Forty-one years have passed since the Indian state launched its coordinated assault on the Panth or Sikh Collective—its sanctuaries, its psyche, and its sovereignty.

The 1984 Ghallughara (genocidal campaigns and more) is not merely a historical episode—it is a living force that continues to shape Sikh identity, consciousness, and commitment. The invasion of Sri Harimandar Sahib, Akal Takht Sahib, and over 100 gurduaras across Panjab was not just an act of state violence—it was an attempt to crush the spirit of Sikh sovereignty and silence the voice of a distinct, dignified people. But that spirit was not silenced. It stood. It resisted. And it still does.

The records of June 1984 and November 1984 have been documented in detail. What remains critical in this 41st year is to deepen our understanding of why it happened and how it continues. The narrative of 'terrorism' and 'separatism' that was used to justify state brutality still lingers in public discourse and policy. Sikhs who assert their rights are still seen through a lens of suspicion. Institutions continue to be reshaped to accommodate a diluted, domesticated version of Sikhi.

But 1984 was never just about physical violence—it was more about ideological subjugation. The Indian state’s assault was designed to fracture the foundation of Sikh sovereignty, housed institutionally at the Akal Takht and intellectually in the Sikh Reference Library. It was a direct attack on the Panth’s memory, its self-understanding, and its political clarity. And yet, that clarity endures.

We recall not just the trauma of 1984, but the resistance it evoked—the defiance of those who refused to be broken, the quiet courage of those who preserved what they could, and the ongoing power of the Sikh Collective to remember, to resist, and to reimagine. To mark 41 years is not merely to recall what was done to us, but to remember our defiance—and to renew our commitment.

The effort to erase Sikhi’s distinctiveness has not been successful. The Guru Khalsa Panth is still here under the aegis of the Guru Granth Sahib. Organizing. Singing. Serving. Asking hard questions. Standing tall.

The 1984 Ghallughara is not over. Its aftershocks live on in courtrooms, classrooms, and state corridors. But so does the Sikh spirit—undaunted, uncolonized, and unafraid. Our remembrance is not passive. It is political-spiritual. It is poetic-stoic. It is principled-synthesized.

This June, our curated reflections focus on the legacy and ongoing implications of the 1984 Ghallughara. We invite you to engage—not just with history, but with the present struggle for dignity, sovereignty, and truth.

We remember our defiance.
We resist with conviction.
We rise with grace.

May the Wisdom-Guru guide us.