Partition, 1947; by Ashish Chandra, Yogesh Chandra.

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Partition, 1947

by Ashish Chandra (Author),

Yogesh Chandra (Narrator).

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The biggest surprise might just be that the book is unexpected. It's not a general discourse with large canvas, but very personal.

The book is written by a Hindu of India, based, the author states, on true stories related by an elder who lived through the partition era.

But, for some reason, instead of what the true account must therefore have been, I.e., that of refugees from North West India, it's been turned around and fictionalised into one of community of poor muslims from Gangetic planes.

Is that due to an agenda of turning everything around to an anti-Hindu politics? It's unclear, because much of the story as it develops on refugees' arrival isn't as it happened in Indian side. Instead it seems like a real experience of refugees hoping to do better in a homeland for muslims, and finding it otherwise, attempting to return home. This did happen to many, acknowledged or not.

But instead, the true story comes at the reader at a startling angle - stories heard by those returning to India accompanied by refugees from North West.

Just as one thinks ones got it, there's another twist. It's a political diatribe after all, indicting so-called right wing politics, or Hindu organisatons, in India.

Halfway through, another twist - one begins to enjoy the unexpectedly humorous turn. And then again, yet another unexpected turn around, devastating this time.

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CONTENTS

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Contents

Preface

Chapter 1 - Seekri Buzurg

Chapter 2 – Life As We Knew It

Chapter 3 – Hindustan, Pakistan

Chapter 4 – Chai, Bidi and Giddiness

Chapter 5 - The Journey: To

Chapter 6 - Land of the Pure – Welcome to Pakistan

Chapter 7 - The Journey: From

Chapter 8 - Home

Chapter 9 - Reunion

Chapter 10 - Police at the Doorstep

Chapter 11 - Refugees, Again

Chapter 12 – I Spy – Now I See You, Now I Don’t

Chapter 13 - Ups and Downs

Chapter 14 - Chaiti Attha

Chapter 15 - Monsoon Luck

Chapter 16 - Goodbye Mon Ami

Chapter 17 - Coda Tailpiece

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REVIEW

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Preface

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"India gained its independence in 1947: big events often get pigeon-holed as great singular occurrences in history. The millions of threads that hang on to these events, nay that are born out of these events, are never remembered. History is then repeated, and learnt, by these big occurrences and what led to them. It is we, the inheritors of our forefathers’ memories, that recall these threads that had once shaken the earth under the feet of our ancestors. And a parallel stream of history, dismissed and , sometimes, abused by professional historians, continues to flow and grow perpetually.

"This story is an attempt to preserve, for no other reason than as a historical record tied to real people, one of these threads - a series of events that took place in another part of India in 1947.

"Based on a true story."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 1 - Seekri Buzurg

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"The most important village landmark, today, is a tall murti (idol) of Hanumanji. The murti stands in a small village ashram founded by a villager who took sannyas (vows of a Hindu renunciate) but later chose to come back to the village and founded this ashram."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 2 – Life As We Knew It

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" ... Ali Hasan said with a tone of resignation, ‘Syeda, I will not go anywhere but if you want to go, then with a heavy heart, I will give you my permission and my blessings. It is a good thing your ammi (mother) is not alive or she would never have agreed to let you leave.’

"Syeda was aware that most of his fellow Muslims of the village were too attached to their homes and to the village to even contemplate leaving. He too knew that he would be leaving behind everything he had known all his life. However, the idea of Pakistan was too fantastic for Syeda to be left unexplored. ... Mehndi had expressed the same mixed feelings – the pull of the new land and the accompanying uncertainty of leaving behind what was familiar – about Pakistan."

"It was still July 1947. India was destined to become independent in a matter of weeks. Muslims throughout India had great expectations from this new land, only for Muslims, called Pakistan. Perhaps, "expectations" as a feeling would not suffice here. The emotion attached to the formation of Pakistan, a land of the pure, was almost like asking to see God, and then getting your wish granted! The ecstasy most Muslims felt at its creation cannot, now, be captured in words."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 3 – Hindustan, Pakistan

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"The gathering wound up with many of the attendees uncertain about how they felt. Would they be asked to leave? Would they have to leave even if they were asked? Could they go to a different village and settle there – maybe a Muslim village nearby? What – leave their village? Never! No one was clear anymore about what he should do, and with that confusion, the men headed to their homes."

"‘But who is asking you to go anywhere chacha’, asked Somnath. ‘This is your home and you stay here. No one will ask you to go anywhere unless you yourselves want to leave’, continued Ram Kumar."

" ... The conversation continued over tea with the Muslims reemphasizing how they had nothing to do with Pakistan and would live and die in the village. Somnath educated the assembly about the news on the radio: trainloads of refugees were pouring into Punjab and Delhi, from Pakistan. Hundreds of thousands had been killed coming to India. ... "

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 4 – Chai, Bidi and Giddiness

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"There are, amongst us, the thrill-seekers and the adventurists. Those for who terms like “don’t take risks” and “better safe than sorry” have absolutely no meaning. From yonder comes the beckoning holding the promise of unimagined rewards, and at once the here-and-now is rendered mundane, and soon thereafter, intolerable.

"People like Syeda and Mehndi could not be restrained or discouraged. They found it hard to contain the ecstasy of the "land of the pure" bubbling up within them. Pakistan! Land of the Pure! Run by the laws given by the Holy Prophet! Where every Muslim would live as per the Shariat."

" ... Sakina kept quiet. She did not have the courage to leave the village behind but all the same, she wanted her children to have a better life. Syeda knew that his argument was working. ‘This is what I and Mehndi are thinking. We will go alone first and get ourselves settled there. Once we have a place to stay, and have some money saved up, we will come back for our families’, Syeda continued. ‘If you think that is best for us, then do it but I would still urge you to think this over a few times. The lure of the unknown very often leads to disasters’, said Sakina."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 5 - The Journey: To

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"The railway platform was choked with people. In this time, most of the trains were being used to transport refugees to and from Pakistan, so Dhampur, which in itself saw no great swath of humanity trying to migrate to Pakistan, hadn't seen a train come by in over three days! Two more days were to pass before a train, bound for Delhi, was announced. When the train did pull into the platform, the waiting sea of humanity approached it even as a wave approaches the shore: only to fling itself, in the end, towards its goal. Fairly soon, every nook and cranny of the train was packed with people and their luggage. ... "

"Delhi was full of Muslims - not residents but refugees. The office of the Registrar for Refugees looked every bit like a railway platform: the poor and the destitute with their overstuffed bundles of luggage, women – veiled, and some with an infant cradling at their hips – and the elderly, with white beards, missing mustaches and white skullcaps to complete the devout Muslim look.

"Some overzealous Muslims amongst the crowd could also be seen trying every bit to prove how strictly they adhered to the rules of the Sharia – they wore Arabic gowns and looked well off – and gazed with contemptuous eyes at the multitude that overwhelmed that office that morning. Bureaucracy loves queues, and the crowds were sifted into extraordinarily long queues leading to the clerks’ desks. Individuality appeared to be the casualty of the times: an unlettered mass of humanity unquestioningly led by the frenzy of religion and the idea of a holy land towards a clutch of official papers that were to designate them as bound for Pakistan. ... "

"The train for Lahore, when it did come three days later, was extraordinarily long. It had thirty-two bogies and two engines! In no time, all the bogies, and their roofs, were teeming with people. A coach at the front and a coach at the end of the train had been reserved for an army unit, deployed on such trains to ensure they reached their destination with their travelers alive. The train was now full, and full of talk: of what awaited the refugees, of how many refugees on such trains had been killed, and so on. Special prayers were said to ensure the train, and its passengers, encountered no mishap along the journey to Pakistan."

" ... no one really knew how it started, but very quickly, a story spread through the train, perhaps a little magnified at each hop, that Sikhs were planning to waylay the train and kill everyone on it. Each installment of this news traveled with increasing gore through the thirty-two bogies. Again, Allah's mercy was invoked upon his believers, and the passengers' fears gradually subsided."

" ... There were people traveling on the roof of the train, there were people in the vestibule area that connects two bogeys. In fact, there were people everywhere. The train had arrived at Amritsar in the morning and it stayed there all day. For understandable reasons, both the Indian and the Pakistani sides had determined that it was safer for trails to ply at night, with their lights switched off. So, it was only very late in the night that the train, choked with refugees now, left Amritsar, India for Lahore, Pakistan."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 6 - Land of the Pure – Welcome to Pakistan

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" ... Thankfully, the camp served one meal a day. However, if you wanted to eat more than once, you had to fend for yourself. The old, British, currency, with pictures of King George VI, hadn't yet been replaced with the new (Pakistani) currency, so it could still be used. In this sea of people, all hungry and huddled together, appeared the locals, wanting to turn a profit. Bread was available at three times its normal price, milk at five times."

"The refugees spoke in many different accents but a very large majority came from the Hindi speaking areas of India. Although they could not speak Urdu, Syeda and Mehndi understood enough of it to communicate with their co-refugees. But Urdu wasn't a popular language in Lahore, they soon learnt. The locals spoke in Punjabi.

"The Pakistani Army was everywhere. Most of the army men spoke in Punjabi although the officers could also speak in Urdu. Unexpectedly, the army was often rough with the refugees. Both Syeda and Mehndi soon became accustomed to a new word the locals, the army included, used for them – Mohajir (outsider).

"It isn’t hard for an average Muslim to identify himself (or herself) as separate from others given that the idea of Ummah is well-ingrained in him (her). However, this separation could work when the “other” was a non-Muslim. For the people in that camp, it was perhaps unfathomable that they were looked upon as intruders and a burden by the locals. They had left a lot behind – entire lives – in India and were ready to embrace an unknown people in an unknown land just because they happened to be all Muslims, and the land happened to be Pakistan."

"Syeda and Mehndi were getting accustomed to Lahore. Its ways, its people - they had even started picking up a little Punjabi. They were Pakistanis now, after all, and thought they should learn everything they could about their new home. But what they could never shake off was the look of outsiders that the locals gave them. Their language gave them away in minutes and the word mohajir followed them everywhere. How can we be outsiders, aren't we all Muslims? They often wondered how Muslims could be outsiders in a land specially made for them. Conversations with their co-refugees told them a similar story: they were looked upon as outsiders, and the locals weren't as welcoming of them as they had fantasized."

"One morning, a senior official from the refugee office arrived, along with a convoy of soldiers. "You will be leaving this camp in five days and be going to Karachi. Make sure you pack your belongings. Report to the refugee office no later than tomorrow afternoon to get your papers for Karachi", said the official. "Where is Karachi? Why are we going there? When will we get some land for farming?" were some of the questions that could be heard in the chaos the official's announcement had caused amongst the refugees. Frustration, especially the kind that comes after great expectations go unrealized, easily turns to anger. The mob of refugees, with frustrations pent up the last few weeks, turned violent and started to riot. "We are not going anywhere until you give us what was promised - land", the mob cried. They were all alluding to the land left behind by Hindu and Sikh refugees that the Pakistan government had announced would be given to the refugees from India.

"No warning was given, no announcement was made on a loudspeaker. What everyone could remember, later, was the charge of the soldiers. Using the butts of their rifles, and lathis (canes), the soldiers rammed into the rioting mob. Peasant instincts around self-preservation soon took over, and everyone scattered in front of authority. Those who were lucky had flesh wounds. Others, not so fortunate, suffered broken bones and bleeding heads."

" ... "Brother, what kind of place have we come to? We thought that Pakistan was the land of milk and honey but here we are called mohajirs and beaten up", said Mehndi. He had suffered a severe blow to his leg but thankfully, it wasn't broken. Night fell upon the camp, but sleep didn't come easily to anyone. All that could be heard in that mass of refugees were cries of pain. What a soul-crushing day it had been!"

" ... All things being equal, the discussion could just as easily have been about the barbarity of the Sikhs or the treachery of the Hindus. But today was a different day. Each person wanted to hear something good about what they had left behind, and in so doing, apply a soothing balm to their wounds, both seen and unseen. Women came together to make tea for everyone around them, followed by a meal. Everyone was trying to hold on to someone else, and in so doing, find a way to keep going. A lot had been left behind in India, not all of it material. Today, they all wanted to collectively believe that their decision to come to Pakistan, despite their suffering, wasn't a mistake."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 7 - The Journey: From

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" ... "We work all day, like a donkey. We eat only ghaas-phoos (greens and vegetables available cheaply) just like a donkey. Then we get beaten up, like donkeys! Is this what we came here for? We were better off at home", exclaimed Mehndi. In both their recollections, this was the first time they had referred to their village as home. Syeda agreed with Mehndi - "you are right, we were tailors at home, here we are donkeys"."

"The decision to go back to Seekri Buzurg, to India, when made, wasn't a difficult one. It was not arrived at with any great intellectual debate or mental tumult about its pros and cons. It was simply a realization of the unlettered, of an innocent stock of people who may not have known the world, but who understood that what had been left behind was far better than what their present offered.

"It was not easy to go back to India, they both understood that. Lahore was only thirty kilometers from the India-Pakistan border but they both understood that it would not be easy to cross over. They could not simply join the lines of Hindu and Sikh refugees that were still packing trains headed from Pakistan to India. It was just too dangerous - what if they were discovered as Muslims? What if the officials on the Indian side checked them, asked them about Hinduism or the Sikh religion, just to verify that they were who they said they were? What if someone asked them to drop their pants? No, it was just too risky to go with the refugees headed to India. Another way had to be found."

" ... "Will there be a problem in crossing the border?", asked Mehndi. "No, not at all. Meet us in the afternoon, next Friday, in front of the Lahore railway station in Garhi Shahu. From there, we will walk to a village near the border. Mannu here has a relative in that village whose farm is right on the border. We will cross the border in the night, walk to Amritsar and then stay there for the day. After watching the film, we will wait until nightfall and come back the same way", explained one of the boys. "Isn't the Indian army going to stop us?" asked Mehndi. "Don't worry, there is no one there. Their army is too busy with refugees right now. Their closest check-post is at least five kilometers away and there are no patrols. We have done this several times. Don't worry, we are there, we will ensure nothing happens to you", said one of the boys, bravado clearly audible in his voice. "Waah, all of you are really brave! I have never seen boys as brave as yourselves", added Mehndi, thinking to himself that the boys did indeed have a way of crossing the border undetected. The boys, clearly pleased with themselves and the impression they had created in the eyes of a stranger, moved on and soon disappeared from Mehndi's sight."

" ... Not for them to ponder the thought that by their decision, they were shaking the very foundations of the argument that created Pakistan - that Muslims could not live with non-Muslims, and therefore needed their own country. Such ideas did not germinate in their simple minds. All they knew was they were going back home. Softly, and carefully, they talked of their families and their favorite places, the mangoes of summer and the rains of monsoon. ... "

"The station was a very busy place. Muslim refugees streamed in from India. Lahore had been emptied, or cleansed, depending on how one saw it, of its Hindu and Sikh population. Those who had left by train during the early days of partition were the fortunate ones. Later on, trains from Lahore bound for India, with Sikhs and Hindus on them, were stopped and attacked by Muslim mobs - not a soul was left alive. News of these massacres had made the remaining refugees headed for India avoid trains altogether. As a result, there weren't too many people leaving from the Lahore train station to go to India."

" ... By 6 AM, they were both standing in front of Amritsar Junction, India."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 8 - Home

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" ... A few inquiries later, Syeda found out that the Howrah-Amritsar Mail stopped in Dhampur but that it only operated twice a week from Amritsar - on Sundays and Thursdays. Today being Friday, they would have to wait until Sunday evening for the Howrah Mail. They bought two tickets for Dhampur in a third-class coach and made their way to the platform to wait it out for the next two days."

" ... Chatting up their neighbors, Syeda and Mehndi discovered that nearly all were refugees from Pakistan that had relatives in different parts of India. Almost all of the refugees considered themselves lucky to be alive - some recounted the horror they had witnessed with their own eyes in Pakistan. It was best, Syeda and Mehndi decided, to say as little as possible. ... There was a persistent danger of the refugees coming in from Pakistan attacking the trains with Muslim refugees, given what these incoming refugees had gone through. Syeda and Mehndi quietly prayed for everything to be theek-thaak (proceed smoothly). Fortunately, there was far too much exhaustion, not entirely physical, among the refugees for them to pay any attention to two Hindus occupying a small corner of that platform."

"The Howrah Mail pulled in around 7 PM on Sunday evening. ... "

" ... Predictably, a sense of frenzy gripped the crowd on the platform as the Howrah Mail came to a stop. Picking up their bundles, they rushed towards the train. Passengers still on the train, intending to get off in Amritsar, let loose of volley of abuses towards the crowd, admonishing them to let them get off before boarding the train. The boarding crowd was used to the abuses, used to hearing much worse, in fact, and continued to push its way in. Soon, in fact in minutes, every nook and cranny of the train was stuffed, with either a human or a bundle of luggage. The train would not depart for another hour."

"On the seat opposite Mehndi, a Sikh man of about forty-five started to talk. "Our village is about 30 kilometers from Lahore. Maraka village. ... There were about two hundred of us guarding the Gurudwara, and about three hundred women and children inside. The mob that attacked our village was at least five thousand strong. As soon as we saw them, we knew we would not be able to hold them off. A few of our elders went inside and called the women aside. There was a well in one corner of that Gurudwara, inside the walls. The elders chanted loudly in praise of the Guru and the women jumped into the well, one by one, holding their children. All of us men could hear what was happening and we just went crazy. As soon as the mob came close, we lunged into them with our swords and spears. I killed as many as I could before I was stabbed and fell down. The mob left me for dead and stormed the Gurudwara. They set fire to it, made sure everyone had been killed, and moved on to the next village. When they had left, I managed to drag myself inside the Gurudwara, into the part that had survived. Everyone around me lay dead. The well in the corner was filled with corpses of women and children. My wife was dead, my two children were dead. My relatives, my friends - all lay dead around me. I raged and lost all reason. I wanted to kill every Muslim I could lay my hands on. I stayed in the Gurudwara for three nights, until my wounds healed. At night, I could hear jackals disposing off the bodies of my brethren. You cannot imagine what that did to me - my whole being was on fire. After three days, I gathered some firewood and cremated the half-eaten bodies of my friends and dear ones. I wanted to kill myself, but I wanted to kill Muslims first. I set out from my village, a sword in my hand and my kirpan by my side. I set off towards Mohlanwal village, which was a Muslim village. I had to cross a nalla (drain) to cross over to where the fields of Mohlanwal began. I knew there was a small bridge to cross the nalla and I was walking towards it when I noticed some people hiding out in the sugarcane fields. It was evening, so I could see them clearly, and I think I surprised them. They saw that I was a Sikh and motioned for me to come to them. They were all Hindus who were trying to escape to India. They too had lost everything, including loved ones, when a mob of Muslims had attacked their village. I chided them for not being brave enough to take revenge and told them what I intended to do. ... I told them that I knew the way to the border. That night, all of us came back to the Gurudwara in Maraka. There were about twenty of us. We stayed that night in the Gurudwara and collected all the weapons we could. We stayed indoors all day and were careful with our cooking so as not to create too much smoke. That night, I led them through the fields towards the village of Kahna, and then towards the village of Karbath. I had been to Karbath several times with my Muslim friends who used to visit the mosque of Baba Fateh Shah. We then headed southeast towards the village of Ghaiwind. Ghaiwind is also a Muslim village so we stayed out in the fields all day. That night, we headed towards the village of Khalra. I had been to a wedding in Khalra with some friends of mine. Khalra is a Sikh village. There is a Gurudwara there and my intention was to go to that Gurudwara and find out whether there were any survivors, and then continue on towards Amritsar. I knew that Amritsar was in India, so we had to get there, but I didn't exactly know where the border was. That night, we traveled through the fields towards Khalra and waited for the morning. At daybreak, to our relief, the village was quite active and did not appear to have been attacked. I noticed some Sikh farmers and asked them whether everything was okay in the village. The farmers told me that we had crossed over into India - Khalra was in India. ... I have some family in Saharanpur and decided to go to them instead. I do not know what I will do now. I do not have a reason to live and wish I had died with my family in Maraka. But this is my kismat (fate). ... Having finished his painful story, the Sikh man became quiet and melancholy. Others around too became quiet. Then someone else started to share his story, and then another."

"The train, racing through the Punjab countryside, carried not just the burden of the passengers and their luggage but also the burden of grief of simple men and women who had suffered so much without ever knowing why."

"At 11 AM, Monday, November 10, 1947, Syeda and Mehndi were back in Seekri Buzurg."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 9 - Reunion

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"If ever an invisible hug was rendered with as much passion as is humanly possible, it was rendered that day by the two wives of those two Muslim men who, by their simple acts, had exposed the idea of Partition into what it really was: a meaningless tragedy inflicted upon millions by a triumvirate of the British Government, the Muslim League, and its most visible proponent, Mohammad Ali Jinnah."

" ... The evening meal was also partaken in Bhure's courtyard. Everyone had now learnt that Syeda and Mehndi were back for good and were not going back to Pakistan. "We are much better off here. We know everyone, and our Hindu neighbors have been like brothers to us. This is our home", said Bhure Chacha once dinner had been dispensed with. Everyone nodded their heads and agreed."

" ... "Well, at least you went and found out how it is, so you will not regret not going", said Ram Kumar, helpfully. Hours continued to fly by as curious villagers threw one question after another at the two, completely amazed at their tale. It was almost dinner time before everyone realised that they had to eat."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 10 - Police at the Doorstep

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" ... The officer, quite low in rank, was savvy enough to understand that the letter was a hot potato. The mention of two Muslims who had reentered India after migrating to Pakistan, was a unique thing in itself. On top of that, the police suspected them to be spies. The handling of such a letter could either prove to be career-enhancing, and just as easily, career-retarding. "Ask the Rohilkhand desk to go through their files for the past six months. Give them all the details and have them focus on Bijnor district. Ask them to mark their report directly to me", ordered the officer, now happy with himself at having given it the due attention the matter deserved."

"Bhagwat sent his servant-boy to summon Syeda and Mehndi. It had been almost two weeks since their return to the village, and both Syeda and Mehndi had resumed working in the fields and doing the odd tailoring job that came their way. Their lives had begun to settle down and they were happy. So, they were not sure of what Bhagwat's servant-boy wanted when he waved at them from a distance. "You have been called by the police. Come with me to my master's gher", said the servant-boy. Terror gripped them both when they heard of the summons. They told the servant boy that they were going home for a quick bath and a change of clothes and that they would come directly to Bhagwat's gher. After the servant boy had left, both of them ran to Bhure Chacha, who served as the de-facto adviser of the community. "Chacha, we do not know what the police want with us, but they probably want to arrest us for crossing the border into India", said Syeda. "If we go to Bhagwat's gher, they will surely arrest us. On the other hand, if we decide not to go, they will definitely consider us criminals. We do not know what to do. What do you advise we do?" asked Syeda. A few other men had gathered in Bhure's courtyard by now. Bhure Chacha thought for a while and then looked at the other Muslims gathered there. "What do you all think? What should they do?" he asked. "Chacha, you guide us. We will all abide by whatever you say", replied the others, almost in a chorus. "Both of you should run away from the village and hide in the sugarcane fields. They will surely arrest you if they see you. I will go with a few men to Bhagwat's gher and talk to the police and see if they can rafa-dafa (legally dispose of a case, often after accepting a bribe) this matter." said Bhure Chacha."

" ... The havildar understood what Bhure had in mind, but given the sensitive nature of the case, that door i.e. bribery, had already been shut. However, he indulged the old man as he did not want to appear unreasonable. ... "

" ... "Bhagwat babu (term indicating importance in society), we will not forget your lavish hospitality. Now, we must head out. It looks like these two Muslims have chosen to give us the slip. But first we will go to their homes and make sure we get something. This trip shouldn't be a total waste", said the senior havildar. 'Ram Ram' was exchanged throughout between Bhagwat and the police party, after which they headed towards Bhure Chacha's home."

" ... The policemen well knew the situation, and the play they had to enact to make a few rupees. The main suspect goes missing so you threaten everyone else around of being accomplices, and you threaten to search their homes. The fear of arrest, and the loss of face due to a police search, often brought people groveling in front of the police, who then went on to extract their due. Bhure Chacha came up to the senior most havildar and whispered something to him. They discussed something privately, after which Bhure returned to the men gathered there. "They are asking for fifty rupees to forego the search", said Bhure. A message was quickly sent to Syeda's and Mehndi's homes for them to come up with twenty-five rupees each."

" ... As the villagers saw the tonga disappear from sight, they came to the realization that the threat of regular police visits meant that the police would have to be continuously bribed, each time they showed up, if Syeda and Mehndi had to be protected. Not one of the Muslims wanted to hand the two over, but they all acknowledged that they were poor people with families, and with limited resources. On their own, the Muslims were poor and powerless. They could not deal with this issue on their own. Additional help was needed."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 11 - Refugees, Again

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"The panchayat was convened a few days later to discuss the police visit to the village, and to decide on what to do with Syeda and Mehndi. ... "

" ... Now, the izzat (prestige) of the village was at stake. The village, as a whole, couldn't just sit idly and watch its residents get troubled by outsiders, in this case the police. Bhagwat did not protest too much - after all, he did not want to antagonize the whole village, especially other Hindu landowners. So, thus decided the panchayat: Syeda and Mehndi would continue to live in the village, and everyone would protect them. Were the police to return, they would be told that the two had left the village and gone away forever."

" ... Even if the thanedar did not know the details of their visit to Seekri Buzurg, he could simply summon Kalu, the tonga driver, who would piss in his pants at the sight of the thanedar and divulge everything. Tactfully, he waited for the thanedar to calm down and give him, the havildar, an excuse to leave his office. "Prepare a raid party for dawn tomorrow. Raid their homes before morning, and make sure that this time, you return with the two of them in handcuffs", ordered the thanedar. "Janaab (honorific in Urdu, like sir), I will make sure we return with Syeda and Mehndi in handcuffs. Your superiors will be very pleased sir. Maybe even people in Delhi. This could get you promoted sir! My congratulations in advance! Don't forget people like me when you rise, sir", said the havildar, very clearly buttering up the thanedar. "Now leave my office and report back to me once you have caught both of these two men", said the thanedar, gruffly. Inwardly, however, the thanedar was pleased at what his senior-most havildar had said. It was quite possible that this case might get him promoted. Nihtaur wasn't a full-fledged police station, it was only a thana. Getting promoted to a Police Inspector meant going to Dhampur, or maybe Nagina, or perhaps Bijnor itself. If he could really impress his superiors, perhaps even the higher-ups in Delhi, a double promotion wasn't entirely unheard of. Assistant Superintendent of Police! A wave of pleasure ran through his body at the thought. Emerging from his self-induced fantasy, the thanedar realized he had to ensure that the senior-most havildar did the job this time. He would not accompany the police party - no, that would be considered too menial for him - but he would make sure that the havildars understood that he meant business, that failure would have serious consequences."

" ... Within a few minutes, the police realized that the two men had escaped. As the senior-most havildar pondered as to how the two could have escaped - after all, no one knew of this raid - Mehndi's brother invited the policemen for tea at Bhure Chacha's home. Frustrated and angry, the policemen demanded to know where the two men were. The offer of tea was rudely declined as well although now, thought the policemen, it should have been accepted – the early morning felt cold, and tea would have warmed them. What Mehndi's brother told them next completely bewildered the policemen. "They got scared with your last visit and have left the village forever. We don't know where they have gone but we implore huzoor to let us live in peace", said Mehndi's brother. Taking his word was out of the question so the policemen started to walk towards other homes. Each policeman went to a different home, and each heard the same story - that Syeda and Mehndi had left the village and gone away forever. The same story was repeated in other, Hindu, areas of the village. The policemen knew that they were being lied-to but had no other recourse than to accept the account of the villagers in face of this united front. ... "

"The following morning, the thanedar opened the file on Syeda and Mehndi and read it again. At the end, he added another page and wrote out the details of the raid conducted the previous day: Accused No. 1 - bhagoda (absconding), Accused No. 2 - bhagoda (absconding). Then he closed the file. Given the sensitive nature of the case, as well as its importance to his own career prospects, the thanedar kept the case alive and deposited the file in one of the drawers of his wooden desk."

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June 25, 2022 - June 25, 2022.

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Chapter 12 – I Spy – Now I See You, Now I Don’t

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" ... Bhagwat considered himself as the most knowledgeable man in the village. His world extended even beyond the borders of India. He read newspapers and books, and sometimes visited meetings of the organizations he supported, where the situation in the subcontinent was often discussed. It could not be said that he hated Muslims, nor that he disliked them. ... "

"No one knew where Bhagwat had been, but enough people had seen him leave in a tonga towards Nihtaur. A lot more had seen him when the tonga pulled into Seekri Buzurg, later that evening. The Muslims of the village had a good idea that Bhagwat was behind the police trouble. So, later that evening, all the Muslim men met in Bhure Chacha's courtyard. Syeda and Mehndi had gotten used to the peaceful times and fervently prayed that the horrors of the months past would not return. Sagaciously, Bhure Chacha started to speak, as everyone around hung on to his every word. "We cannot be sure what Bhagwat has been up to. It is not likely that he will go against the decision of the village, but it is best not to take chances. Syeda and Mehndi should not be seen openly in the village, least of all by Bhagwat", he said. "Police will usually try to surprise us late at night or very early in the morning, so they cannot sleep in their homes from now on. They also cannot sleep in our homes as we are known to the police as their sympathizers. We will have to find someone whom the police do not suspect and have Syeda and Mehdi sleep in his home or gher", continued Bhure. "From now on, we have to be very careful. If Syeda and Mehndi continue their tailoring work, chances are they will be seen one day or the other by Bhagwat, or by someone else who may report them to Bhagwat. Syeda and Mehdi should only work in the sugarcane fields from where it will be easy to escape, if needed. They should only come back home after sunset and see their families when it is dark. After dinner, they should not be seen anywhere near their homes, or ours." concluded Bhure Chacha. ... None of them wanted to leave the village, not after their misadventure in Pakistan. Everyone they knew and loved was in the village. A life outside the village, especially from what they learnt in Pakistan, was now unimaginable. Syeda and Mehndi decided to stay in the village and take their chances."

"Ram Kumar chose not to let the events of his time compromise his humanity. For reasons best known to him, he decided to help the two men."

"The two men slowly settled into this routine of subterfuge. Villagers that did not know about their arrangement with Ram Kumar talked about them for a few days, wondering where the two men were, and then went on with their lives. Sometimes, fanciful stories were heard about them having been sighted in places as far away as Delhi and Lucknow. Bhure Chacha, who knew their situation in entirety, often lent his voice to such rumors so the spotlight was kept away from the village."

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June 25, 2022 - June 26, 2022.

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Chapter 13 - Ups and Downs

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"At 5 AM, on October 13, 1948, a large police party of about ten policemen, led by the thanedar, left for Seekri Buzurg. The party arrived at the village a little before 6 AM. The thanedar instructed the policemen to be as quiet as possible. They were split up into smaller groups of three policemen each. He led one of the groups, another was led by the senior-most havildar. The third group was led by the senior havildar of that group. The groups then headed for their respective destinations - one towards Syeda's home, another towards Mehndi's and the last group, towards Bhure Chacha's home."

" ... The women of that home hurriedly covered their heads and faces and retreated to one corner of an inner courtyard. The thanedar entered Syeda's home and searched everywhere. A similar script was being played out in Mehndi's home, and in the home of Bhure Chacha."

"Nothing. Not even a trace of the two absconding men. The thanedar was smart enough to know that the two men had not left the village, but he was at a complete loss as to where they might be. The fields of sugarcane, perhaps. But the fields were so spread out, and so many in number, that it would be impossible, even for a force of a hundred policemen, to find the two men. The police party, their mission a failure, left for Bhagwat's home. Even Bhagwat had not seen the two men for some weeks now. Could the two men have actually left the village, thought the thanedar. Where would they go? Bijnor, Nagina, Meerut, Saharanpur! This case was becoming more complex by the day. He would need to think this one through - perhaps even get the advice of a senior colleague that he admired very much.

"By the time the sun came up that day, the police party had left for Nihtaur, empty-handed but not before the thanedar had threatened all Muslims that any help to the two absconding men on their part would bring their ruination, along with that of their family. After all, the thanedar of Nihtaur police station could not lose face in front of a few peasants. So, the thanedar did what all policeman of the time did – threatened everyone with severe consequences – in order to save face, and, sometimes, to explain failure away.

"Unbeknownst to the thanedar, or his police party, Syeda and Mehndi had woken up around 5:30 AM that morning, and were out of the village, and in the fields of sugarcane, before the police party had reached Seekri Buzurg. It was only later that night, when Syeda sat down for a meal with his father, that he came to know of the raid. He shivered at the thought of getting caught by the police and then being subjected to torture and be made to confess to every charge the thanedar wanted to trump up. He had heard of police brutality from Mehndi and from some other friends of his, and it was much better to remain uncaught. So, for the next few days, fearing the presence of police informers in the village, Syeda and Mehndi slept out in the fields and did not return home – not even to Ram Kumar’s gher."

"The surprise raid by the police, led by no less than the thanedar himself, had shaken Syeda and Mehndi, and their families. Luckily, no one, except of course Ram Kumar, knew of their hideout in Ram Kumar's gher. Both of them understood that it was not beyond the police to beat out their location from their family members. However, the police wouldn't suspect, or trifle with, someone like Ram Kumar."

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June 26, 2022 - June 26, 2022.

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Chapter 14 - Chaiti Attha

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" ... None of the villagers would ever turn them in - they knew that - but what they were scared of was word getting around that they had been spotted in the village. If, somehow, word got to Bhagwat, he was sure to let the police know. Being cautious, they randomly chose the nights they decided to spend at home. With the passing of days, their fear subsided more and more.

"The festival of Navratri (nine nights of the Goddess) is celebrated twice a year - at the junction of two major seasons. The first nine nights are celebrated when winter gives way to spring, called the Chaitra Navratri, also known as Vasant Navratri. The second celebration occurs when the rainy season gives way to winter, called Sharad Navratri. In these parts, a large mela (fair) was held in the town of Nagina on the eighth day of Chaitra Navratri, known in the local dialect as Chaiti Atthe ka mela. This mela was so large, and so well known, that entire villages used to travel large distances on bullock carts to reach the mela. All kinds of foods, circuses, novelty acts, magic shows and other items of entertainment used to be the core attractions at the mela."

"Around the time evening tea was served, Syeda and Mehndi prepared to leave the village. Their friends persistently asked them about where they would go, to which they replied that they had to be on the run and would stay as far away from the village as possible. Bhure Chacha was aware that the two stayed around the village, but he wasn't aware of the specifics. It didn't bother him that the two men wanted to keep their daily movements a secret from him. It made sense – he would have done the same – as it would not take the police long to beat out their location from anyone who was in the know or was suspected of being in the know. At sundown, he asked both Syeda and Mehndi to visit their own households and spend some time with their own families. Plenty of hugs were exchanged and farewells spoken, after which the two started for their homes. In their own homes - fairly certain that a police raid was unlikely on a day when everyone wanted to be at the fair in Nagina - the two men sat peacefully, exchanging pleasant chatter with their siblings and parents. The day felt normal.

"After dinner, they left again for Ram Kumar's gher."

" ... After two hours, the thanedar realized that any further prodding was a waste of time. He asked Bhure to step outside his office and wait for further instructions. The senior-most havildar was then summoned. He was instructed to depute three men to keep an eye on Syeda's home, as well as Mehndi's home, round-the-clock. The havildar stepped out of the thanedar's office, looked at the old Bhure Chacha, and said "you can go now. Sahab is done with you". Bhure knew better than to remind the policemen of their promise to drop him back home. That promise was made to be broken, just to get him to come to Nihtaur. He knew they never meant to keep it. Furthermore, if he even so much as asked about the possibility of getting a tonga to Seekri Buzurg, the policemen would get enraged and beat him. It was best to melt away in the approaching darkness - the police could change their mind about him."

"A couple of weeks later – when the memory of the policemens’ visit and Bhure’s interrogation had begun to be forgotten - three men came to the village. They headed straight for the patwari's (a village level revenue official) gher. They said they were from the revenue records office in Nihtaur and were visiting all the villages to ensure that the records were up-to-date, and without discrepancies. They indicated that they would stay in the patwari's gher until their work was done. Not too many villagers noticed the three men. Those that did thought nothing more of their visit - it was normal for the patwari's records to be checked every now and then.

"Two of the three men left the patwari's gher after dinner, saying they were going for a long walk. The patwari and the third man talked until the two fell asleep.

"Of course, what the villagers did not know was that the thanedar of Nihtaur had reached out to his colleague in Kotwali, and three policemen had been deputed to help the thanedar of Nihtaur. They had to be faces that the villagers of Seekri Buzurg hadn't seen before, and they had to go as plainclothesmen. Now, camped in the patwari's gher, two of the three men proceeded towards Syeda's home. They were careful enough not to get too close. They found an open patch of land that was on the opposite side of a pathway that led to Syeda's home. His entrance was clearly visible from that vantage point, and the two men settled down, careful to remain in the shadows in case an unlikely passer-by should spot them, the likelihood of which was remote given that it was now past 9 PM."

"For three nights, the plainclothesmen from the Kotwali police station staked out Syeda’s, and Mehndi's, home. During the day, they would pretend to look over the revenue records and asked the patwari questions about delinquent revenues. They also appeared quite interested in the general gossip from the village. However, after three nights of failing to see anything, they told the patwari that their work was done. They prepared to leave, telling the patwari that they would back if they needed more information. For now, he was to ensure that he kept all of the village records up to date. The patwari was only too happy to get rid of the three revenue officials, although this was the easiest of visits by revenue officials, in his memory.

"The three policemen headed to Nihtaur to update the thanedar, and having done that, returned back to Kotwali."

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June 26, 2022 - June 26, 2022.

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Chapter 15 - Monsoon Luck

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"There had been no reported sightings of the police in and around Seekri Buzurg for some time. No strangers had been seen around, and Bhagwat had seemed to focus on his farming. Each night, lying in a makeshift hut on Ram Kumar’s land, the two friends would talk until sleep took them over. "What kind of a life are we leading? I don't know what came over us to decide to go to Pakistan", they would often say to one another. In times like these, they would think about the time since their return from Pakistan and would often break down at their misfortune."

"Syeda and Mehndi would eat whatever their wives had put together for them. They would insist on sharing their food after a day spent in sharing their miseries. Syeda’s son would catch them up on the goings-on in the village, and especially, if any policeman had been spotted, or even rumored to have been spotted. Once in a while, the urge to see their families would overtake their sense of safety, and the two would sneak into the village behind Syeda’s son, who had standing instructions to tell anyone he might encounter that he had gone to chase away wild pigs from Ram Kumar’s fields. Everyone in the village knew that Syeda’s family consistently helped Ram Kumar out in his fields, and Syeda’s son being asked to scare away animals would almost always be beyond the pale of doubt."

" ... Ah, the rain felt good. The police wouldn’t come looking during the rains, they thought. Couldn’t they start sleeping in their own beds at home, at least during the rainy season? It was worth trying. So, bearing the risk of having to flee in a hurry, the two decided to venture homewards and seek the comfort of their own beds, a few times a week."

" ... The rains were especially heavy this year than the previous, and the two or three months of inactivity that came with the monsoon season would make their detection in the village very unlikely. So, on one rainy night, Syeda and Mehndi headed home after dark, and did not return to the fields the next day, nor the next, nor the day following."

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June 26, 2022 - June 26, 2022.

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Chapter 16 - Goodbye Mon Ami

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"The boy was keenly aware of always being on the lookout for the police. Additionally, he had been instructed not to speak a word about the whereabouts of his father or Mehndi. Three men, with lathis, out in the rain were enough to startle him. He ran home and rushed in through the front door. A little out of breath, he announced that he had just seen three men with lathis walking behind him. Syeda literally jumped off his charpai, and, grabbing a large sheet with which to cover his head, rushed out through the back, leaving instructions for his son to go and warn Mehndi about the three men. The boy rushed out again through the front door and reached Mehndi's home where he repeated what he had seen out in the street. Mehndi, too, grabbed a sheet and ran out towards the sugarcane fields."

"Syeda's body was collected from the field, washed and dressed for burial. He was buried the same afternoon. Mehndi was present at the funeral. So was Bhure Chacha. So was Ram Kumar."

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June 26, 2022 - June 26, 2022.

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Chapter 17 - Coda Tailpiece

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" ... In two months, the pain became his constant companion. Mehndi gave up working in the fields. He could still do some tailoring work, just to keep an income going. His brother, his nephews and his wife chided him constantly for working, but Mehndi didn't listen to any of them. Neither did he care. The only option was to take him to a doctor but none of them had ever been to one. There was, his family found out, a doctor in Nihtaur, but his fees were high. Mehndi dropped the idea of going to a doctor - perhaps he sensed his own condition and did not want his family to waste their hard-earned money."

"A few days later, news of Mehndi’s passing reached the thanedar of Nihtaur police station. He sighed deeply, headed to a filing cabinet and pulled out the case file one last time. He then grabbed some older files from the filing cabinet - files from the British times - and stacked all of the files, including the case file, on a wooden stool in the courtyard of the police station. He ordered one of the havildars to bring him some kerosene oil and a matchbox. Dousing everything in kerosene oil, the thanedar lit the pile. A little bonfire rose heavenwards. Soon, it was all reduced to dust. All: the men, their actions and the actions of those that had acted for the law. What did it matter now, when did it matter ever? A lot of people had profited because of those files. Law had done what law had done. Justice – may truth prevail – was a word of the naïve: only meant to help us separate the ‘good’ from the ‘bad’. We, of course, were undoubtedly on the side of the ‘good’, weren’t we? ... "

"Bhagwat left Hardwar a somewhat relieved man. ... "

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June 26, 2022 - June 26, 2022.

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Partition, 1947

by Ashish Chandra (Author),

Yogesh Chandra (Narrator)

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June 25, 2022 - June 26, 2022.

Purchased June 12, 2022.

Format: Kindle Edition

Kindle Edition

Language‏:‎ English

ASIN‏:- B07B8L5DC9

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https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4777708130

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Sunday, June 26, 2022

Partition, 1947; by Ashish Chandra, Yogesh Chandra.

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