rowlatt measure took place in Lahore, Hindus and Muslims for the first time ever taking part in a political demonstration together. On April 13, an overflowing crowd gathered at the Badshahi Mosque in Lahore was addressed, for the first and perhaps last time in history, by Muslim, Hindu and Sikh leaders. The British authorities had always found comfort in the tried and tested principle of divide-and-rule. They now felt alarmed, especially the Punjab governor, Michael O’Dwyer.
For three days, April 10-13, the Raj’s writ was lost in Lahore. To reassert order the harshest measures were employed. Crowds of protesters were fired upon. Martial law was imposed and extraordinary steps were taken to humiliate and terrorise the population. In Gujranwala RAF planes – incredible as it may seem now – dropped bombs and used machine gun fire on unarmed crowds…after they had dispersed. To general disbelief an official inquiry later minimised casualties. Flogging was widely resorted to. In Gujranwala an order was passed requiring Indians to dismount and salute any passing officer.
But all this was nothing compared to what happened in Amritsar. Crowds there had turned violent. Several British citizens were killed, some of them bankers. A British missionary, Marcella Sherwood, was set upon by a crowd and left for dead. She was rescued by some local Indians. The father of one her pupils hid her from the mob and took her to the safety of Gobindgarh Fort (Wikipedia).
A crowd had gathered in Jallianwala Bagh to protest the arrests of prominent leaders Saifuddin Kitchlew and Satyapal. A detachment of soldiers commanded by Brig-Gen Reginald Dyer placed itself in front of the crowd and without warning, without any order to disperse, opened fire. British figures put the dead at 379 and 1200 injured. Other sources put the number of dead at well over 1000 and the injured at more than 2000…all this in just 10 minutes of concentrated firing. In a telegram to Dyer, O’Dwyer said: “Your action is correct and the lieutenant governor approves.”
After visiting Sherwood’s house on April 19, General Dyer issued an order requiring every Indian man using that street to crawl the whole distance on his hands and feet. As he later explained, “Some Indians crawl face downwards in front of their gods. I wanted them to know that a British woman is as sacred as a Hindu god and therefore they have to crawl in front of her too.”
To his credit Churchill denounced the massacre in the House of Commons and after his speech the Commons voted overwhelmingly against Dyer….hailed, nonetheless, as a hero by many Britons. Ms Sherwood called him “saviour of Punjab”.
Rabrindranath Tagore renouncing his knighthood, wrote to the Viceroy, Lord Chelmsford, “The time has come when badges of honour make our shame glaring in the incongruous context of humiliation.”
On March 13 1940, at Caxton Hall in London, Udham Singh, who had witnessed the events in Amritsar and was himself wounded there, shot and killed Michael O’Dwyer. At his trial he said, “I did it because I had a grudge against him. He deserved it…I am not scared of death. I am dying for my country. I have seen my people starving in India under British rule. I have protested against this, it was my duty. What greater honour could be bestowed on me than death for the sake of my motherland?” He liked calling himself Ram Mohammad Singh Azad. In 1952 Nehru called him, “Shaheed-e-Azam Udham Singh.”
In 1920 the non-cooperation movement announced by Gandhi gathered strength across India. Thousands went to prison. But non-cooperation did not appeal much to Punjab’s Muslims. Fazl-e-Hussain, who had earlier been part of the Rowlatt agitation, and who the previous year had headed the Punjab Congress and the Punjab League, announced his intention to enter the new council (set up by the Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms). The unity displayed during the Rowlatt agitation thus did not last long. Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs went their separate ways. At the Nagpur session of the Congress in 1920 Jinnah who was a member both of the Congress and the League, left the Congress, his differences with Gandhi over aims and tactics by now irreparable.
It is for the British to commemorate and honour their wars and conquests. It is for us to be familiar with our history…not to sow the seeds of bitterness and nurse dead hatreds but to know our past and understand better where we come from. Indeed, it is the duty of the British to never forget their Victoria Cross heroes. In our history we have had other crosses to carry.
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