We have a total of four photographs of Bhagat Singh: one from his childhood in which we can see his hands; the second is a group photo from the National College Lahore drama club; the third shows him sitting on a cot in police custody; and the last features him wearing a hat. The most popular is the one with the hat. It may not be a specimen of great art, but it is much more than that for us. I want to talk about it.
No one has been venerated like Bhagat Singh in Punjab in the 20th century. He inspires as much love and respect as the Sikh Gurus. The difference between the images of Nanak, Gobind Singh and Bhagat Singh is that the Gurus’ images are imaginary but Bhagat Singh’s is real. He seems so close and familiar to everyone that someone may bow his head in respect to the image but won’t seek a blessing. Due to his life and sacrifice, Bhagat Singh stands apart from the common man despite being similar, evoking emotion, respect and devotion. His image with a hat is common on calendars hung in shops of hairdressers and dhabas, on windows of trucks, on rears of rickshaws, and in the qissas sold in melas. Besides the hat and moustache, the difference in facial features in the reproduced images made it either beautiful or ugly. Still, its meaning never changes, for it has become eternal.
Bhagat Singh took Batukeshwar Dutt along to have this photograph taken by photographer Ram Nath at Kashmiri Gate, Delhi, a few days before they were arrested for throwing bombs inside the Parliament on April 9, 1929. In photos taken on the same day, one after another, Dutt is not wearing a hat. Perhaps he was shy. He was also not as trendy a dresser as Bhagat Singh. In his photo, Dutt is not looking at the camera or the viewer. For many, ‘Bhagat Singh Dutt’ is the name of one person. Bhagat Singh’s photograph is a symbol of exuberance, simplicity, and conviction. Wearing the felt hat provided by photographers for customers, Bhagat Singh looks like a fashionable young man (he liked watching films). But he was not the kind of gentleman who wore a jacket with the hat. While a hat worn over a plain shirt may seem odd, it gives a sense of cheerfulness. He wrote a letter from jail asking for a shirt with ‘Shakespearean’ collars.
Masculinity oozes from his moustache and Adam’s apple, while conviction radiates from his chin and eyes. Eyes, he inherited from his mother. His lips are full of sensitivity. Ram Nath may have known that Bhagat Singh was a wanted fugitive, but he may not have recognised the historical importance of this photograph; Bhagat Singh did. How wonderful it would have been if Ram Nath had taken more photos of them. Some pictures need no captions. Philosopher Roland Barthes has said that captions are either meant to enhance the picture, invoke empathy, or provide meaning. Bhagat Singh is so entrenched in people’s hearts and minds that just a glimpse (of his picture) elevates him and evokes empathy.
The police take photographs of the accused with a slate displaying their case number around their necks, from the front and sides. We do not know if the Delhi or Lahore police took such photographs of Bhagat Singh. But if they were found, how would he look in them? There could never be a hat in these images. He may have a stubble. On the tired face of Bhagat Singh, tormented by torture, there may not be the exuberance seen in the photograph with the hat, but his conviction will certainly be present.
Bhagat Singh wrote a letter to his fellow villager Amar Chand, living in America, in 1927: ‘Brother, my desire to study abroad is destroyed.’ If Bhagat Singh’s wish had been fulfilled, or if he had gone to Russia like other Punjabi revolutionaries, he would have needed to have a photo taken for his passport. You don’t wear a hat in a passport photo; yet, like the photograph with the hat, the face in this picture looks into the future. The photograph taken by the police faces the past. The police use torture to excavate the layers of that past. The future disappears in police custody. Another quality of this Bhagat Singh image is that it is not an image imposed on the people by the state. We have preserved this image because we find him endearing. This endearment will remain unaltered until the end of time. This picture extends a hand of friendship to the viewer. Its direct opposite is the image of Stalin.
The Punjab government committed a communal sin by altering this image. Painter Amar Singh Bansal took away the hat and replaced it with a turban. The same happened to Udham Singh’s picture. We can’t solely blame the Punjab government. Many years ago, the babas of the Kirti Party tied an ugly turban on the only photograph of Kartar Singh Sarabha with a haircut, from photographer Gurdial Singh of Amritsar. In Bhagat Singh’s image on the cot, the CID officer accompanying him has been turned into Bhai Randhir Singh in present-day calendars.
Just as death ends aging, the click of a camera halts time. The photograph is a document of frozen time. We cannot imagine an 80-year-old Bhagat Singh today. This image of Bhagat Singh is a sign of an evergreen season. People become selfish and cruel in their desire to create a timeless image of themselves. However, close relatives of Bhagat Singh, especially his mother, would not find meaning in the romance of death. Her whole world was stolen from her, and this photograph would have wounded her deeply.
This photograph of Bhagat Singh is the national photograph of Punjab. What he is to our eyes may not be the same for the eyes of non-Punjabis. A ship in Soviet Russia was named Bhagat Singh. But would the captain and sailors of that ship love Bhagat Singh like us?
Translated from the Punjabi by Jasdeep Singh.
