Punjab’s history contains some of its darkest and most painful chapters from the period of militancy during the 1980s and 1990s. The State faced terrorism, targeted killings and violence, while the police and security forces conducted an intense counter-insurgency campaign. Thousands of families were affected. Some young men were arrested, some disappeared, and others were later reported to have been killed in police encounters. Decades later, questions surrounding some of those deaths continue to trouble Punjab.
In 2013, the issue came back into the public spotlight after Punjab Police Sub-Inspector Surjit Singh made serious allegations about his own involvement in encounter killings. According to contemporary media reports, he claimed that he had participated in the killing of 83 people in encounters and alleged that some of those people had already been taken into police custody. He further alleged that senior police officers had directed him to carry out such operations. These were allegations made by Surjit Singh and should not be treated as facts without a proper judicial or independent investigation.
The most disturbing question is therefore simple: Who were those 83 people? Were they genuinely armed militants killed in encounters, or were some of them people who had already been detained? Where were they arrested? What records existed regarding their arrests? What happened to their bodies? Were their families informed? And if any of the allegations were true, who gave the orders and who accepted responsibility?
The distinction between a genuine encounter and a fake or staged encounter is fundamental. Police and security forces have the responsibility to confront armed militants and protect innocent citizens. But the same State is also bound by law. If a person is unlawfully detained and subsequently killed and the death is presented as an armed encounter, the matter becomes not merely a policing issue but a serious question of criminal accountability and human rights.
The allegations were particularly significant because they came from a person who had served inside the police system. When a serving or former police officer makes allegations about unlawful killings carried out within the system, the public deserves more than a political argument between parties. It deserves an independent examination of the evidence, records, encounter reports, post-mortem documents and the circumstances surrounding each death.
The controversy also brought renewed attention to the wider human-rights questions raised during Punjab’s counter-insurgency period. Activists such as Jaswant Singh Khalra had documented allegations concerning disappeared persons, unidentified bodies and cremations. Whatever one’s political position may be, such allegations deserve to be examined through evidence and due process rather than being dismissed simply because the events are old.
At the same time, it would be unfair to portray the entire Punjab Police as responsible for wrongdoing. Thousands of police personnel fought terrorism under extremely dangerous conditions, and many officers and their families paid the ultimate price. Their sacrifices should be remembered and respected. But honouring those who served courageously does not mean ignoring credible allegations against individuals who may have abused their authority.
Accountability does not weaken an institution; it strengthens it. If an officer acted lawfully, an investigation can establish that. If allegations were false, the officer’s name can be cleared. But if evidence establishes that innocent people were unlawfully killed, those responsible should face the law regardless of their rank, political connections or retirement status.
For the families of people who disappeared during those years, this is not merely a historical debate. A mother whose son left home and never returned does not automatically receive closure simply because three or four decades have passed. A family deserves to know what happened to its missing relative, whether that person was actually involved in militancy, and under what circumstances he died.
The number 83 therefore cannot be treated merely as a statistic. If the allegations were accurate even in part, behind that number were dozens of human beings and dozens of families. Every case would have its own story, its own parents, children, relatives and unanswered questions.
Punjab does not need revenge. Punjab needs truth and justice. Those who committed terrorism should be held accountable. Those police officers and security personnel who sacrificed their lives protecting society deserve respect. But if innocent citizens were unlawfully killed in the name of counter-insurgency, their families also deserve justice.
The central question remains:
If such serious allegations involving 83 encounter killings were publicly made, was every individual case independently and transparently investigated, and did the families receive a credible answer about what happened to their loved ones?If the answer is no, then this chapter of Punjab’s history cannot simply be placed in the archives and forgotten.History does not ask for revenge. History asks for truth.
Disclaimer: This article and accompanying images are for informational and illustrative purposes only. Some visuals may be AI-generated or digitally enhanced and may not depict actual events or persons.Views expressed are based on publicly available information and analysis