Tales from a Bloody Baisakhi
Set around the 1919 Jallianwala Bagh massacre, Navtej Sarna’s Crimson Spring is a tragic retelling that details individual lives shattered by this dark chapter in history.
1919, Jallianwala Bagh, Amritsar.
As human beings, when we look back on our journey of growth and evolution, there are very few of us who can pinpoint a specific day or time, and say, “That was the moment my life changed.” Yet, history is filled with such moments. They impact the lives of individuals and families; of the state and of political structures. These impacts could be long-lasting and affect several generations, even if they aren’t fully understood in the present time.
The Jallianwala Bagh massacre was one such event. You were likely not in Amritsar that day, and yet, it’s unlikely that you’ve remained unaffected by the day’s aftermath.
Over a hundred years later, the massacre continues to impact the fabric of Indian society. The political implications of its aftermath are well known: the widespread anger against the British Raj, Rabindranath Tagore giving up his knighthood, Udham Singh shooting General Dyer in London about two decades later. The event pops up in our history books and in movies about freedom fighters and the colonial rule.
However, what isn’t often explored in much detail is the impact that this event had on individuals—ordinary people like you and me—who lived in Punjab in 1919.
In his 1998 Sahitya Akademi Award-winning novel The Shadow Lines, Amitav Ghosh wrote about young men and women in 1939: “What is the colour of that knowledge? Nobody knows, nobody can ever know, not even in memory, because there are moments in time that are not knowable: nobody can ever know what it was like to be young and intelligent in the summer of 1939 in London or Berlin.” I feel the same way about the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre, for it is near-impossible to imagine the true horror and rage that this event induced.
Yet, Navtej Sarna, in his latest novel, Crimson Spring (Aleph Book Company, 2022) attempts just that. Through the perspectives of nine characters, Sarna tries to draw a picture of what exactly happened in Amritsar that Baisakhi day. The characters themselves cover a wide range of people, each serving a different function in the story. There is Maya Dei on a pilgrimage to Amritsar’s Golden Temple, whose husband is curious about the gathering at the Bagh and so, just comes to take a look. There is Kirpal Singh, a soldier in the British Indian Army, on leave for the first time after fighting in Europe in the Great War. There are Ghadar Party sympathizers and even British officers. To tell a complete story, one needs all perspectives, even of the ‘villains’.
And yes, there is also the story of a fictionalized, young Udham Singh.
Each individual is affected by the events of that day, whether they were physically present or not, whether they lost loved ones or not.
The book takes its time building the story of each character. We see Maya Dei growing up, and her struggles; we see how Kirpal Singh got interested in the army; and the relationship between Sucha and Ralla . We even hear the innermost thoughts of Porter, a British official. The background lives of each character are, of course, integral to the plot, as it is vital for readers to understand and feel for the individuals who have witnessed an event so traumatic. Unfortunately, these backstories are often rambling, and our emotional response to the characters is perhaps more of a response to the terror of the situation they faced.
In painstaking detail, [Sarna] writes of Amritsar on the days leading up to the fateful Baisakhi day. He describes the palpable tension after the previous arrests, the unease in the air that everyone can feel. He brings alive this storied city, almost as much as any of the other characters in the book.
Sarna explores several poignant and nuanced concepts. From the religious value of the Golden Temple and its place in Sikh lives to the imperialist mindset of the rulers, he manages to describe early 20th century life in Punjab in vivid detail.
One particularly fascinating story is of Kirpal Singh. He is a soldier who has seen unimaginable horrors in the Great War. He has fought by the orders of his masters in places far away from his home. He has killed, and has seen his friends die in a war that was not even their own. Yet, when he is finally back to his homeland to meet his father and uncle, he witnesses the inhumane way his countrymen are treated at the hands of the master he was fighting for. Through this track, Sarna touches on several aspects of colonialism and the disillusionment of those who served the Raj. Not only were they never awarded for their efforts, their families were moreover treated in the most horrific fashion.
Where Sarna particularly succeeds in creating the mahaul of the setting. In painstaking detail, he writes of Amritsar on the days leading up to the fateful Baisakhi day. He describes the palpable tension after the previous arrests, the unease in the air that everyone can feel. He brings alive this storied city, almost as much as any of the other characters in the book. The description of the massacre itself is heart wrenching. The scenes of terror are unimaginable: People and animals crying out in pain, bodies piled up on top of each other, with almost no help available in the face of the curfew declared by the police that night.
In his narration, Sarna moves back and forth across timelines, places and characters. As a stylistic choice, it ensures that the reader is never left too long in a state of tension about the massacre. However, the constant switching often takes one away from the narrative’s linear focus.
Yet, the novel succeeds in its examination of the individual experiences. This is one of my favourite genres of literature and film, one which explores how large social or historical incidents affect the micro lives of people. Sure, history books give us the larger consequences, but my concern is often with the human story. Tell me about individual families who had to leave their homes in 1947, during the Partition. How did families in Germany deal with concentration camps? How were their daily lives affected?
My obsession with this form of historical storytelling began when I was just around ten years old, when I discovered the Anne of Green Gables series by Lucy Maud. Soon, I had read all the books of the series. The last book, Rilla of Ingleside, is set during The First World War, and is a coming-of-age story of Anne’s youngest daughter, Rilla. It was the first time I was reading about the World Wars, and I was fascinated. (I even spent a long time hoping I would get to live through some kind of major war, if only to experience the emotions Rilla goes through). The book explores how life in a remote village in Canada is just upturned due to the War that is so far away. Whether it is in boys going away to fight or in creation of Red Cross Societies and rationing of groceries, the book shows how an event like this has unpredictable and unimaginable consequences for so many people around the world.
These are the details that don’t often make it into historical retellings, in literature or on screen. Yet, they remain an essential factor to understand the situation and its impact on the lives of ordinary citizens.
Crimson Spring is one such tale, too. Sarna’s novel is a valiant effort at demonstrating to the reader what people in Amritsar felt that day. As Sucha says in the novel, many years after the incident, “That was the worst time, the time of Jallianwala Bagh… I can still hear the barrage of bullets if I shut my eyes and think of that Baisakhi.” And yet, Sarna’s work is undeniable proof that the tales of the worst of times need to be told, too—even if it takes a hundred years.
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Shreemayee Das is a writer and producer of standup comedy shows in Mumbai. She writes on cinema and culture, and has been published in Mint Lounge, The Telegraph and Firstpost. She has a lot to say about books, but can't seem to write any. You can find her on Twitter: @weepli and Instagram @weepli.
