Kartarpur Corridor: From Symbol Of Peace To Site Of Punishment – OpEd
The unilateral closure of the Kartarpur Corridor by India, following the post-Operation Sindoor tensions, is more than a temporary geopolitical gesture — it is part of a systemic pattern of marginalization aimed at undermining the Sikh identity, both at home and abroad.
Framed by the state as a national security measure, this decision instead highlights the use of collective punishment and religious restriction as tools of political control. While Pakistan kept its side of the corridor open, upholding its commitment to religious pluralism, India used the opportunity to deny its Sikh citizens access to Gurdwara Darbar Sahib, one of their most sacred shrines.
This isn’t merely a diplomatic incident — it is the latest expression of state-sanctioned Hindutva nationalism, which consistently subordinates religious minorities under the rubric of a homogenized Hindu identity. From denial of sacred space to targeted killings abroad, India’s treatment of the Sikh community reveals a disturbing architecture of exclusion and repression.
Opened in 2019 as a historic corridor of peace, Kartarpur Sahib symbolized hope and reconciliation between two estranged neighbors. It granted visa-free access to Sikh pilgrims from India, offering them a direct route to one of the holiest sites in Sikhism. But in a move that belied this spirit, the Modi government suspended access unilaterally, without consulting Sikh stakeholders or considering religious implications. Akal Takht Jathedar Giani Kuldeep Singh Gargaj and other community leaders expressed grave disappointment, interpreting the closure not as a safety precaution but a political slight.
This unilateral decision is symptomatic of the BJP’s majoritarian impulse — the tendency to instrumentalize religion for strategic gain, while ignoring the religious autonomy and identity of minorities. It also reflects India’s shift from pluralistic secularism toward ethno-religious centralization, where Sikhism’s distinctiveness is seen as a challenge to the unitary Hindu identity promoted by Hindutva ideology.
Beyond symbolic closures, India’s approach to Sikh dissent has become increasingly extraterritorial and coercive. The June 2023 assassination of Hardeep Singh Nijjar in Canada, linked by Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to credible Indian state involvement, marked a watershed moment. This act was followed by the suspicious death of Avtar Singh Khanda in the UK and the foiled assassination attempt on Gurpatwant Singh Pannun, a U.S.-Canadian national, in which the U.S. Department of Justice indicted Nikhil Gupta, an Indian government employee, for plotting the murder.
These incidents illustrate a dangerous evolution of India’s intelligence operations — from domestic surveillance to global enforcement, often targeting diaspora activists critical of New Delhi’s policies in Punjab and Kashmir. They parallel the kind of transnational authoritarianism previously associated with regimes like Russia or Saudi Arabia — using extrajudicial killings to suppress dissent and instill fear across borders.
India’s war on Sikh identity is not confined to religion alone. It extends to resource denial, most notably through the controversial Sutlej-Yamuna Link (SYL) Canal. This infrastructure project seeks to divert Punjab’s river water to non-riparian, BJP-ruled states like Haryana and Rajasthan, despite Punjab’s longstanding objections and a deepening groundwater crisis in the region. This strategy not only undermines Punjab’s agrarian economy but is perceived by many as an economic assault on the Sikh heartland.
India’s selective suppression of Sikh identity is rooted in a deeper historical grievance: the 1984 anti-Sikh riots, in which thousands were killed following Indira Gandhi’s assassination. Decades later, justice remains largely undelivered, with several perpetrators shielded by political patronage. This lack of accountability has eroded Sikh trust in the Indian state, especially as the same political forces now seek to erase Sikh dissent both legally and lethally. Furthermore, the banning of Sikh advocacy groups such as Sikhs for Justice, and the criminalization of Khalistani rhetoric — even in peaceful, democratic settings — demonstrates a state unwilling to differentiate between separatism, cultural expression, and dissent. This has resulted in the shrinking of civil spaces for Sikh expression, especially for those advocating historical justice or cultural rights.
India’s war on Sikh identity — from closed corridors to international kill lists, and from resource deprivation to judicial overreach — must be seen not as a series of isolated decisions, but as part of a deliberate strategic blueprint to marginalize a proud and historically significant community. The current regime’s reliance on repression over reconciliation, and on surveillance over dialogue, betrays the pluralistic foundation upon which India was built. For the international community, especially rights-based democracies, this moment demands more than diplomatic posturing. It calls for principled engagement, investigation into transnational killings, and pressure on India to uphold minority rights. Without such accountability, Sikh identity will continue to be treated not as part of the Indian mosaic, but as a threat to be neutralized — domestically and globally.
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