Pali Grewal, 70, began her life in a Punjab which
was eventually partitioned; her teen years were spent internalizing
what it meant to be a refugee. As a grown woman she married an IAS
officer; as his partner she observed India grow through its
socialist phase. November 1984 ruptured anew her adult life, as her
husband managed the sudden indignities of being a Sikh officer, and
her children, now marked as Sikhs, attempted to find and redefine
their place. She lived with her family on Tilak Marg, in the heart
of Delhi’s imposing official sector.
There were three Sikh officers in our colony,
Grewal, Bains and Teja; I don’t think anyone knew that Teja was a
Sikh because his hair was cut and he was married to a Christian.
Things began to change around us soon after Blue Star; neighbour
ladies would say idiotic things but I paid no mind to them. I was
ashamed that a Jat Sikh had been sent into Harmandir Sahib but I
didn’t talk about any of it with anyone.
On 31 November, Dev came home in the afternoon
and asked where the girls were. I told him that they were away to
Vasant Vihar to find some tailor there. He took the office car and
went looking all over the place; by late afternoon both he and the
girls returned almost together. I could tell that he was shaken as
were the girls. But he kept insisting that the troubles he had seen
on the roads would soon be taken care of, as it takes just a few
hours for the administration to return things to normalcy. I didn’t
know what to think other than what I was to do with my girls. I had
lived through Partition. I knew what could happen. I knew how people
could turn on one another. I was worried like my mother had worried
all those years ago with her three daughters.
But then in 1947 safety was not my responsibility
because my mother was there. In 1984 I had to think really hard
because of my two daughters; they were my responsibility. Dev had so
much faith in the administration; he didn’t worry until Sardar Karam
Singh rang up to inform that Justice Chadha’s house had been
attacked. Justice Chadha had to call for police protection from the
high court. Karam Singhs had male chaprasis from Bihar who knew how
to make bottle-bombs. But we had no such help at our place. To get
some police protection, Dev called up DIG Rajinder Sahay who said,
‘I am sorry sir, but we cannot help you. We have orders.’ He was
stunned. I think that is when he realized what was going to happen
in Delhi.
I went to a neighbour’s house, the Telangs, to
ask Mangla if she would keep the girls there for the night. I was
shocked at her behaviour; ultimately she was a Hindu and we were
Sikhs. She told me that she had a relative who was a General in the
Army, she would give me his address and we should drive over there.
I told her that I had plenty of relatives too but the problem right
now that we could not go anywhere. She said, ‘Sorry, I cannot keep
the girls.’ I came home so angry; as I was returning I remember
thinking, ‘If my home goes up in flames I will make sure your does
too.’ Then she called up later and said, ‘I have prepared a bedroom
if you want to use it.’ I told her, ‘I trust no one; I certainly
don’t trust you.’ I went to pray and all us sat there together in
front of the Guru Granth Sahib, praying. Then I ate enough for
everyone; none of you wanted to eat.
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