Today, 18 September, marks the birth anniversary of Madan Lal Dhingra, a young revolutionary from Amritsar who, at just 25 years of age, became one of the most striking figures of India’s revolutionary movement in Britain. Born in 1883 in Amritsar, Punjab, Dhingra came from a prosperous and well-established family. His father, Dr. Ditta Mal Dhingra, was a respected civil surgeon who served under the British administration. Dhingra received a good education and later travelled to England to study mechanical engineering at University College London. But his time in Britain exposed him to a very different political environment. Through India House, he came into contact with Indian nationalists and revolutionaries such as Shyamji Krishna Varma and Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, and his thinking about India’s condition and British rule gradually changed. The young student who had gone to London to build a professional career increasingly became involved in the revolutionary movement for India’s independence.

On the evening of 1 July 1909, Madan Lal Dhingra attended an annual reception of the National Indian Association at the Imperial Institute in South Kensington, London. There he encountered William Hutt Curzon Wyllie, a senior British official associated with the India Office. Historical records indicate that Dhingra had spent part of that afternoon at a shooting gallery on Tottenham Court Road, before going to the reception. As the event ended, he approached Curzon Wyllie and fired several shots at him. Wyllie was killed, and Dr. Cawas Lalcaca, a Parsi physician who attempted to intervene, was also fatally shot. he was arrested at the scene.

But if we remember Madan Lal Dhingra only because he killed a British official, we miss the deeper question his life presents to us. What happens when a young person becomes deeply conscious of the condition of his country? Dhingra was not born into a family that needed him to become a revolutionary. He had education, privilege and a promising future available to him. Yet his experiences, his political awakening and his association with India’s revolutionary circles convinced him that the question of India’s freedom was greater than his own personal ambitions. After his arrest, his case was brought before the Central Criminal Court, commonly known as the Old Bailey, in London. His trial took place on 23 July 1909. Dhingra refused legal representation, did not call a defence, and accepted responsibility for the shooting while using the proceedings to explain his political beliefs. The trial was extremely brief, lasting less than an hour and a half, and he was sentenced to death. He was subsequently taken to Pentonville Prison in London, where he was hanged on 17 August 1909. Thus, within just a few weeks of the shooting, the life of a young engineering student from Amritsar had come to an end. His revolutionary path had brought him into conflict with his family as well, and historical accounts record that his father publicly disowned him because of his activities. The more we understand the young man behind the historical incident, the more important the questions raised by his short life become.

The most revealing document for understanding Madan Lal Dhingra is the statement associated with his trial and execution, often reproduced under the title “Challenge.” In it, Dhingra explained his action according to his own understanding of colonial rule. He argued that a nation held under foreign military power was effectively in a state of war, that Indians had been denied the means of conventional warfare, and that he had therefore acted individually. He invoked his conscience, his sense of duty, his understanding of Hindu religious duty and his devotion to the motherland. His statement also expressed his belief that he had offered his own life because he had nothing greater to give. A contemporary historical account records that Dhingra wanted his prepared statement read out and that it circulated in newspapers after his execution.

I admit, the other day, I attempted to shed English blood as a humble revenge for the inhuman hangings and deportations of patriotic Indian youths. In this attempt I have consulted none but my own conscience; I have conspired with none but my own duty. I believe that a nation held in bondage with the help of foreign bayonets is in perpetual state of war. Since open battle is rendered impossible to a disarmed race, I attacked by surprise; since guns were denied to me, I drew forth my pistol and fired. As a Hindu, I feel that a wrong done to my country is an insult to God. Poor in health and intellect, a son like myself has nothing to offer to the Mother but his own blood, and so I have sacrificed the same on her altar. Her cause is the cause of Shri Rama. Her services are the services of Shri Krishna. This War of Independence will continue between India and England so long as the Hindu and the English races last (if this present unnatural relation does not cease). The only lesson required in India at present is to learn how to die and the only way to teach it is by dying ourselves. Therefore I die and glory to my martyrdom. My only prayer to God is: may I be reborn of the same Mother and may I re-die in the same sacred cause till the cause is successful and she stands free for the good of humanity and the glory of God. Vande Mataram!

What stands out most in his statement is his deep sense of personal responsibility. He believed that the struggle for his country was not somebody else’s responsibility. He did not see himself merely as a spectator waiting for leaders to act. He believed that his conscience had given him a duty towards his country and that he had to accept the consequences of his decision himself. We do not need to agree with the violent method he chose, especially because today’s India is an independent constitutional democracy, but we can still understand the seriousness with which a young man thought about his responsibility towards his country.

He also described British rule from the perspective of someone living under colonial domination. When he spoke about a nation being held in bondage by foreign bayonets and about the impossibility of an open battle for a disarmed people, he was explaining why he believed revolutionary action was necessary. His words reveal the political environment in which he had developed his beliefs. He saw the sacrifices and repression experienced by Indian nationalists and interpreted them as part of a larger struggle for independence. His reference to Shri Rama, Shri Krishna and the Motherland shows how deeply his political ideas were connected with his spiritual and cultural understanding of duty and sacrifice. But there is another part of his statement that deserves particular attention from today’s youth: his willingness to sacrifice his own comfort, future and ultimately his life for an idea larger than himself. Dhingra was a young student. He had a future ahead of him, yet he believed that the freedom of his country was more important than his personal life. He ultimately faced execution without abandoning the beliefs that had led him there. That level of conviction is what makes his words historically significant.

However, the meaning of sacrifice must change with the times. Today’s youth does not need to sacrifice life; today’s youth needs to sacrifice ignorance, laziness, distraction and indifference. We live in a free India, and our responsibilities are therefore different. We have the Constitution, democratic institutions, elections, courts, education, technology and the freedom to express our views. The challenge before us is to understand these systems and use them responsibly.

When Dhingra spoke about a struggle continuing until India became free, he was speaking about the colonial struggle of his time. That particular struggle ended with India’s independence in 1947. But the larger work of building the India that generations of freedom fighters dreamed about is still unfinished. In that sense, the struggle has changed, not continued in the same form. Today’s struggle is against ignorance, corruption, poverty, addiction, misinformation, social divisions, unemployment, exploitation and the failure to make full use of our country’s potential.

Think about what today’s Indian youth possesses that Madan Lal Dhingra’s generation could never have imagined. He had books, meetings, newspapers and limited communication networks. Today’s student has the world’s libraries in a smartphone. A young person can learn engineering, medicine, economics, law, history, artificial intelligence or programming from anywhere. One person can create an application that reaches millions. One researcher can publish information globally. One journalist can investigate an issue. One entrepreneur can create employment. One citizen can use lawful democratic mechanisms to demand accountability. Our generation does not need to pick up a weapon to create change. We need to pick up knowledge.

This is especially important for Punjab’s youth. Punjab has a long history of young people participating in India’s political and revolutionary movements. But the revolutionary spirit of Punjab should not become anger without direction. It should become education, discipline, scientific thinking, entrepreneurship, courage and responsibility. Punjabi youth should be able to travel abroad, study abroad and build successful lives around the world. There is nothing wrong with that. But a society must also ask why so many young people feel that their only path to a meaningful future is to leave. The answer should not be to blame those who migrate. The answer should be to create a Punjab where young people can also find reasons to stay, return and build.

And that is where the question becomes uncomfortable:

What are we doing with the freedom for which Dhingra and thousands of others sacrificed their lives?

They sacrificed education, careers, families, wealth, freedom and ultimately life itself. Many never saw the independent India they imagined. Madan Lal Dhingra died at 24. We inherited the freedom they never got to experience. But what are we giving back to the country?

• Are we educating ourselves and understanding that how our political system works?
• Do we know how public money is spent and how laws are made?
• Do we understand economics and know how to identify misinformation?
• Can we question a claim even when it supports our own beliefs?
• Are we building businesses, institutions, research and solutions—or spending our youth fighting each other on social media while others decide the direction of our society?

This is where we believe Madan Lal Dhingra’s revolutionary spirit can be reinterpreted for our generation. We do not need to repeat the violence of colonial times. We need to carry forward the qualities of courage, conviction, sacrifice and political awareness through peaceful and democratic means. The battlefield has changed. The tools have changed. The responsibility remains.

Today’s young Indian’s weapon can be a book. It can be a computer. It can be artificial intelligence. It can be a camera, a research paper, a business, a scientific discovery, a legal petition, a documentary, a classroom, a farm using modern technology, or a simple question asked honestly to a powerful institution. Our shield should be truth. Our strength should be knowledge. Our method should be democratic action.

Dhingra’s generation asked how India could become free. Our generation has to ask what we are going to do with that freedom. Independence was not the finish line. It was the beginning of the responsibility to build a country where freedom has meaning in the everyday lives of its people. If corruption continues, we must understand the systems that permit it. If education is failing, we must understand why. If young people are leaving, we must understand the economic and social conditions behind that migration. If drugs are destroying communities, we must confront the causes rather than merely blame the victims. If misinformation is spreading, we must develop citizens capable of distinguishing truth from propaganda.

The greatest tribute to a young revolutionary is therefore not simply to praise his courage once a year. It is to ask ourselves what courage means in our own time.

Madan Lal Dhingra once believed that he had only his own blood to offer to the Motherland. We have something he never had: an extraordinary amount of knowledge, technology, freedom and opportunity. We do not have to give our lives. We have to give our time, our intelligence, our skills, our honesty and our commitment to building.

So on 18 September, on the birth anniversary of Madan Lal Dhingra, perhaps the question should not simply be “How brave was he?”

The question should be:

“How responsibly are we using the freedom for which he was willing to die?”

The revolution of 1909 belonged to another India. The revolution of today must be the revolution of education, truth, technology, accountability and nation-building. And if today’s youth truly wants to honour those who sacrificed for India, perhaps the greatest way is not to die for the country. It is to live intelligently enough, courageously enough and honestly enough to build the country they never got to see.

Recommended Reading

For anyone who wants to understand Madan Lal Dhingra beyond short biographies and social-media posts, V. N. Datta’s Madan Lal Dhingra and the Revolutionary Movement is worth reading. Dhingra’s life becomes much more meaningful when studied in the context of the wider revolutionary movement, India House and the political environment of Indians living in Britain at the beginning of the twentieth century.