Madness that overtook, and ties that bind

THERE was complete social unity and communal harmony among Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims in our village Datewal Bhindran, Narowal tehsil (now district) in Sialkot district before the creation of Pakistan. The Muslims participated in the festivals of Hindus and Sikhs, who also celebrated Eid with them with equal enthusiasm. There was a khanqah (shrine) in our village where Muslims used to offer namaz. My grandfather would provide financial aid to the muttavalli (trustee) for its upkeep.

Muslim mobs had started killing Hindus and Sikhs. Our village was also not safe. However, one night in September-end in 1947, a couple of hours before a large number of marauders roaring ‘Allah-o-Akbar’ (God is great) plundered our village around midnight, my Muslim class fellow Abdul Aziz, his father Mohabbat Zaman and grandfather Allah Ditta escorted our family to a safe place 5-6 km away under the protection of a retired Army officer. It was raining heavily and we had to stay at the camp for a few days. My mother gave all our silver ornaments as a gift to Aziz’s sister to be given at the time of her wedding before we joined a caravan leaving for India after the rains stopped. At least 4,000 to 5,000 persons were part of our caravan.

Our family comprised nine members — five men and four women. My younger brother and sister rode on a horse. Because of excruciating pain in her knees, my mother had to be occasionally given a piggy-back ride. I was 16 at the time. There were a large number of children, old and ailing people. It had started raining again and in that torrential rain, we headed towards India. Hooligans kept on attacking our caravan time and again but Hindus and Sikhs fought back and killed many attackers.

Abdul Aziz had also accompanied us. On reaching Vadhai Cheema village (in Ajnala tehsil, Amritsar district), we saw that the Ravi river was in spate. We stayed there for the night. I went to the village with some persons to look for food. The village was empty. I saw a big chaati (earthen vessel) full of ladoos in a house there. I brought 20 in a brass pitcher. That pitcher is still with us. The next day, the Ravi subsided. A Muslim and a Hindu boatman were ferrying people across the river. The Hindu boatman was charging Re 1 per person while the Muslim boatman named Manha ferried the people free of cost.

We stopped at Gaggo Mahal village for some time and later went to Mulowali in Dera Baba Nanak tehsil, Gurdaspur district, where we stayed for some months. Muslims were also leaving for Pakistan. Abdul Aziz, who had been staying with us, also left with these caravans.

We were allotted land near Kahnuwan village in Gurdaspur but decided to live in Qadian. Almost 25-30 years later, I visited Pakistan as part of a jatha to Gurdwara Panja Sahib. There my pocket was picked and I lost my passport, ticket and around Rs 7,000. I lodged an FIR and the police head constable gave me a copy of the FIR and told me to show that at the Wagah post on return. I also visited Abdul Aziz’s family in Lahore while returning. Aziz was working as a DSP. When I told them about my trouble, they offered me some money, joking that here the policemen give money rather than taking it.

At Wagah, when I showed the copy of the FIR to the police incharge, he jumped and embraced me, saying he is also a Bhinder from Talwandi Bhindran village. His grandfather and my father, who was a headmaster in the village’s middle school, were friends. The meeting reinforced my feeling that countries could be separated, but not people’s hearts.

— The writer is based in Qadian