In a move that has stirred public sentiment and raised serious questions regarding the normalization of radical narratives in Punjab, the wife of a slain Khalistani terrorist was recently presented with a ‘robe of honour’ in a ceremony that has caught the attention of not only political observers but also common citizens. The event, held in a rural part of Punjab, was attended by supporters of the separatist ideology and religious leaders, who hailed the deceased militant as a martyr for the Sikh cause. The honoring of his widow symbolized, in their words, a tribute to the sacrifices made by families of those who laid down their lives during the insurgency era for what they considered their community’s dignity and autonomy.
The woman, dressed in a simple yet elegant Punjabi suit, appeared both emotional and stoic as she stepped forward to receive the ‘siropa’—a ceremonial robe used in Sikh culture to recognize and honour individuals for their service or sacrifice. She was given the honour amidst chanting of slogans and verses from Sikh scriptures, with several members of the audience visibly moved by the moment. Her husband, who was known for his association with radical elements during the troubled 1980s and 90s in Punjab, had been killed in a police encounter years ago and was labeled a terrorist by the Indian state. However, in certain pockets of Punjab, particularly those that sympathize with the cause of Khalistan, he is seen in a different light—as a martyr who died fighting for Sikh rights.
This recent ceremony is not an isolated incident. Over the years, such events—though rare—have surfaced sporadically, evoking mixed reactions from the people of Punjab. For some, especially families who lost loved ones to terrorism during Punjab’s dark decade of insurgency, these commemorations serve as painful reminders of the bloodshed that once engulfed the state. For others, particularly those inclined towards the ideology of Khalistan or who believe the state continues to sideline Sikh identity and issues, such gestures are viewed as acts of resistance and remembrance.
The implications of the event, however, extend far beyond symbolism. Political parties and security experts have warned that glorifying militants, even posthumously, sends the wrong message to the youth of Punjab—a state that is still struggling with high levels of unemployment, drug addiction, and a search for identity among its younger generations. When terrorists or separatists are celebrated publicly, it potentially opens up space for the revival of dangerous ideologies, experts say.
A few days following the ceremony, photos and videos of the event surfaced on social media platforms. The visuals showed the woman being garlanded, the siropa being placed around her shoulders, and speeches that reminisced about the ‘bravery’ and ‘sacrifice’ of her husband. In one clip, a local religious leader praised the deceased militant for not giving in to what he called ‘state repression’ and called on the community to continue the fight for justice.
The reaction online was swift and divided. While some users expressed sympathy and acknowledged the pain that families endure when a loved one dies—regardless of their affiliations—others were furious that such a platform was being used to romanticize violent extremism. Some users tagged government and law enforcement authorities, demanding that legal action be taken against those involved in organizing the ceremony. Others called for introspection, pointing out that the repeated failures in addressing core grievances of some communities have led to the romanticizing of violent pasts.
The Punjab government, when approached for a statement, maintained a cautious stance. A spokesperson from the Home Department stated that law enforcement agencies are monitoring the matter and will take appropriate steps if any violations of law are found. He also emphasized the state’s commitment to maintaining peace and harmony and said the state does not endorse or support any activities that might rekindle tensions or promote separatist ideologies.
On the ground, reactions in the village where the ceremony took place were more nuanced. Elderly residents remembered the days when the entire region lived in fear—of both militants and the police. “We lost too many sons,” said a retired schoolteacher. “I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up in a Punjab that forgets how painful those years were. People must remember, but not glorify that pain.”
Meanwhile, Sikh religious institutions and scholars are also weighing in. Some believe that giving a siropa, a sacred token of respect, must not be conflated with a political endorsement. They argue that it’s a spiritual gesture—an acknowledgment of endurance, grief, and service. Others are more cautious, suggesting that religious platforms must not be hijacked to justify political extremism.
The widow at the center of the storm has largely remained quiet following the ceremony. In a brief conversation with local media, she said her husband died for what he believed in and that she was proud of him. “For years, we lived in silence, carrying the burden of judgment. Today, someone remembered our pain and our story.”
Her words, like the entire episode, reflect the complexities of Punjab’s past and present. Even decades after the insurgency ended, its echoes continue to surface, occasionally through ceremonies like this, and often through the unresolved wounds it left behind. There is no doubt that the Punjab of today is drastically different from the one scarred by blood and fire. But as this recent ceremony has shown, history remains a living, breathing entity—recalled and reshaped through personal memories, collective grief, and political narratives.
What remains essential is the need for critical reflection. How a society remembers its past shapes how it envisions its future. Whether this remembrance leans towards reconciliation or resurgence depends on the choices made by its institutions, its leaders, and its people. Punjab, known for its resilience and spirit, stands once again at a crossroads—balancing the thin line between remembering the past and being consumed by it.
As the controversy continues to simmer, all eyes will be on how the government, civil society, and the Sikh community navigate these troubled waters. Will this ceremony be seen as an isolated act of grief and remembrance, or as a sign of something more unsettling emerging beneath the surface of Punjab’s fragile peace? Only time will tell.