The letter that Bhagat Singh wrote

Among Bhagat Singh’s scattered writings and letters, one relatively obscure piece addressed to his friend Amar Chand, then living in America, in mid-1928 offers a revealing moment of inner tension. In it, Singh thrice invokes God, a gesture that seems at odds with the resolute atheism he would later declare in his 1930 essay, ‘Why I Am an Atheist’. The phrases “Ishwar jane”, “Ishwar chaha to” and “Jis tarah Ishwar ko manzoor hoga” appear within a tender and emotionally intimate letter — one that discusses his mother’s illness, conveys goodwill to a friend overseas, and reflects on personal aspirations and hardships. There is no political polemic or ideological proclamation, only an unguarded voice briefly heard. And yet, these casual invocations of Ishwar, however faint, are windows into the dynamic, human process of ideological transformation. Bhagat Singh’s atheism was forged in the fire — of struggle, surveillance and sacrifice, through arrest, censorship, hunger strikes, and death’s proximity. His stance was sculpted by lived experience.

Most biographers have either overlooked or dismissed this moment, preferring a seamless narrative of ideological certainty. But it is precisely here, in this moment of possible ambiguity, that we glimpse the making of a revolutionary subjectivity.

In May 1927, Bhagat Singh was unexpectedly arrested in Lahore under suspicion of involvement in the Kakori conspiracy and a bomb attack during the 1926 Dasehra celebrations. Detained in solitary confinement, he faced intense psychological pressure, including threats of capital punishment and inducements to turn an informer. He was even urged to seek solace in religion.

In the letter, Bhagat Singh refers to his release on a bail bond of Rs 60,000 and writes that a year has passed without any charges being filed. This places the letter in late June or early July 1928 — one year after his release on July 4, 1927. Correcting the date — misdated by key editors, most notably Virender Sindhu, who placed it in 1927 — is not a mere bibliographical exercise. It reshapes the context of the letter, locating it within a precarious phase of Bhagat Singh’s life marked by surveillance, uncertainty, and emotional vulnerability.

“Meri daak rukti hai. Patar khol liye jaate hain (My letters are stopped. They are opened),” he writes. This was not paranoia but reality: Bhagat Singh knew he was being watched. The presence of religious phrasing in such a context cannot be read at face value. What may appear to be a theological gesture may, in fact, be a rhetorical deflection — an instinctive or calculated act of self-censorship.

The question thus lingers: why would Bhagat Singh, known for his rhetorical precision and ideological clarity, who by 1930 would reject all forms of divine belief, invoke Ishwar at all, even obliquely? That invocation stands in quiet contrast to the clarity of his later affirmation in ‘Why I Am an Atheist’, written while imprisoned in the Lahore Conspiracy Case:

“Now I was an atheist, and I had to pass through a difficult test. The temptation was great… But I was a staunch disbeliever and have been ever since.”

In the essay, published posthumously in Lala Lajpat Rai’s paper The People in 1931, he identifies his 1927 arrest as the beginning of his ideological transformation. In it, Bhagat Singh mounts a fearless critique of religion — its metaphysical evasions, its alliance with conservatism, and its incompatibility with revolutionary ethics. Atheism, for him, is not simply disbelief. It is a conscious, ethical and intellectual commitment. He draws upon thinkers like Bakunin and Emma Goldman to articulate a vision of atheism rooted in political clarity, intellectual courage, and philosophical responsibility. His rejection of religion is neither flippant nor iconoclastic — it is disciplined, deeply considered, and historically situated.

To reconcile the Amar Chand letter with the later essay, three plausible readings emerge. First, the language may be seen as a residual colloquialism. Religious phrases permeate the North Indian idiom, often uttered unconsciously, even by those who do not profess belief. But Bhagat Singh was no casual writer. He laboured over his words, even in personal letters. To dismiss his invocation of Ishwar as mere habit is to underestimate his linguistic discipline.

Second, the letter may reflect a phase of transitional atheism — a moment in which Singh was still navigating the emotional and cultural nuances of his upbringing. Ideological change is rarely instantaneous. The Amar Chand letter, then, becomes a document of transition — of someone becoming rather than already made.

Third, knowing that colonial officials would read the letter, Singh may have employed religious phrasing as camouflage, soothing language meant to deflect suspicion or downplay subversive intent.

Each of these readings illuminates the complexity of ideological formation under conditions of surveillance. And they converge to challenge the notion of Bhagat Singh as a thinker born fully formed, untouched by ambiguity, and the streamlined image of a heroic figure shorn of contradictions. For, revolutions are made by human beings in struggle with the world, with power, and with themselves.

Other writings from the same period reinforce this view of a young man in intellectual and emotional evolution. His essays on anarchism, published in Kirti between May and July 1928, explore the philosophical underpinnings of revolution and freedom, hinting at an emerging worldview that would soon crystallise in his later writings.

In letters to his younger brother Kultar Singh, written from prison in his final months, Bhagat Singh speaks tenderly and protectively, more like an elder brother than a polemicist. These are letters of feeling, not ideology. And taken alongside the Amar Chand letter, they reveal a man still forming his voice, forging his stance through pain, care, reading, and reflection.

Editorial choices shape memory. What is footnoted, omitted, or sanitised defines how generations encounter their heroes. The Amar Chand letter, rarely cited and never deeply analysed, has fallen victim to this desire for ideological purity.

His invocation of Ishwar in 1928 was not a failure of belief but a trace of his journey toward disbelief. His atheism was not born in rejection alone — it was forged in the crucible of reading, thinking, hunger strikes, and prison.

Bhagat Singh’s atheism and his momentary invocation of God are not mutually exclusive — they are facets of a life in motion. His writings reveal not a perfected doctrine but a transformative arc — one that calls on us to see revolution as a process, not purity. In recognising that, we do not weaken his legacy. We enrich it.

And in doing so, we must also extend our gratitude to Amar Chand. It was he who preserved this letter. Without his care, we would have been denied this rare glimpse into a moment of ideological flux, emotional honesty, and existential pause.

Thanks to him, we are reminded that the revolutionary is not only the one who acts, but also the one who feels, who falters, who evolves — and who leaves behind not only manifestos, but moments. And sometimes, it is the survival of such fragile moments that speaks the loudest.

— The writer is a Chandigarh-based publisher and author

My dear brother Amar Chandji,

Namaste

This time, I returned home suddenly because of my mother’s illness. It also allowed me to meet your respected mother. I read your letter today. I had written on her behalf, and that has given me the opportunity to write a few lines of my own. What should I really say?

Karam Singh has gone to England. I am sending his address. He has written that he wants to study law, but how he plans to manage that, ‘Ishwar jane’ (God alone knows). The expenses are enormous.

As for myself, the desire to go abroad for further studies proved to be more harmful than helpful. But I still send you my heartfelt wishes. If possible, I would be grateful if you could send me some good books. Surely, there must be a wealth of literature in America. Though I understand you must be completely immersed in your studies these days. Perhaps from around San Francisco, you might find some news about Sardarji [Sardar Ajit Singh]. Do make an effort — at the very least, it will be a relief to know that he is alive.

For now, I’m leaving for Lahore. If you find the time, do write to me. My address is: Sutar Mandi, Lahore.

What else can I write? My situation has been far from normal. I’ve been caught up in all sorts of troubles. The earlier case was finally withdrawn. Then I was arrested again. This time, I was released on a bail bond of sixty thousand rupees. No case has been filed against me so far — and, ‘Ishwar ne chaha to’ (if God wills), none shall be. It’s been nearly a year (‘Aaj ek baras hone ko aaya’), but my bail bond hasn’t yet been cancelled. They are harassing me unnecessarily. (This line has been struck off.) Everything, in the end, is subject to His will (‘Jis tarah Ishwar ko manzoor hoga’).

Yours sincerely,

Bhagat Singh

P.S. What else can I say about myself? I have been unjustly made a target of suspicion. My letters are being intercepted; my correspondence is being opened. I cannot understand what has made them so suspicious of me. But I believe the truth shall emerge, and it will prevail in the end.

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