By the early 1990s, Punjab was caught in the throes of a violent separatist insurgency. Khalistani terrorist groups waging a campaign for an independent Sikh homeland, Khalistan, routinely targeted civilians – especially Hindus – in an effort to terrorize the populace and undermine the Indian state. The year 1991 saw a sharp escalation in violence. Punjab had been under President’s Rule (direct central governance) since 1987, and elections were finally scheduled in June 1991 to restore a democratic government.

However, militant factions vowed to “boycott the election” through bloodshed. In the first five months of 1991 alone, hundreds of people were killed as extremists sought to derail the polls. Dozens of political candidates were assassinated (over 20 by mid-June) in a systematic campaign to intimidate anyone participating in the electoral process.

On June 7, 1991, barely two weeks before the planned voting day, an assassination attempt targeted India’s Minister of State for Home Affairs, Subodh Kant Sahay, as he campaigned in Ludhiana. A bomb exploded in a pile of gravel as Sahay’s convoy passed by; fortunately he escaped unhurt. This brazen attack on the senior official – who was contesting the Ludhiana parliamentary seat – underscored how perilous the situation had become. It also emboldened calls to cancel or postpone the Punjab elections. Indeed, multiple political parties (including the opposition Congress) urged that polls could not be credibly held amid such carnage.

The central government initially resisted canceling the vote. On June 14, 1991, just one day before the massacres to come, New Delhi declared Punjab a “disturbed area” – a legal designation to empower security forces – and deployed approximately 140,000 Army and paramilitary troops across the state. The army was given sweeping authority to search, detain, and use force in hopes of ensuring a safe election. “We shall hold these [elections] at all costs… This is a very sacred right and has to be protected with all our might,” declared Punjab’s top administrator, Tejendra Khanna, on the eve of the vote. Punjab’s polling had been scheduled for June 22, a week later than the rest of India’s general elections, so that security forces could concentrate in the volatile state.

As June 15 dawned, few realized the horrors that would unfold that night. It would become one of the darkest days in Punjab’s history, remembered for the “Tragedy on Wheels” – coordinated terror strikes on two passenger trains – and several other gruesome attacks. These events ultimately forced authorities to abort the election experiment. The stage was set for tragedy: militants were desperate to stop the democratic process at any cost, and they chose mass murder as their tool.

The Night of 15 June 1991: Twin Train Massacres

“It was 9:35 PM on 15th June 1991.” Under the cover of darkness, two trains carrying late-night travelers slowed to a stop on separate rail lines in Ludhiana district. Unbeknownst to the passengers, Khalistani terrorists had engineered this halt as a deadly trap. In a chillingly coordinated operation, two heavily armed hit squads of Sikh militants struck both trains almost simultaneously.

The first target was a Ludhiana-bound train originating from Ferozepur. As it approached the village of Baddowal (about 3 miles west of Ludhiana), militants hot-wired the signal system to display a false red signal, forcing the train to grind to a halt. (Other accounts suggest that insurgents had already infiltrated the train and pulled the emergency chain from inside. Either way, the outcome was the same: the coaches jerked to a stop in the middle of nowhere, leaving the train vulnerable.) Within moments, a dozen armed militants swarmed the train. Dressed in distinctive black and saffron turbans – trademarks of the separatist fighters – they casually walked through the compartments and opened fire with automatic weapons. Gunfire erupted in a blistering spray. The terrorists showed no mercy, raking the crowded passenger cars with bullets and slaughtering men, women, and even children indiscriminately. Panicked screams filled the night air. Passengers had been caught completely off-guard in what should have been a routine journey; now they were targets in a killing field.

About ten minutes later and 15 miles away, a second strike unfolded on the Dhuri–Hisar passenger train traveling on the Ludhiana–Dhuri line. That train was stopped near the station of Qila Raipur (approximately 10 miles south of Ludhiana). There, another gang of Khalistani gunmen implemented a more sinister method. According to witnesses, the attackers first separated Hindu passengers from Sikh passengers in the train cars. The Hindus were forced to disembark and were herded at gunpoint onto the adjacent railway track. Then, in an act of cold-blooded cruelty, the militants lined up the captive Hindu men and women and executed them at point-blank range. Several victims tried to flee into the fields in terror – but the killers chased them down among the mustard plants and shot them, as later recounted by police officials. Bodies fell in rows alongside the rails. In those few minutes of nightmare, the second train massacre claimed dozens of innocent lives.

Local villagers and railway staff would later recall scenes of utter horror and heroism. At Kila Raipur station, railway employees on duty watched in shock as gunmen terrorized the train they had signaled. Some Sikh passengers on the train bravely tried to shield their Hindu co-travelers, pleading for mercy; they were ruthlessly shot at and injured for intervening. After the assailants fled, railway workers and villagers rushed to aid the survivors – carrying the wounded, giving water, food and first aid, and helping the traumatized until rescue teams arrived. The Ludhiana–Ferozepur train, after the attackers vanished, managed to reverse back to the nearest station (Baddowal) to seek help. Doctors and police who responded described a ghastly scene: “dozens and dozens of people with gunshot wounds, many in serious condition,” as one surgeon in Ludhiana later told reporters.

The twin attacks lasted only minutes, but their human toll was staggering. All told, at least 110 passengers were killed in the two train massacres on June 15. Approximately 62 people were gunned down on the first train near Baddowal, and 48 on the second train near Qila Raipur. Another 70+ people sustained serious injuries in the carnage. It was the deadliest coordinated terrorist attack in Punjab’s history, the bloodiest single day of the entire insurgency. The Khalistan Commando Force (KCF) later claimed responsibility for the atrocities, though other Khalistani factions were also suspected to have colluded.

“Hundreds of families were destroyed in Punjab by Khalistani terrorists as they attacked two trains… It was a nightmare for all passengers. Recollection of the incident makes us shiver.” – Survivor Rajinder Kumar, recounting the 1991 train massacres years later.

Many victims were poor workers or families traveling at night; most of those killed were Hindus (the obvious targets of the separatists’ communal hatred) but a few Sikhs died too – either caught in the indiscriminate firing or murdered for defending their fellow passengers. The militants even kidnapped the train drivers and guards on at least one of the trains as they escaped into the darkness, in a bid to delay pursuit. The scale and savagery of the attack sent shockwaves across India and the world.

The massacres occurred just hours after India’s national voting (minus Punjab) had concluded for the day in the ongoing general elections. Their timing was deliberate. Less than five hours after polling closed, the terrorists delivered a bloody message that Punjab would not be allowed to return to normalcy. The following morning, newspapers around the world carried headlines like “Sikhs Storm 2 Trains, Kill 110 in Punjab”. It was clear that the militants’ primary goal was achieved: to terrorize the populace and force authorities to abandon the imminent Punjab elections.

Other Attacks on 15 June 1991

The slaughter on the trains was not the only violence that grim day. June 15, 1991 saw a spate of coordinated terrorist incidents across Punjab, as Khalistani groups went on a rampage to spread maximum fear. In addition to the 110 train victims, at least 11 more people were murdered in separate attacks the same day:

• Assassination of Jatinder Singh (AISSF Leader): Jatinder Singh, an up-and-coming Sikh politician, was gunned down that day. He was an Assembly candidate of the moderate All-India Sikh Students Federation (AISSF) contesting from Chamkaur Sahib in Ropar district. Jatinder was attending a religious congregation at a gurdwara in village Ratlangarhi when two militants barged in and shot him dead inside the shrine. His bodyguard was wounded in the attack. Jatinder Singh’s killing was especially significant – he was the second AISSF candidate assassinated during the campaign, and the 21st election candidate overall to be killed by Khalistani terrorists in 1991. By silencing voices like Jatinder’s, the extremists sought to eliminate any Sikh leaders who opposed their agenda or who were willing to partake in the elections.

• Massacre of a Family in Tarn Taran: In the village of Dhotian (Tarn Taran district), terrorists struck a farmhouse on June 15, killing five members of a single family and one other woman. The motives were not explicitly stated, but such family massacres were a known tactic – often the victims were relatives of police officers or of rival militant factions, or simply Hindu families chosen at random to stoke communal terror. The fact that an entire family, including women, was wiped out underscores the brutality of the insurgents.

• Attack on Police Personnel: Two Punjab Police personnel were ambushed and killed in a separate incident that day (details such as location are scarce). Security forces were a prime target for the militants, and June 15 was no exception – the insurgents sought to demonstrate that even armed police were not safe from their reach.

Punjab’s law enforcement did fight back amidst the chaos. On the night of June 15, in the aftermath of the train attacks, police and security units engaged several of the perpetrators in gun battles. Five terrorists were shot dead on that day in encounters across the region. Among those neutralized was Sukhdev Singh alias “Lali,” identified as an area commander of the Khalistan Commando Force. He and some accomplices were killed in a firefight near the village of Kotla Majha Singh. This was a small but significant victory for the forces – taking down a local militant leader on the same night sent a message that the state was beginning to hit back. But despite these few successes, the damage was done – dozens of innocent lives had been lost in a single day of mayhem.

Punjab awoke on June 16, 1991 to an atmosphere of shock, grief, and boiling anger. Bodies from the train massacres were being identified and cremated in Ludhiana. Hospitals were overflowing with injured survivors, many of them in critical condition. The sheer savagery – unarmed civilians massacred in transit – drew condemnation nationwide. Communities across India, both Hindu and Sikh, mourned the victims. The twin train attacks of June 15 immediately entered infamy as one of the worst terrorist atrocities in independent India’s history.

Fallout: Punjab Polls Cancelled and Military Crackdown

The political fallout of June 15 was swift and decisive. In New Delhi, the Election Commission and central government could no longer in good conscience proceed with the Punjab elections scheduled for the following week. The demand to cancel the polls – which had been growing over preceding days – became overwhelming after the massacres. Leaders across party lines agreed that forcing an election under the shadow of such terror would be impossible. Thus, barely 30 hours before voting was to begin, the Punjab elections were formally cancelled on June 21, 1991. This postponement was considered a severe setback for the return of democracy in Punjab. As one analysis noted, it was a “floundering move” that delayed elected governance and prolonged President’s Rule, but given the circumstances it was unavoidable.

In fact, 29 election candidates had been murdered in Punjab in the run-up to the cancelled polls – nearly all of them by Khalistani hit squads. The terrorists had nearly decimated the field of contestants through intimidation and assassination. June 15 proved to be the final straw, convincing authorities that no candidate or voter could be safe. Prime Minister Chandra Shekhar’s caretaker government, which had initially insisted on forging ahead, bowed to reality and put the Punjab legislative assembly elections on hold indefinitely. (The national parliamentary seats from Punjab were also left vacant for the time being – Narasimha Rao’s new central government, formed on June 21, 1991, took office without Punjab’s MPs, underscoring the state’s isolation.)

With elections aborted, the focus shifted to restoring order. The Indian Army and Punjab Police launched a concerted crackdown on Khalistani militants through the latter half of 1991. Punjab’s infamous supercop K.P.S. Gill was soon brought back to head the state police, and President’s Rule was extended so that security forces had free hand to act. In November 1991, the Disturbed Areas Act was formally imposed, giving the 300,000 security personnel in Punjab wide powers to detain suspects and use lethal force. The state was practically under martial law as the security apparatus intensified operations against the insurgents. The Indian Army fanned out in strength, conducting search-and-destroy missions in rural militant hideouts. Paramilitary units patrolled train lines and highways to prevent a repeat of attacks on transport.

Despite these measures, the terrorists persisted in sporadic massacres. Khalistani guerrillas seemed determined to disrupt any future attempt at elections. Indeed, as 1991 drew on, they struck again with another high-profile atrocity – this time timed just ahead of the rescheduled polls in early 1992.

Another Massacre: The Sohian Train Attack (Dec 1991)

On the evening of 26 December 1991, just two months before Punjab’s assembly elections were finally to be held (in February 1992), Khalistani extremists carried out a carbon-copy of the June train massacres – as if to remind the nation that the terror was far from over. That Thursday, a local passenger train departed Ludhiana heading toward Ferozepur. Among the ordinary travelers, unknown to them, were at least four armed militants riding quietly until the right moment. Around 7:30 PM, as the train neared the village of Sohian (in Ludhiana district), the militants made their move. They pulled the emergency cord inside the coach, bringing the train to a jarring halt at a lonely spot near the Sohian crossing. As the brakes screeched, six more gunmen who had been lying in wait at Sohian quickly climbed aboard the immobilized train from outside.

In a terrifying replay of June 15, the attackers unleashed indiscriminate violence. Armed with AK-47 rifles, they roamed through the train cars hunting for Hindu passengers. According to survivors, the militants shouted at people in Punjabi, demanding to know their identities and checking ID cards. Those who appeared to be Hindu (men wearing the sacred thread, people with Hindu names, etc.) were shot point-blank without hesitation. “The killers separated the Hindus from the Sikhs and shot them at close range,” recounted Hardeep Singh Dhillon, the area’s police chief, describing the carnage. Pure panic ensued – passengers screamed, some tried to hide under seats or crawl away. In the first three coaches, the militants simply sprayed bullets into cowering groups of people. Many riders in the rear coaches, hearing the gunfire, took desperate action – some jumped off the train into the fields. But the ruthless gunmen even chased down a number of fleeing Hindus into the surrounding wheat fields, executing them as they ran.

The killing continued for several minutes before the terrorists decided to slip away. The assailants then forced the locomotive driver out of the train and made sure the train could not move (likely by damaging the engine or holding the driver briefly). Under cover of darkness, the ten terrorists melted away from the scene, disappearing into nearby villages and fields before security forces could respond. As they fled, they left behind a tableau of death and agony.

The Sohian train massacre claimed the lives of 49 passengers (47 of them Hindus) and wounded about 70 others. Some sources initially reported an even higher toll – local officials feared 55 dead and 70 injured in the immediate aftermath. (The final confirmed count was slightly lower, as some critically injured survived.) In any case, it was a massive loss of life. The majority of victims were poor Hindu villagers and daily commuters – ordinary folks slaughtered solely for their religion. Only two Sikhs died, reportedly because they were mistaken for Hindus in the chaos. The brutality was on full display: witnesses described compartments drenched in blood, bodies strewn inside and outside the train. One doctor at Ludhiana Civil Hospital treating the injured described “dozens of people with gunshot wounds…many in serious condition”.

This December attack, coming as it did during the tense run-up to Punjab’s rescheduled elections, had a clear aim – to terrorize Hindus into fleeing Punjab and to frighten voters into staying home. It occurred just two months before the planned February 1992 state elections. The militants wanted to show that despite six months of Army operations, they could still strike at will. Indeed, in November 1991, the central government had sent 140,000 army troops into Punjab as an election security measure, yet the Sohian massacre happened under the noses of this massive deployment – a deeply embarrassing event for the security forces.

The political impact was profound but not what the militants intended. Rather than cancelling the elections again, the Indian government pressed forward and conducted the Punjab Assembly polls in February 1992 under unprecedented security. Turnout was very low (only 21% of voters cast ballots, as most people remained fearful or heeded militant boycott calls). Nonetheless, the elections brought an end to five years of President’s Rule – a government headed by Congress Chief Minister Beant Singh took office, and with KPS Gill’s iron-fisted policing, the back of the insurgency was broken in the following two years. But the blood of the train massacre victims still cried out for justice.

Pakistan’s Hand and Wider Terror Campaign

The gruesome train massacres of 1991 did not occur in isolation. They were part of a broader pattern of sectarian terror unleashed by Khalistani separatists, not just in Punjab but even beyond it. Throughout 1991, extremists deliberately targeted Hindus in a bid to sow communal discord and drive Hindu residents out of Punjab. This ethnic violence was fueled and supported by external forces – most notably Pakistan’s covert agency, the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI). Ever since the mid-1980s, Pakistan’s ISI had been actively backing the Punjab insurgency as a proxy war against India. By 1991, ISI sponsorship of Khalistani militancy was an open secret: Pakistani handlers provided weapons, funding, training camps across the border, and sanctuary to militant leaders. In fact, large quantities of arms that flooded Punjab – assault rifles, machine guns, grenades – were originally funneled through the Afghanistan pipeline during the Soviet-Afghan war and later diverted to Sikh militants with ISI’s connivance. There is “compelling evidence that elements of the Pakistani government” facilitated not only arms transfers but also an “extensive training program” for Khalistani guerrillas on Pakistani soil. Throughout the late ’80s and early ’90s, camps in Pakistan’s Punjab and frontier regions trained Sikh separatists in weaponry and sabotage, enabling them to carry out attacks like those on the trains.

The communal targeting of Hindus was a calculated strategy to trigger an exodus and inflame Hindu-Sikh tensions. Thousands of Hindu families did indeed migrate out of rural Punjab during those years, seeking safety in cities or other states. The terrorists also attempted to expand their terror campaign outside Punjab, into the neighboring Hindi-speaking areas. In October 1991, for example, two bomb explosions attributed to Sikh militants tore through public gatherings in Uttar Pradesh (India’s most populous state), killing at least 55 people. These blasts struck during Hindu festivals, indicating the aim was to kill Hindus and provoke retaliatory hatred against Sikhs. A few months later, on 7 December 1991, Sikh insurgents ambushed travelers at a railway level-crossing in Uttar Pradesh, shooting dead 10 people in a bus – once again, the victims were Hindus singled out by roving gunmen. This signified that by late 1991, Khalistani terror cells had spread into parts of northern Uttar Pradesh, likely with support from sympathizers in pockets where Sikh migrant communities resided. Areas such as Pilibhit and Lakhimpur Kheri (which have sizable Sikh farmer populations since post-Partition resettlement) became new fronts in the insurgency. In these regions, militants received shelter and could launch attacks across state lines. Indian intelligence noted that “pro-Khalistani pockets” in the Terai belt of UP were harboring wanted terrorists. In one notorious incident in 1991, police in Pilibhit district intercepted a group of armed Sikh militants – an encounter that later became controversial – highlighting how far the terror network reached.

Pakistan’s ISI actively encouraged this geographic expansion. Its playbook was to “bleed India by a thousand cuts” – supporting not only Punjab militants but also Kashmiri insurgents and others, hoping to overstretch India’s security forces. Contemporary reports and later investigations revealed that ISI operatives worked to link Khalistani militants with other anti-India terror outfits. For instance, collaborations were pursued between Sikh groups and Pakistan-based Islamic jihadist groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba in the 1990s. The ISI’s Operation “Topac” explicitly aimed to foment rebellion in Punjab as revenge for Pakistan’s past defeats. By training and arming groups such as the Khalistan Commando Force, Khalistan Liberation Force, Babbar Khalsa International, and International Sikh Youth Federation, Pakistan kept the insurgency raging even when local support waned. Training camps, funds, arms, and ammunition were generously provided to these groups by ISI, according to intelligence assessments. In short, the terror in Punjab was not solely a home-grown phenomenon – it had a foreign fuel supply that made it far more potent and protracted.

1991 also underscored the communal nature of the Khalistani militant agenda. Whereas in the early 1980s some militant actions had targeted government officials or specific enemies, by the late ’80s and early ’90s most violent incidents explicitly targeted ordinary Hindus – bus passengers, train commuters, pilgrims, shoppers at markets, wedding guests, and so on – purely because of their religious identity. The militants sought to create an atmosphere reminiscent of the Partition era horrors. As an example beyond the trains: in November 1991, Sikh gunmen attacked a Hindu wedding party near Amritsar, massacring 18 people at the celebration. In another incident in January 1992 (just weeks after the Sohian train attack), militants raided neighborhoods of Hindu migrant laborers in Sangrur, Punjab, killing 20 (including women and children) in one night. The pattern was clear – these were acts of ethnic cleansing, intended to terrorize one community. Human rights organizations noted with alarm that the militants’ carnage violated every norm of warfare, squarely constituting terrorism. The 1991 train massacres remain among the most heinous of these crimes, standing out for the sheer number of civilians slain in cold blood on a single day.

Legacy and Lessons

Thirty-four years later, the Tragedy on Wheels of 1991 is remembered with both grief and outrage. The mass killing of innocents aboard Punjab’s trains shook the nation’s conscience. The sight of rail cars turned into charnel houses – with Hindu passengers singled out and butchered solely for who they were – revealed the depth of brutality that the Khalistani extremists were willing to descend to. It underscored that the Khalistan movement (at least its armed wing) had transformed into a campaign of communal terrorism, not just a separatist insurgency. Even many ordinary Sikhs were horrified by these actions; it is recorded that some Sikh villagers risked their lives to save Hindus during these attacks, and numerous Sikh families quietly sheltered Hindu neighbors through the militancy years. The militants, claiming to fight for Sikh rights, ended up murdering scores of Sikh civilians as well – either inadvertently or in targeted killings of those who opposed them. In the end, Khalistani terror claimed far more innocent lives than any cause could ever justify.

From a security standpoint, the 1991 massacres prompted India to refine its counter-terrorism response. The cancellation of the 1991 Punjab elections, though a setback to democracy, gave security forces time to launch Operation Night Dominance – a concerted push to eliminate militant leadership by 1992-93. By 1993, the back of the insurgency was largely broken, thanks in part to intelligence-driven operations that stemmed the flow of arms from Pakistan and neutralized top commanders. However, remnants of the Khalistan terror network persisted underground and abroad. In fact, occasional terror modules have continued to be interdicted even decades later – for example, in 2023, police in Uttar Pradesh and Punjab jointly killed three operatives of the Khalistan Zindabad Force (KZF) in an encounter in Pilibhit. The Punjab DGP stated they were “ISI-backed operatives” tasked with reviving militancy. Such incidents show that the ideology behind these 1991 atrocities is not entirely extinguished, and vigilant security measures remain necessary.

Most importantly, the legacy of June 15, 1991 serves as a sobering reminder of the horrors of communal hatred and terrorism. The targeted killing of one community by extremists from another hearkened back to the darkest chapters of the 1947 Partition. But Indians by and large refused to be divided. In the aftermath of the train massacres, there were indeed some scattered retaliatory attacks on Sikhs in places, but India did not spiral into communal war – a testament to the restraint of the public and the leadership of the time. Sikh and Hindu communities in Punjab slowly rebuilt trust as peace was restored in the mid-1990s. Memorials for victims have been held quietly – for instance, railway staff at Kilaraipur station still organize an annual “chhabeel” (refreshment service) and prayers in memory of the 80 Hindus killed on June 15, 1991. Such gestures symbolize hope that empathy can triumph over hatred.

In reflecting on the 34th anniversary of the 1991 train massacres, one must adopt a strong editorial stance: these acts of violence were unequivocally heinous and stand condemned in the strongest terms. The Khalistani terrorists of that era carried out mass murder in the name of a misguided cause. They did not just attack “the state” or “the system” – they targeted defenseless people: farmers, laborers, elderly pilgrims, children heading to visit grandparents. There can be no excuse or legitimization for such barbarity. The events of 15 June 1991 and 26 December 1991 remind us what happens when extremism, bigotry, and vengeance overtake basic humanity. It is a cautionary tale of how terrorism can rot a society from within, and how a combination of community resilience and firm state action is needed to defeat it.

Punjab ultimately emerged from that nightmare, scarred but intact. The 110 lives lost on that summer night in 1991 – and the 49 more lost that winter – will not be forgotten. We honor their memory by telling the truth about those events, by remembering the names of the victims, and by acknowledging the suffering of their families who never saw justice fully done (many perpetrators were killed in police operations, but some escaped or remained unidentified). We also honor them by ensuring that such a tragedy never recurs – by remaining vigilant against terrorism and by fostering unity among communities.

As India looks back on the “Tragedy on Wheels” after 34 years, the nation mourns the innocents and reaffirms an unwavering stance: there is no place in a civilized society for the kind of hate-fueled carnage that the Khalistani terrorists inflicted. The story of 1991 is both a memorial and a lesson – a memorial for those who perished, and a lesson in why we must continue to root out violent extremism of all forms. Punjab, the land of saints and martyrs, refused to be driven apart by these fanatics. In the end, the killers failed to achieve their aims. But the cost paid in human lives was immense.

Let history record with clarity and condemnation: the gruesome killing of 110 train passengers, mostly Hindus, in Punjab on June 15, 1991 was an act of terror that changed the course of Punjab’s destiny, and its 34th anniversary compels us to remember and to pledge – Never Again.

References

• “Sikhs Storm 2 Trains, Kill 110 in Punjab.” Los Angeles Times, June 16, 1991. (By Mark Fineman)
• Mahesh Sharma. “Kila Raipur rly staff remember 1991 massacre victims.” The Tribune (Chandigarh), June 16, 2017.
• “110 in two trains gunned down by Punjab militants.” The Indian Express, June 16, 1991, p.1.
• “74 were killed in Punjab train carnage.” The Indian Express, June 17, 1991, p.5.
• Barbara Crossette. “Extremists in India Kill 80 on 2 Trains as Voting Nears End.” The New York Times, June 16, 1991.
• Edward A. Gargan. “49 Slain by Gunmen on Train in India.” The New York Times, Dec 27, 1991
• “55 killed in Sikh attack on train.” Associated Press report in Tampa Bay Times, Dec 27, 1991
• India Today magazine. “Decision to postpone poll may hamper revival of democratic process in Punjab.” (Cover Story, by Kanwar Sandhu), July 15, 1991
• “Democracy ushered in despite low turnout.” The Tribune, Jan 8, 2017
• India: Chronology of Events (Feb 1991 – Nov 1994). Immigration and Refugee Board of Canada / Refworld, 1995
• Human Rights Watch/Asia. Arms and Abuses in Indian Punjab and Kashmir. HRW Arms Project Report, September 1994
• “Khalistan and the Militant Movements in Punjab – A Chronological Account.” Insight UK, 2021
• “Terrorists killed in Pilibhit encounter were ISI-backed operatives of KZF: Punjab DGP.” Times of India, Dec 23, 2024
• “India’s Sikh Militants Forming Ties with Lashkar-e-Taiba and Pakistani Intelligence.” Jamestown Foundation Terrorism Monitor, Vol. 7, Issue 3, 2009
• Anurag. “Tragedy on Wheels: Remembering the gruesome killing of 110 train passengers… (34th anniversary).” OpIndia, June 15, 2025.