Trauma, kafila & a new home

SS Grewal 

I WAS barely four when the inevitable happened in 1947. We were at Chak Narangwal in Samundari tehsil of Layalpur district, so named after our ancestral village Narangwal in Ludhiana. The vast expanse of our joint house, cattle, orchard, lovely horse, Tau...are all fresh in my mind. Tau generally came drunk on horseback from his sojourns. 

 One evening, Tau, with his rifle and a leather bag full of cartridges, went to the rooftop. Fond of red cartridges, I silently followed him. A rifle fire came from Sema, a Muslim village. Tau retaliated. There was another shot from Sema; Tau replied with two. Thereafter, a long silence followed. As I now understand, Sema fellows wanted to loot the village ahead of the days of our departure and Tau’s firing was a deterrent. 

It was the most pathetic scene on the day of departure. One of our rooms was filled with cotton and the other with wheat. The doors were sealed with cow dung. Produce was not sold due to recession after the World War. We were packing when Muslims from Sema came with carts to carry our cotton and grains. My father was filled with rage, but did not utter a word. 

 He asked my mother to unchain six buffaloes and four bullocks, of the six we had. While setting them free, with misty eyes, she hugged one of the highest-yielding buffalo nicknamed tehsildarni. We loaded on the cart only a trunk with some clothes and valuables, a cot, a bag of flour, some gur-shakkar, pulses, utensils and two bags of cow-dung cakes. The village carpenter fondly made an innovative toy for me, crafted like a small gun. We use to shoot pigeons with this gulel. Father snatched it from me and shoved it into a stack of cotton sticks. I cried on the loss of my dearest toy. 

The travel days were all about walking in a kafila of 40 carts of our village, forming a part of the bigger caravan moving towards India. Most men were on foot; only women and children were on carts. Tau would keep circling the kafila on horseback with his loaded gun. He was the only guard for the entourage, providing solace. At dusk, the kafila would stop near some water point, men would run towards the fields for fodder. Women would immediately get engaged in cooking the simplest meal. We never bathed through the journey. At night, we used to sleep under the cart, the wheels serving as a shield against firing, which was frequent throughout the night.  

 Dead-tired, we reached a refugee camp in Amritsar and stayed on for weeks. We bought a buffalo for Rs 90. We were told to proceed to Ludhiana, and further to Raikot village. Men were told to occupy a vacated Muslim house each. Tau occupied three adjoining houses. Later, the walls were pulled down to connect them. We could never think of staying in isolation. A gurdwara was set up in a vacated mosque. 

We were well received by residents. The baniyas, mostly Jains, provided grocery and clothing on loan... also seeds, manure and camels to run Persian wheels. The calamity ignited a spirit of brotherhood which, unfortunately, we are losing fast.