Home is where the heart is, but where is home now?

That afternoon, when Murti had been praying for Usha’s safe arrival in Punjab, that afternoon in Delhi, Usha and Nanna were sitting in the Tanga, the rusty horse carriage, drawn by an older man, who had been with them since that morning, when he had picked them from the airport.

They had been to their Auntie’s house, from where they had been turned away, because their Auntie had a full house, and there was no room for the two young women, with a baby! So, they had come back to the Tanga.

Completely shaken up, both were wondering, what they could do, and where else they could go. They were scared!

Putting their bags back in his Tanga, the Tanga Walla had helped Nanna and Baby in their seats, and once the girls were seated, he had asked casually,

“So where to now, Kurio?”

There was no response from the girls, just a sigh that must have escaped from one of the girl’s pursed lips. He turned around and said softly,

“Kuriyo, Girls, do you know someone else in Delhi? Another relative, may be from your mother’s side, or a friend of your father’s who could help you?”

And suddenly, Usha remembered a person, a furniture shop in Chandni Chowk, as a faint memory of Pitaji saying something about someone called Jamshed from Chandni Chowk, emerged in her mind:

“If there is any issue, you are lost or cannot get to your auntie’s house, contact this person, Jamshed Singh, he will help you. He has a furniture shop in Chandni Chowk. I had helped him with his insurance claim when he had had an accident while on a business trip to Srinagar.”

Usha was good at remembering names, better than Nanna, but she had not remembered the address. Yes, this much was sure that the shop was in Chandni Chowk, but where was it, and where was his house, that she couldn’t remember, if her father had told her.

But, once, Usha whispered the name and mentioned the furniture shop to him, the Tanga Walla took it on himself to find this shop, and this person in Chandni Chowk.

Saying, “Chal meri morni, Ud ja, run, my peahen, fly away”, he slapped the horse to hurry, to take the girls there safely, and before it got too dark, and they galloped away.

On their way again, they crossed the refugee camps, and both Usha and Nanna looked at each other. The prospect of them ending up there at night, was looming large in their minds, and Usha, with her vivid imagination, could already envision both of them standing in a queue asking for a blanket, milk for Baby and bread. Nanna looked at Usha and held her hand, and both of them clutching their hands together started to recite the gaytri mantar silently, just under their breath!

Going through the Connaught Place, the most beautiful circular entertainment area in Delhi, famous for its big shops and classy restaurants around a big park, the Tanga Walla said to them, “One day, when you come back again, do visit this place, and enjoy some delicious pastries, cakes and other Angreji delicacies”.

Next time in Delhi, seemed so far at that moment to both Usha and Nanna. They just wanted this one time to be over, this time, which had become an endless nightmare, just stretching and stretching in front of them.

When they finally arrived in Chandni Chowk, where they had hoped Jamshed Singh’s house to be, close to his shop, it was late afternoon. The first disappointment that faced them like a slap was that it being a Sunday, the shops around that area were not open, and also there were no signs on the closed shops to give them an idea which shop was which.

The area however, was not quiet, as with the siesta time over, there were quite a few people around the few vegetable sellers, making their purchases, while street food vendors were making their evening calls.

And it took them just a couple of stops to ask people about Jamshed Singh’s house, “Oh Sardarji, furniture wale!” and suddenly they were at his door step. It was a big single storey house with a stone wall at the front, on which a flowery creeper was climbing. The front door was on one side, and it was open.

Knocking at the side of the open door with one hand, the Tanga Walla quickly helped the girls with their bags, as he was now getting anxious to get home to his own family. Reluctantly the girls got off and Usha picked up the two bags and Nanna had the Baby, who clung to her mother.

Jamshed, when he heard the door knock, got up from his chair where he had been sitting and basking in the late afternoon Sun in the courtyard. Poor guy had no idea, that these two girls, whom he had not even known before that day, would drop from the sky at his doorstep, their pale faces and tear-filled eyes begging for shelter.

He also had a house full of relatives, who had arrived from Pakistan, but the minute he had heard their father’s name, P.D. Soni, he had asked his wife to take the girls inside and make them comfortable. He asked her to give the little baby some milk, and give the girls some warm milk as well, they both looked as if they were going to faint. With shaky hands and teary eyes, the girls had just stood their awestruck for this unexpected generosity. Waving their doubts away with the swish of his hand, he had said softly to the girls,

“Take some rest dear, and we will talk about the next step after dinner,” and to his wife he had said, “Give them Lajju’s room”!

Jamshed’s wife had taken them in with such warmth that both Usha and Nanna started to cry. She hugged them, wiping their tears and soothing their bleeding hearts with her motherly care and affection.

“You are home now and safe, bacchiyo“, then saying “The moon will not be out before 10.00 pm, so rest for a while !” she took them inside the house, where she handed them over to her daughter in-law. The girl was quite young, may be Nanna’s age, but in her behaviour, she appeared much more mature. “Lets make you comfortable”, she had said, taking them to a large room at the back.

After giving them some toiletries, she had gone to get some milk for them. Exhausted both Usha and Nanna had collapsed on the bed, when she had returned with three glasses of warm milk. She was quite persistent, that since Biji, her mother-in-law had said they should drink milk, they should. “Because, when elders tell you to do something then it is allowed on the Varat day”. She had confided in them that on her first Karwa chauth, she had taken milk, and a piece of Burfee, “after all if the wife is not healthy, how can she pray for her husband’s long life”!

In the evening, she had lent Usha and Nanna some of her clothes, and red chunnies, and some make up so they could dress up to celebrate and break their Karwa chauth fast with everyone.

Jamshed Sigh, called Darji by everyone except for his mother, Jhaiji, was a big man, with a long grey beard, big warm eyes, and a big heart. To accommodate them, he arranged for a few of his male relatives to go to sleep in the shop at night, so girls could be adjusted at the house. They even had a room to themselves, where a couple of other young girls would come to sleep at night.

Jhaiji, Jamshed’s mother was quite a chatter box, and wanted to know everything about the girls, and was ready to share her stories with any one, if they would listen! It was the Ahoi fast day, which is kept by mothers for the long life of their children. That day, Jhaiji was asked to tell the story of the fast to all women, who had gathered at their house in the evening.

Later, when the girls were sitting with Jhaiji, she had told them that originally, they had been Hindus, but had later converted to Sikhism. After her marriage, she and her husband had made a mannat, a wish and a promise, at Gurudwara Sheeshganj Saheb, the Sikh temple, that they would convert their first born son to sikhism. Many Hindu families had this tradition of converting their first son to Sikhism, and going to Gurudwara, the sikh temple or the Hindu temple, in India has not been mutually exclusive. People go to both the places of worship with equal devotion.

In Jhaiji’s case, since, she didn’t have any other children after Jamshed, her family just started to follow Sikhism, but she still believed in and worshiped her Mata Rani, the goddess Mother Durga. And along with going to Gurudwara, and doing service there, she would also attend bhajan keertan, jagrata and chownki, where people gather to sing devotional songs on the rhythm of a dholaki, a longish drum.

Jamshed’s daughter-in-law told them with a smile and a wink, that Jhaiji loved to go to these places, as she had a reputation in such gatherings, and was always invited by women in their neighbourhood. During the devotional singing, she would often become possessed, with her eyes shut and her lips moving, a loud whispering sound coming from them, “Jai Mata ki”, she would start to shake and move her head vigorously. People would also start chanting and kneeling in front of her, Jai Mata ki, Jai Mata ki, ‘Oh Goddess we pray to you, forgive us’, and Jhaiji would open her eyes, and start to grant wishes to people around her. Her state of shaking and chanting would ensure the success of a keertan, as women would believe that goddess had come to their house through Jhaiji.

The girls remained in awe of the old woman and whenever with her penetrating eyes, she looked at them, or asked them something, they were too keen to please her.

Still, their time at the house was quite healing and comforting. Its homely atmosphere and the warmth and affection, that the family showed them, made both Usha and Nanna feel almost at home, immediately. Jamshed’s wife and daughter in-law, who really took care of them, and Jamshed’s quiet caring attitude, helped them get over the worst experience of life, and feel safe. They were suddenly positive and optimistic, that soon they would be home, their own home!

Usha wanted Jamshed to post her letter, but then she was hesitant to ask for any other favours as he had already done so much for them.

During that week, Usha learned patience, acceptance, and knitting. While, Jamshed was keen for the girls to regain health, and insisted on his wife, whom Usha and Nanna also called Biji, to feed them nutritious food, ghee, milk, nuts and fruit, and she looked after them well, but she was also interested in teaching the girls some household tricks to take with them.

She gave some wool to Usha to start knitting a small jumper for her child. Usha found knitting soothing, she felt at peace, and it was also easy to pass time. She could talk to Nanna and still keep knitting. Nanna had her hands full, as Baby got sick and needed 24 hour care.

Since Nanna was busy with Baby, Usha would also go to the kitchen to help Biji, she even cooked one of her mother’s recipes, her famous Jammu Rajmah, the kidney beans curry with yogurt, which everyone had enjoyed. Then Biji taught Usha her colourful Pishore daal, the split and washed pulses, mash ki yellow daal with ginger and coriander, and her specialty, Feerani, the ground rice pudding, set in a glass bowl with silver, Varak, and served in small glass bowls. She told Usha that for the best results, it needed to be set on a full moon night, and left out in the moonlit night, to catch the moon rays for extra sweetness and coolness.

Usha dreamed of the day, when she would cook these dishes for her family!

And that is how she started to make Biji’s feerani every year in October on a full moon night.

And that is how she decided that her own children would call her, ‘Biji’! She loved the sound of this word. “Biji”!

Suddenly she was home sick for Murti, and keen to get home, and start her own family life, and so was Nanna, keen to go home, to her husband.

After almost a week of their stay in Delhi, Jamshed Singh was able to organise train tickets for them to go to Punjab. On 9th November, he took the girls to the station and sat them in the train going to Ludhiana. He also pressed some money in their hands so they could buy their bus tickets from Ludhiana, as from there, the girls were going to catch separate buses, one going to Khanna and the other going to Jalandhar, going home to their respective husbands.

And the girls, after going through such experiences of their life, experiences that made them more mature than their ages, would reach Punjab, safe and sound, sadder and wiser. The Punjab that they had known had also changed forever.

With a big chunk of its area cut off, and in Pakistan, now, the people of Punjab were divided at heart. Thousands of men, women and children from both sides had perished, people had gone through big losses of life and property, and in many cases women, young girls, had been snatched away from their families by those on the other side.

Amrita Preetam, the great Punjabi Sikh poetess, in her poem, Aj aakhan Waris Shah nu kiton Kabra vichon bol…., is crying for these young girls, and mourning their loss. She on the behalf of these sobbing souls, evokes warisshah, the great Punjabi poet to once again pick up his pen, to write the story of these thousands of girls, just as he had written a long tragic love poem in the honour of just one young Punjabi girl, Heer, who had died for love.

The plight of these women and young girls, who had lost their homes for ever, was much more tragic, as many of them could never come back home, were never accepted back in their families. With their hearts still pining for their family homes in Punjab, they had to make their homes elsewhere!

Punjab, whether on the side of India or Pakistan, was crying, as Punjabis, whether Hindus or Muslims, were left with weeping souls, and wounded hearts, and wounds, forever raw, as these would never heal…..

But as is the law of nature, new shoots always come out of the rubble of destruction. And Usha and Nanna would see Punjab regain its riches, its prosperity, its gaiety, its youth once again, yes, and they would always remember, no matter how dark the times are, there is always hope, just around the corner. As it is always the case, that:

“In the midst of darkness, light exists. In the midst of untruth, truth exists.”

https://qz.com/india/1355466/khushwant-singh-recalls-lahore-before-indias-1947-partition/

Yes, goodness exists in everyone, and love and friendship can help anyone get over anything!

And something that Usha and Murti, after being separated from each other in those uncertain times, would also realise was that their home will always be where they would both be together, whether in Kashmir, Punjab, or at another place in India, as one’s home will always be where one’s heart is!

“India of my dreams! An India in which all communities shall live in perfect harmony. … Women will enjoy the same rights as men.” (Gandhi 1931)

https://www.mkgandhi.org/indiadreams/chap01.htm

By the time, Usha and Nanna arrived in Delhi on 2^nd of November 1947, the number of refugees there had already reached half a million. As a result, Delhi, the capital of the newly freed India was quickly turning into a big refugee town. And Usha and Nanna were going to be just two new faces in this sea of refugees.

The previous evening, when they had reached Delhi, safe and sound, Usha and Nanna had been feeling relieved at the prospect of reaching their respective husbands soon. But this morning, at their Auntie’s house, where they had expected to be welcomed with open arms, the doors had been shut on them.  This house had been their first destination, before going to Punjab, but now, what were they going to do, where could they go?

On their way from the airport to their auntie’s house, Usha and Nanna had crossed a few refugee camps. They had both been quite troubled by the situation of these homeless people, and had shown much sympathy for those queuing up for food and shelter. And now, they themselves, were in a pitiable state, ready to join the queue!

All alone in a city, teeming with people, the poor girls had no place to stay, nor any one to call their own.

The Tanga Walla had told them that there were separate refugee camps for Muslims and Hindus. Muslims who wanted to leave India, were staying near the Old Fort, or Purana Kila areas, and Hindus coming from Pakistan were kept in the refugee camps outside Delhi, in Kurukshetra and, then those who made to Delhi were everywhere, some in official camps, near the Humayun Tomb and a couple of other places, with many more staying with their relatives.

These people, who had been quite well of, running businesses, having jobs, shops, beautiful big houses which were all in Pakistan now, had become refugees, needing shelter, going to one of the refugee camps, or to their brothers’, or their cousins’ families for food and shelter, expecting to be given that much  support.

He had said that he himself had 10 relatives at home, who had all arrived in the last couple of weeks, needing food, shelter, medicine and what not, putting pressure on his family budget.

“But you know relatives have to be welcomed and taken care of, after all where else can they go? Your Auntie would take care of you both, don’t worry.” He had assured them.

But when their Auntie was shutting her door on them, he had not looked surprised. Their Auntie had her house overflowing with relatives from her in-law’s family, and she had no place left for anyone, many of her guests were already sleeping in the veranda. So, with a heavy heart, and with tears in her eyes, she had turned her own brother’s daughters away.

The Tanga Walla had carried their luggage back to the carriage. And Usha and Nanna, with their faces white and their lips trembling, had followed him.

The thought troubling them both was, where would they spend their first night in their free India?

On the other side of India, in Punjab, where Murti and Dutt had been trying to get in touch with the girls, the situation was even worse. Punjab had been worst hit by the partition as the very boundary line of India and Pakistan’s division, had been drawn through this land of five rivers.

The line dividing the two sides of this flourishing, fertile land, and most friendly and warm people who called themselves Punjabis, was turning into a red line, full of blood and tears being shed by all, Hindus, Sikhs, and Muslims, all of them who had considered Punjab to be their joint home.

Whether they were Hindus or Muslims, whether they were running to or from Punjab, which was now in Pakistan, there were people running, leaving everything they had built behind, to go to the other side. These people, who had considered themselves and their neighbours to be Punjabi, bound together in the thread of their shared culture, their food, and their language, had become scared of those living around them.

The situation was mirrored in Murti’s college too. The classes had started but the number of students attending was quite low as many students, who were Muslims, had left and a few girls who used to come to the college had stopped coming. It was not considered safe for girls to be out and about.

One particular day, however, Murti had a slightly bigger number of students in his class, and he had been surprised to see even a couple of girls, in the class. There was even a Muslim girl, who had come in a Burqa for the first time, but before sitting down, she had taken it off. She was sitting in the front row, all alone.

Murti had started to feel good about the day. Yes, everything would be normal again. He had picked up the poetry book, and started to teach his students the difference between one’s vocation and profession. They were going to read, Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening” which was one of Murti’s favourite poems. He loved to teach this poem, with one of his most used quotes, “Miles to go before I sleep”, as he could really inject the idea of tireless work to achieve perfection in life, in one’s life, that he believed everyone had to aim for.

But suddenly he had started to hear some bickering sounds coming from the students. One of the boys from the back row had started to whisper some rude comments, whispering loud enough to disturb not only his target, the Muslim girl, but the whole class.

Before Murti could have said anything, another student had shouted, “There is no place for people like her in our class Sir, they are murderers, killing innocent Hindus, men, women and children”.

Murti was shocked to hear such comments. He got really angry, and ready to say something harsh to put these rebels in their place, but then controlling himself, he had said,

“Please calm down, there is no place for religion here, you are all students at this college, and in my class, each one of you is only a learner, not a Hindu, not a Muslim”.

He was sure the students would settle down, as he had always believed young people to be above these petty communal divisions. Especially, considering these students were gaining higher education, he had expected them to have higher ideals.

But then suddenly, as if just to defy his belief in the young people of his India, another student stood up to say, “Sir, this Muslim girl should leave, if she remains here, we will leave”,

At this comment and the defiance of the speaker, Murti was about to burst in anger, ready to drag this student and his other supporters outside the class, when the two girls, who had been sitting right behind the Muslim girl, stood up and instead of leaving the classroom, moved to sit with her at the front.

The poor girl, who must have already copped a lot of opposition at home for coming to the college in these circumstances, had already started to put her Burka on in a bid to leave the classroom. She was shocked to find these two girls who had come to sit with her, flanking her on both sides, as if protecting her. With teary eyes, she looked at Murti, bowing down a bit with a hand slightly raised, to show her gratitude and respect.

Murti saw some other students backing him up as those students, who had stood up to leave, also sat down. And before those students who had disturbed the class could say something else, the bell had rung.

That day, Murti had left the class with mixed feelings, he was sad about the filthy comments that the boys had made, but then he had also felt heartened by those who had stood up with him to support the girl’s right to stay and study in the class.

The hatred that had been brewing up in people in his free India, he always said, could only be dissolved by dialogue, and only education could do that, Murti was sure of this. He believed in secularism being promoted by the leaders of the nation. And knew that if Indians didn’t rise above these petty communal divisions, India could go back being a backward, enslaved country again.

There was a lot of work, that had to be done to undo, what the British had done, sowing seeds of doubt , fear and hatred among Indians, to rewrite the destiny of this new country with love, tolerance and hard work, yes, there were “Miles and miles to go before sleeping”!

Murti was impatiently waiting for Usha to come, so he could share this dream with her, and she could share her dreams with him, and they could fulfill their dream of creating love and harmony around them. He was sure that they would be able to do so, but Usha had to come home first.

On the morning of 2nd of November, when he had woken up after a restless night and still with no news of Usha, Murti had made up his mind. He had already decided that if he hadn’t heard from Usha by 1st November, he would go looking for her. And it seemed to be the case. He had to go to Kashmir.

It being a Sunday, the post office was not going to open, so Murti went to ring Dutt, from Pasha’s Dhaba, who had allowed his clients to use his phone to make calls, though at an exorbitant rate. Murti just wanted to check with Dutt, for the last time, if he had any news from Kashmir, before he went to Srinagar himself.

At Pasha’s Dhaba, he saw, many people huddled around, listening to the news. He also joined the crowd.

Prime Minister Pt. Jawahar Lal Nehru’s speech was being broadcast:

“We have decided to accept this accession and to send troops by air, but we made a ‘condition that the accession would have to be considered by the people of Kashmir … when peace and law and order have been established to have a referendum … and we shall accept their verdict…

Extracts from Nehru’s Broadcast on 2 November, 1947 @ https://www.mtholyoke.edu/acad/intrel/nehru1.htm

Listening to this speech, Murti mumbled to himself,

“But how does this help us at this moment, Panditji. How do we know what is happening now, when there is no peace nor order in Kashmir?”

According to the latest developments, the situation in Kashmir had seemed to be somewhat better. With its accession to India, and the arrival of the Indian Army in Kashmir to protect its people, there seemed to be some optimism.

But still, neither Murti nor Dutt had been able to find out about the whereabouts of their respective wives, and their whole family. They had no idea whether they were all still there in Srinagar, or whether they had left to go somewhere, whether the girls were safe or not.

Once people who were listening to the news had left, a queue had started to form, by those who wanted to use the phone to make a call to someone, whom they were trying to contact their loved ones, those they had left behind, those loved ones, whom they might never see again.

Murti stood in the line to wait for his turn, thinking, whether Usha was safe and if she would ever be with him. And then the worst thought would raise its ugly head in his mind, that, she was not safe, she was lost, and he would never see her again.

Going through this gamut of emotions, Murti slowly crawled to the phone. He gave some coins to the clerk who connected the number. Dutt picked up the phone and gave the best ever news to Murti.

“Usha, Nanna and Baby left Srinagar on one of the Indian Air Force planes last evening!”

“So they must have arrived in Delhi”! Murti was shaking with happiness.

But soon his relief turned into anxiety, as Delhi was a big city, and the girls were all alone there, for the first time in their lives, without their parents or anyone to protect them, guide them. How would they find their way around? He was worried for their safety once again!

But Dutt assured him that they would be safe at their Auntie’s house, where they were supposed to have gone from the airport. He also had the phone number of this house in Delhi and soon he was going to ring them there. He asked Murti to ring him in the afternoon, when he would have some news of the girls.

In a state of his mixed feelings, feeling happy, then anxious, and helpless, Murti went home.

He had however, started to prepare for Usha’s arrival. He went to the shops to buy some groceries, and picked up all Usha’s favourite types of food. At home, he cleaned the house, tidying up the bed, the cupboard, and then picked up his books, and started to prepare his lessons.

In the afternoon, Murti again went to ring Dutt. He was full of excitement, when he said “hello” to Dutt, as Murti was sure, he was going to tell him, that the girls had arrived at their Auntie’s house, and they were safe and sound and would be coming home soon.

But the minute Dutt came on the phone, he dropped the bomb shell, he said,

“Murti, they are not at their Auntie’s house, at the house they were going to be. I have the right number, but someone, who picked up the phone, had said that the girls hadn’t come, they had many guests, their relatives from Sialkot, and Pindi at home, thirty of them, but no one had arrived from Srinagar so far!”

Hearing this devastating news, Murti started to swear, and shout at Dutt, that how could that be, they had taken the plane and arrived in Delhi, then after that where did they go? He asked Dutt to give him the address of their auntie, as he had decided to go to Delhi to find Usha and Nanna.

Dutt gave him the number but also requested him not to take that step, as what if Usha arrived in Khanna, and didn’t find him there? Then what would she do? So, the best option, he had said, was to stay put and wait for her, wait for some news, good or bad, but stay in Khanna.

And finally, Murti could see some sense in this decision, as Delhi was vast, and if she was not at her auntie’s place, then where would he find her. After all, she had the address of his college, and their house in Khanna and she would come here only, this was her home, so maybe not tomorrow, but eventually, she would arrive here.

And for the first time in his life, Murti prayed to god, and asked for Usha and Nanna’s safe arrival.

Usha and Nanna had been sitting on a bench at the Srinagar airport. It was almost 6.30 pm, 1st of November. They were waiting for the aeroplane which was going to take them to Delhi. After a couple of nights in Delhi, at their Auntie’s house, they were going to take a train to reach Punjab, at least that was the plan.

Baby was sleeping on a makeshift bed of their two clothes bags, between them. The girls were also very tired. While waiting for the announcement for them to board, Usha drifted into sleep.

So much had happened in the last few days, that she had not had energy or time to even think, worry or even hope about anything!

That fateful night, after Pitaji had handed out knives to all the girls, and Usha had been waiting with her life and her death in her hand, waiting for the “dreaded Kabaliaas” to come, she had written a long letter to Murti. Writing on every inch of the postcard, she had given him the good news about their baby and had promised him that she would remain safe and would meet him very soon.

While promising him to stay safe, she had expressed her eternal true love for him. She had quoted some lines from one of Murti’s favourite poems, ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’, by Keats, one of the Romantic poets, from early 18th century England:

“She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, for ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!”

O’ lover, though you can’t have your desires fulfilled, but as long as you love your beloved, she will remain beautiful in your imagination.

Murti had explained to her that the poem was about the everlasting beauty that is in Art, like the beauty of something in one’s imagination, which always stays the same, young and beautiful, in contrast to the fleeting, temporary youth, beauty and love, in human life, which fade with time.

The message of the poem, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, … that is all, Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know,” is so similar to our “Satyam shivam sundram“, Usha had thought!

Yes, the truth, that is moral, is beautiful!

And what matters is that we accept it.

She was going to leave the letter for him, and even if something happened to her, she had thought, ‘How proud he would be of her!’

Somehow, Nanna had gone to sleep and Burpi and Usha had remained awake, waiting, late into night, dreading what might happen. Burpi, who was the quiet one in the family, had shared some of her feelings with Usha that night, saying that she was really worried about the family, and her future.

Usha and Nanna, being married had the option to come and go, Burpi had said, but she had no such choice. If Pitaji left Kashmir, as it was getting unsafe to stay in Kashmir, she will have to leave the only place that she had ever known. And if they go, where would they go, she was feeling really uncertain and insecure. And this night, this attack if that happened, what would be their fate! She had pointed at the knives that Pitaji had left for them.

Taking her hand in her hands, Usha had assured her that all will be fine.

Nothing bad will happen to anyone of them, she had promised Burpi.

And at some stage they had also fallen asleep, and when they had woken up in the morning, they were surprised that the dark night had passed, with nothing untoward happening to them.

The birds were chirping in the backyard, and they could hear Mataji’s voice, from the kitchen, singing Pitaji’s favourite morning song.

This was going to be her most favourite song too, Usha had thought, as she had started to hum it

“Uth Jaag Musafir Bhor bhai…”, Oh traveller, wake up, it is morning and the night has passed, it is no time to sleep”.

Mano had come to their room, and was teasing sleeping Baby with the corner of her sheet, and suddenly, the morning looked just like any other normal day.

They had later found out, that how very lucky they all had been the previous night, as the Kabaalias who had been moving fast towards Srinagar yesterday, had by chance stopped for the night in Baramulla, which was just a few miles away. They had remained there enjoying the forced hospitality of some poor villagers, eating sevian, a sweet vermicelli dish, and having a feast to celebrate their expected victory on Srinagar the next day.

This one night’s delay in their planned attack on the city, had turned out to be the game changer, as that very morning, the Royal Indian Air Force planes (Dakotas, the aeroplanes that the air force had) had brought the much-needed protection to people in Srinagar.

With the arrival of the Indian army, the situation in Kashmir, had completely changed. The military troops had counter attacked the Kabaliaas, who had been unaware of the developments taking place, and had no idea that the king had requested assistance, and in return, had decided to be part of India, and that the Indian army had arrived.

Not only were the people in Srinagar saved that day, but the militants lost ground completely. Caught unaware, many of them were killed, and the rest had run back to where they had come from, at least for the time being, as Kashmir valley would remain a target of such infiltration for years to come, making it a hot bed of unrest and communal violence.

In the evenings, when, the empty Air Force planes which had brought troops and ammunition in the morning, had to go back to Delhi, for reinforcements, they had opened the passage for Indian civilians. A great wave of excitement had spread among Kashmiri Hindus and Sikhs, who wanted to leave, or at least wanted to send their women to safety.

However, it was only very rich people who could afford to travel by air, as the tickets were quite expensive. Usha’s parents didn’t have much money, so there was no chance for them to take this opportunity to get out of Kashmir. 

Many of the Kashmiri Hindus were well established businessmen of Srinagar, and there were many who were doctors, or academics, and for generations they had all considered Kashmir to be their homeland. They didn’t want to leave, but for the time being it was considered wiser to send the womenfolk away to safety. And that is what many other people were trying to do too, sending their young girls, their wives, and children to safety.

For Usha and Nanna’s father too, it was more important that at least his two married daughters, the parayian dheeyan, meaning daughters in law of other families, reach their respective husbands, safely. And it was his responsibility to get them there.

When Usha and Nanna came to know about the flights to Delhi, they started asking their parents to pack up and leave with them,

“we can all go together to Delhi”, Nanna had said to her father, offering him all her jewellery.

But, Pitaji wouldn’t budge. He had already decided to send only Usha and Nanna by air, and to take the rest of the family to India by some other cheaper means.

Moreover, it was almost impossible for Pitaji to arrange for the whole family to leave Srinagar in a day or two. First was the money issue, then packing up the house hold forever, or for a long period was not going to be quick, so even if he tried to beg or borrow money, it was going to take days if not weeks for them to be ready to leave.

So, at Mataji’s behest, Pitaji decided to ask some of his insurance clients for help, to organise some money, at least for two tickets, for the girls.

But after organising the tickets, organising transport to the airport turned out to be harder than what Pitaji had imagined.

He didn’t own a car, and to find a taxi in Srinagar during those days, was not easy, or even feasible, as sending the girls alone was not safe. But the girls had to somehow reach the airport to catch one of the flights.

After two days of nothing happening, the girls started getting desperate, so Pitaji spoke about the situation to a few of his friends and clients. Luckily, looking at their predicament, one of Pitaji’s clients offered to send his driver and jeep to take the girls to the airport.

Next day, in the morning, Pitaji asked Mataji to make some Halwa, the sweet semolina and purified butter dish, while he started to assemble material to have a havan, a yajna. He wanted the whole family to participate in offering their gratitude to param pita paramatma for sparing their lives, and also to ask for strength and courage for their future, and their journey.

Making offerings in the holy fire, Pitaji and Mataji chanted the Havan mantras, the hymns, which the girls were slowly repeating.

They started with Gayatri Mantra.

Om Bhur bhuvah swah, tatsavitur varenyam bhargo devasya dhimahi dhiyo yo nah prachodayat.

O God, the giver of life, remover of pains and sorrows. You are the bestower of happiness, and creator of the Universe! You are the most luminous, pure, and adorable. We meditate on you; may you inspire and guide our intellect in the right direction.

And finished on the shanthi mantra

Om asato ma sad gamaya. Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya, Mrityorma amritam gamaya, Shanthi, Shanthi, Shanthi, Hari Om!

O Parampita parmatma! Lead us from untruth to truth; lead us from darkness to light; lead us from death to immortality! Let there be peace!

modified from https://www.aryasamajhouston.org/resources/articals/daily-vedic-family-prayer

After the puja, the family kept sitting together, singing some other bhajans and songs, and talking about their plans, trying to cheer each other up. Afterwards, they had a meal together, may be for the last time for a while!

After lunch, Pitaji asked them to be ready to leave, as the jeep could arrive any minute. After hugging everyone and saying tearful goodbyes, they came outside to wait. But they kept waiting for the whole afternoon, into the evening, the jeep didn’t come.

Next day again, at Pitaji’s behest, the girls got ready. Mataji had cooked their favourite dishes, but no one felt like eating, so she packed some roties and some pickles for them to take with them. But that day again, they all waited till 4 pm, but the jeep didn’t come. The sun was going to set soon, and it was going to get dark, so around 5.00 pm, they just gave up, and started preparing to stay the night, when the jeep arrived.  

Suddenly, there was no time for long goodbyes, as the driver told them that they had to be at the airport as soon as possible. There were no tickets anymore, he told them with a smile, “the flights are free from today!” People just had to be at the airport to join the queue to catch the flight.

With tears in their eyes, the girls said a quick goodbye to their parents, and sister, Burpi, and the little ones, Jay, Beeru, Teeli and Mano, they clung to their older sisters, not letting them go. Baby finding it amusing, started to clap and laugh, but everyone started to cry, even Pitaji’s eyes were wet. With great difficulty, the girls managed to separate themselves, to get into the jeep.

When the girls were about to get in the jeep, Pitaji pressed some money, that he had, in Nanna’s hands, but she refused to take it. She had a little money, and Usha also had some coins, so she argued that they had enough to take a Tanga, a horse carriage, from the airport to their auntie, their father’s sister’s house in New Delhi. The money could be used to organise the rest of the family’s escape from Srinagar.

“And Pitaji, please leave as soon as possible”! The girls begged their father to take the rest of the family to safety soon.

Once inside the jeep, Usha was surprised to see many other women and children sitting at the back, and then she realised that so many people, who couldn’t have afforded earlier must have decided to send their women and children to Delhi. The driver told them that the previous afternoon, he had made two trips to take some of his boss’s family and friends to the airport, they were very rich, and had taken even their servants with them, that is why he had had no time left to come to get them.

The jeep left quickly taking away the girls, and all the women, and the children, who were all sitting silently in the jeep, on the way to the airport, dreaming of reaching India and safety soon.

After their arrival, Usha and Nanna had to wait to be called to board the plane. Sitting on the bench, they started to relax a bit, and Nanna took out the roties that Mataji had packed for them, so she could feed Baby a little bit. She herself was not very hungry, but she asked Usha to eat at least one roti.

“I wish I could just have a cup of tea”, Usha had said a bit loudly.

And suddenly, they heard a familiar voice,

“Arei, is that Usha?”

They both looked up, and there was this beautiful woman, in a woolen jumper, wearing a man’s trousers, standing there and smiling from ear to ear. It was Chandra!

Usha stood up immediately, recognising their uncle’s friend from Lahore. The woman, who had decided to take up her career as a journalist more seriously, than thinking of settling down, and marrying their uncle.

She offered them some tea from a flask that she was carrying in her big bag, and gave Baby a few biscuits that Baby enjoyed, while they started to have a chat.

“No, I’m not flying, I’m just here to report on what has been happening in Kashmir”.

She had been interviewing some women waiting for the aeroplane, and collecting some first hand news for her newspaper. She had talked to many people, and had even visited some areas where incidents of communal violence had devastated both sides of the divide, Hindus as well as Muslims.

Their flight was soon announced, and they said goodbye to Chandra, who promised to let their father know that they had boarded the plane safely.

Thus the girls joined the large number of refugees coming to India, after the partition, fleeing communal violence, running to safety, with their meagre belongings.

It was their first air travel, and both were a bit apprehensive, but their journey to New Delhi was smooth and uneventful. They talked for a while and then they both dozed off, waking up just as their plane was landing in Delhi.

By the time they all got off the plane, it was quite late to go anywhere, so most of the passengers stayed at the airport, sleeping on the benches, or even on the floor, in corners, wherever they could find space to stretch out.

Luckily, Usha and Nanna found a bench on which they just huddled together, sleeping, and dozing away the night. They were waiting for the morning light, so they could get out and find a way to reach Karol Bagh, a suburb of Delhi, where their Auntie, Pitaji’s sister lived.

Around 5.00 am, Usha heard someone calling out, “All the girls, please have some hot tea and some matthies (salty, pastry snacks). Especially girls, if you are going to fast, come and eat quickly, as your Karwa chauth fast starts in half an hour”.

Suddenly, Usha realised that it was the day of Karwa chauth fast, that she had been planning to keep for Murti’s long life. And yes, she would certainly still keep it, she decided. There were still some stars in the sky, which were becoming faint. She quickly woke up Nanna and told her about the announcement. Till the stars were visible, they could eat something and drink tea, after that they had to stay without food and water for the whole day, till the moon rose at night. 

In Punjabi culture, when a newly married girl keeps this fast for the first time, she receives many gifts, including a variety of sweets, dry fruit, and all the delicacies she likes. It is a kind of a festival in her family, and she adorns herself with henna and wears new glass bangles. At dawn, she partakes of a festive breakfast, and then enjoys a relaxing day. In the evening, she again wears beautiful clothes and jewellery, and looks at the moon with her husband, who helps her break her fast by giving her water and sweets.

But Usha started her first karwa chauth fast, in her humble attire, wearing no jewellery or make up, her hair plated in two plats, sitting on a bench at the airport, drinking a cup of sugary, milky tea. She would then stay hungry for the whole day, with no assurance that there will even be any food at the other end of the day, and she knew for sure that Murti wouldn’t be there to offer her water and sweets.

At least Nanna and Baby were with her, she thanked god. They also had some nuts and a few sultanas that Mataji had put in her bag when they were leaving home last night.

So, after their meagre breakfast, Usha and Nanna waited for a while, and around 9.30, 10.00 am, as the morning became brighter, they went outside to find a Tanga to go to their auntie’s house.

The Tanga driver was an older man, who loved to talk, and insisted on asking them many questions, and giving them advice on what they would need to do to reach Punjab. The girls were quite tired, almost exhausted, and remained quiet.

But, being kind-hearted and polite, Usha kept answering his questions and saying yes, no and thank you etc.

When they arrived at their destination, Nanna carried the sleeping Baby inside quickly, while Usha stayed back to settle the bill with the driver, and to get the luggage. She paid him extra with a few coins that she had in her pocket purse. The driver insisted on carrying their meagre luggage in for her, and lucky he did, as the minute Usha stepped into the house, she heard a lady saying to Nanna,

“Sorry beta, I can’t keep you here. I have a full house as all my in-laws from Pindi and Sialkot, are staying with me, there is hardly any space for them, as many of them are sleeping in the veranda,” she indicated to the huge crowd of people, men, women and children, milling around in her courtyard.

As their Auntie shut her door on them, the Tanga Walla, looked at their white faces and carried the luggage back to the carriage.

By then Baby had woken up and was crying, she was, tired and hungry, and scared, and so were both Nanna and Usha, though they were not crying loudly.

They just looked at each other, only exchanging glances, as the thought troubling them both was the same, they had no roof over their head, and soon it would be dark. Where could they go?

In Khanna, Murti was getting restless. He was worried sick for Usha, whom he had left in Srinagar, when he had come back to Punjab at the end of August.

India had gone through a lot, since its independence and its partition, that had been harsh, cruel, and bloody.

People on both sides of the newly drawn boundary lines were killing and being killed in communal riots. There were train massacres, and in cities, and villages, people from all religions, whether Hindus or Sikhs, Muslims or Christians, were being slaughtered by mobs of people gone crazy with their religious fervour. Even, doctors in the service of their patients, had not been spared.

The way how the partition of India would pan out, had not been envisioned by anyone, neither the British, nor the politicians or leaders of the two major political parties, who had been involved in the negotiations pertaining to this decision to divide the country geographically on the basis of religion.

During the years of their Raj in India, the Britishers had played dirty at every step to create division between people. They didn’t shy away from creating differences between North and South Indians, with their theory of Aryan invasion, which naturally created doubts in the minds of Indians, to question their own inheritance, their Hindu or Hind (originating from Sindhu valley civilisation) culture, which had been theirs for millennia.

Similarly, by creating new categories of citizenship in India, which identified people by their religion, and not by their place of birth, in their census, the differences between Hindus and Muslims were highlighted. It is not that these two religions didn’t have differences and had not clashed earlier, as that had certainly been happening, but this was an official division among people, something that not even any of the Mughal emperors had done. Whether Hindu, or Muslim, Sikh or Christian or Jews, Indians had considered themselves to be one people, with different ways of worshipping their respective gods. 

When the British did finally, in spite of their reluctance to do so, leave India, they left a big mess behind them. Other than the partition of India, which had been a direct product of their divide and rule policy, they also played the religion card in letting India’s princely states like Hyderabad, Kashmir, Junagadh etc. decide whether they wanted to remain independent states or become a part of India or Pakistan.

As a result, there had been clashes between Hindus and Muslims and their rulers.

Kashmir had been quite a peaceful state, though, due to the majority of the population being Muslim, and the king being a Hindu, there had been incidents to disturb its serenity. Right in June even before the British had left India, Muslim farmers from the Poonch area in Kashmir had revolted against the Hindu king, refusing to pay any tax to him. These Pathan farmers, at Pakistan’s instigation, had started to raise the slogan of Kashmir’s freedom. They didn’t want Kashmir to remain under a Hindu Maharajah, neither did they want it to be part of India, and many didn’t want to be part of Pakistan either. They wanted a free Kashmir, an Azad Kashmir.

However, these incidents that had occurred in the rural areas, had not impacted on the life and the lively hood of the people living in cities. Also, Srinagar had remained untouched by the mayhem that especially Punjab had to go through in the past few months, with people still moving around, and relocating after the partition.

Murti and Dutt, when they had left Usha and Nanna in Srinagar at the end of August, had thought that after a few weeks, when the situation in Punjab would settle down, the girls would be able to join them.

It was now the end of October, and still there hadn’t been any news of their coming to Punjab. Murti was getting restless.The last post card that Murti had received from Usha’s father had been on 20th October, and according to that, the girls were coming home by the 30^th of October. But right around 25^th of October when he was going to confirm their arrival date, the communication between them had broken.

Neither Murti, nor Dutt knew, whether they had left or were still in Srinagar. Both of them had written letters and had sent a couple of urgent telegrams to Pitaji, and had rung him at his Arya Samaj Bhawan, where he usually went everyday to pray or meet his Arya Samaji friends, there had not been any response from him.

As per the news, that was coming out of Kashmir via media, the situation was worsening everyday. Amid clashes, between the Pathans and the Maharajah’s puny little army, militant Afridis, who had been been filtering in from Pakistan’s northern hills, had attacked Kashmir.

These ruthless tribal militants coming from the unruly, wild area of North Pakistan which touches Afghanistan were known as Kabbalias in Kashmir. They were notorious for their cruelty, their robbing and killing of people everywhere. People were terrified of their treatment of especially women and children, whom they considered to be the booty of their victory, along with other precious things.

Each day, these dreaded Kabaalias were getting closer to Srinagar, which seemed to be their endgame. There was no one to protect the people of Kashmir, especially Hindu and Sikh people, who were their target.

On 26th October, the news of Kashmir’s agreement to be part of the Indian dominion had been welcomed by everyone in India, as this meant that Indian army could be sent to protect people in Kashmir, who were wreathing under the tyranny of militant Afridis creating a mayhem in Kashmir.

But the next day, the news, splattered on every front page of the newspapers that Murti devoured, was that the Afridis had reached Barramullah, which was just a few miles away from Srinagar. This news shook up Murti completely, and everyone in India, who had loved ones in Kashmir.

When the news of the Royal Indian Air Force planes landing in Srinagar was announced, Murti was relieved a bit. But still he had no news of Usha or her family, whether they were safe, and if they had escaped the attack.

The days were running into each other, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st October, and everyday that was passing, was adding to his misery.

Where were they?

Where was Usha?

Was she safe, or even alive?

Being a student of English literature and Philosophy, he did have a philosophical attitude about life, but this situation was creating such a havoc in his mind, and of course in the minds of people around him. There was a sense of homelessness all around, which had created fear, doubt and hatred for the other.

The division of a country so intricately woven with the diverse religious and cultural coloured threads, was not as simple as a woman giving birth, it was the amputation of various parts of her body. The mass movement of people running or being driven from one part of India to the other, and vice versa, could never have been envisaged by anyone, even those who had decided to divide their own country.

There were people returning from Punjab and other parts of India, which were now in Pakistan, and similarly, people from India were trying to relocate to Pakistan. Even Murti’s land lords, the old Muslim couple had left Khanna, leaving the house they had lived in for generations, in charity to the local mosque, to go to Lahore, to start a new life at their age.

It is said that that loss of one’s homeland can impact on one’s identity, as one loses one’s self, and “the loss of self hood” cannot be appeased by anything,  and in the face of the trauma suffered by millions of these people, Murti could feel the hollowness of whatever he had read and learnt in his life.

Neither, the philosophical explanations of human nature, and culture, nor the great, classic English poetry, that had always given him solace had any respite for him during this difficult period in his life. He was leaning more towards Indian philosophy, and sufi poetry for some tools to practise detachment.

Looking at some of the books and magazines that Usha had accumulated, in her short period of time in their house in Khanna, he came across, her Hindi books, and saw Kalidas’s poem, Meghdoot, the cloud messenger, which gave him some solace, in the form of the acute pain that he felt resonating his own, in its couplets.

In this poem, a Yaksh, who had been cursed to stay away from his hometown, and his beloved for one year, sends a love message through the cloud, which becomes a way of expressing his grief and helplessness, in the most beautiful, poetic manner.

Murti sat down and read this poem in one go. Reading about the hero, Yaksh’s pain of separation from his beloved, Murti realised, how much he had missed not being able to see Usha, listen to her chatter, her laughter, her singing, her cooking, just everything about her, he was homeless without her.

Dutt was also in the same situation, and was just as worried about his own wife, Nanna and Baby, their little daughter.

Like Murti, Dutt had also been trying to contact Pitaji, and since he had access to his friend’s phone where he was staying, he had been ringing the caretaker of the Arya Samaj bhavan, close to their house in Srinagar, to get some news. But since 27^th October, he hadn’t been able to get through, as no one had picked up the phone.

On 1^st of November morning, Murti decided that if he hadn’t received any news of Usha by the end of the day, he would go to Srinagar to look for her.

He went to ring Dutt in the morning, to tell him about his plan. A couple of days ago, when he had spoken to Dutt on the phone, both of them had decided to go to Kashmir to try to find their respective wives.

They had promised each other, that if the girls had died, or been taken by these Kabaliaas, they were going to join the Indian army and kill some of those savages, to avenge their loss.

While waiting at the post office for the operator to put him through to Dutt, Murti was thinking, that the day had arrived to do so, to kill and get killed!

The cloud messenger would not be able to do much in this situation, he thought, he had to take his own message to her! He had to go to Srinagar.

And Murti was ready to embark on his mission.

Autumn and Spring months are beautiful in Kashmir, colourful and fragrant , sunny and warm, quite different from the Winter and Monsoons months which though still beautiful, are moist, and wrapped in mysterious fogs, clouds and snow. Especially in Autumn, as the saffron harvest gets ready, and chinar (a beautiful, majestic deciduous tree) gets all fiery with its leaves turning burnt red, the mellow and fruity flavours, mingled in the air, create a concoction of colour and fragrance that can be intoxicating.

And that year in 1947, Usha’s whole family was enjoying its last few weeks in Kashmir together. Usha and Nanna were enjoying their extended time at their parents’ house, among their younger brothers and sisters, being their mother’s ‘girls’ again, after being married off. The parents were happy to have all their children with them, safe and comfortable. The days of Autumn were leisurely, lazy and the nights were relaxing and getting longer. The evenings would come to an abrupt end with the sun setting, leaving enough time for the family to sit around, huddled in the kitchen together, singing their favourite Bhajans, religious Arya Samaji songs, before having an early dinner, and afterwards having long chats and story telling in the sitting room. Then usually after a nightcap of warm saffron laced milk, everyone would retire to their respective bedrooms.

Nanna and Baby were sharing the room with Usha, and both will drop off the minute they hit the bed, sleeping immediately, but Usha would read into the night, usually a story book, a novel or a magazine. She had always enjoyed reading something before going to bed, but while she was in Khanna, she had stopped reading story books as Murti would rather she studied her syllabus books, which did not always make great bedtime material. Well, while in Srinagar, especially after Murti left, she had picked up her old habit again and had recently started to read a novel that one of her friends had given to her.

The story that she had been reading, was intriguing but what stuck in her mind was the name of a character from the story, because it was a beautiful name, and she decided that it would be her first son’s name. Usha would whisper the name under her breath, yes, it was a beautiful name for her first child, as she was sure that she was going to have a son first, and yes, she was pregnant.

By mid September, when she had already missed 4 weeks, feeling shy, she had spoken to Nanna, who had told her straight away; “You are pregnant” but then Usha had vowed her to secrecy, as she did not want to tell Mataji as yet. Considering the situation in Kashmir, Usha did not want her mother to have yet another thing to worry about.

But Usha, herself was on cloud nine. The morning sickness had luckily spared her, rather she was usually ravenous in the mornings. She had never been a big eater, but now it seemed as if she was always hungry, wanting food, anything. So she would come to the kitchen at odd times, early morning, an hour after breakfast or late in the afternoon, looking for some goodies that Mataji would have made. Mataji had been making all of her and Nanna’s favourite sweet things, such as malpoore, rich pancakes pinniyan, besan laddus, carrot halwa, khatayian, savian and savoury items, such as matthia, besan ki savian that Mataji made in bulk to serve with tea, then there were always the leftovers, like stuffed paranthas, biryani, fried okra and eggplant, and pakode, fritters.

Usha had not even told Murti, as though she had wanted to tell him about her pregnancy, but could not find words to write in the letter to share this news. She was now waiting to give him the good news in person, when she would meet him; and suddenly, she was keen to go home, to her husband and her own house in Khanna.

Murti and Dutt had both left Srinagar towards the end of August for their respective destinations. Dutt had gone to look for a job, and was somewhere in Punjab, where he had been promised a job in a college soon, and Murti had gone back to resume his job at his college in Khanna. They would both be sending for their respective wives soon.

And the plan was that both the married girls were to go to their respective homes before Diwali, and after Diwali, Mataji and Pitaji were going to pack up and leave, and this time, not just for the Winter, but for ever, as they had finally decided to leave Kashmir, leaving their house in Srinagar and their second home, in Jammu, the two places, where the family had spent its last 20 years.

Bhabhoji and Dr Saheb, Mataji’s parents had now moved from Lahore to Meerut, which was a growing city in Uttar Pradesh, a few hours journey from New Delhi. In Meerut, they had rented a house, which was a far cry from their palatial house in Lahore that they had had to sell before coming to Meerut. However, even if it was not a palace, they had somehow set up a comfortable abode in their rented house, so those friends, and relatives who had to leave their cities, and houses, which were now in Pakistan, could have a place to come to.

Mataji’s parents had also sent for their daughters and their respective families to come and take shelter with them before finding their own respective places in independent India. Mataji, who had been very close to her parents, especially her father, and had been visiting them every year for a few months, decided to go to Meerut to their house, for a few months, before deciding on a place to live.

She had actually been to all the exotic places that Dr T.V., as Mataji’s father had been known, had been posted, of course when she was unmarried she had lived with her parents, but after her marriage also, each year, she had regularly visited her parents as with Pitaji and then with their kids, had spent a couple of months where ever they were.

Dr T.V. had been posted as civil surgeon at quite a few places, both in India and overseas, for example he had gone from Delhi to Rangoon, in Burma, then to Hissar, then Rawalpindi, and finally Lahore, where he had settled down after his retirement. But now with the partition happening, Bhabhoji and Dr Sahib had to move from Lahore, and before they would finally settle down, they would make one more move, going to Chandigarh, a new 50s city, that had not even been born as yet in 1947, as it would be in 4 years time that this city would be founded. Meanwhile, right after the partition, they had moved to Meerut, because of some relatives, Bhabhoji’s sister and brother-in-law, who were posted there.

Nanna and Usha and the other kids had always visited all the places, where ever their grandparents had lived, but it was their Grand father’s house in Lahore, where Usha had been married just that year in January, that they had the most memories of.

Usha and Nanna, being the older girls also had some faint memory of other places, especially of Hissar, where their grand father had lived very close to a jail. They remembered the beautiful grand circuit house where they had all spent a few months of very luxurious summer holidays, when they had been still quite young. Usha remembered that they had been the little memsahibs going around in the jailer’s automobile around the city, surrounded by security guards.

And then one late evening in Hissar, while they had been playing hide and seek with some cousins in the vast area around their house, adjoining the jail, Nanna had run into the jail court yard to hide, without knowing that it was out of bounds, as in this area no outsiders were allowed. Suddenly, as she remembers, she had come across, a motley group of people, there had been a prisoner, surrounded by rifled soldiers, being taken away, with a priest and her own grandfather in the tow.

Someone from the group had spotted Nanna, and she had been taken back to the residential quarters quite roughly, by one of the soldiers, at her grandfather’s orders. She was later given a lecture on trespassing and all the children had been strictly forbidden to go wandering to places where they should not go. Even though, Dr TV had made some story about the prisoner and the soldiers to distract Nanna and other kids, who had been traumatised, to this day, Nanna is sure that the prisoner, she had seen that day, was being taken to be hanged. Maybe he was a freedom fighter!

What a horrible memory, but so thrilling.

Well other than these ‘interesting’ places, where the family had gone for shorter periods in their summer or winter holidays for a couple of months, Usha and her siblings had not known any other place other than Kashmir, as their home. Usha for example, who was born in Jammu, had spent all her life in Kashmir, staying either in Jammu or Srinagar.

So, everyone was naturally a bit sad about leaving Kashmir, but Kashmir was not a safe place for them anymore, as right after 15th August, 1947, the situation in Kashmir had started deteriorating. First of all, after getting independence from the British, the King or the Maharajah of Kashmir had decided to remain an independent state. He did not want to be part of either India or Pakistan, the two new countries that had taken birth after the independence and the partition of United India.

However, both, India and Pakistan had their eyes on the state of Kashmir which had been known as the crown of India, the most beautiful state, and both wanted it to be a part of their dominion. Moreover, due to its strategic location, since it was right between the two countries, both the countries were keen for Kashmir to be part of them individually. The King, however, wanted to remain an autonomous ruler of his state.

Then there was also an unrest brewing in the state, as the general public was not keen to abide by the wishes of the king. The Hindus living in Kashmir were keen to be part of India, but the majority of the population of the state which was Muslim, wanted to live in a free and independent Kashmir. Especially, the Muslims from the Poonch area did not want to remain under the rule of a Hindu king, but also did not want to be a part of India or of Pakistan either.

The King and the people of his state however had not realised their vulnerable position. The king had considered his state to be self sufficient and capable of looking after his people’s needs and safety, but things were to change in a few weeks time, once the British left*.

Tribal warriors, or Afridis, from the northern region of Pakistan had started to filter into Kashmir right from the mid September. Assuming the state to be unprotected, they took to attacking the northern parts of the state. These warriors, who were called Kabaalias by people in Kashmir, started to create a havoc in the state attacking people in surrounding villages, and townships.

The Maharajah with his puny little army of a few hundred was no match to these ferocious tribal warriors, who did not have any qualms about killing men and male children, taking away their women, who were mostly raped and killed or taken as slaves across the border, along with other valuables loots.

By October end, these tribal bands had attacked the area of Muzaffarabad, moving eastwards to capture Baramulla, very close to Srinagar. Some of the fighters had reached the outskirts of Srinagar. The invasion not only traumatised a previously well-settled and peaceful Kashmiri society, it also set a disastrous pattern for India-Pakistan relations.

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-41662588

Finally, the Maharajah was left with no choice, but to ask for help from India to send its military for the safety of his people.

Meanwhile, the tranquility and peace in Usha and Nanna’s world had come to an end, with a jarring noise of “they are coming, they are killing, hide the girls”, the shouting of helpless Hindus living in that part of Kashmir. No place was safe anymore. The Kabaalias who were approaching Srinagar fast, had been killing men and raping women on their way, leaving a trail of death and carnage in the villages they had covered to reach their destination, Srinagar.

In the street, where Usha’s parents lived, most houses belonged to Hindus, both Brahmins and Arya Samajis, but there were also some Sikh families, and a few Muslim house holds who had been living at the southern end of the street. Everyone was afraid as they were all scared for their women folk, Hindus and Muslims alike.

One night, right after the Sunset, Pitaji asked Mataji to serve a light dinner to everyone, and after that, he and his Arya Samaji friends, who had also brought their families to his house, started a vigil to protect the house and the women in it. They shut all the windows and doors barricading the house and started to go around, from the entry of their street to the house and around, with whatever weapon they could put their hands on, kirpans, the little swords, and knives, mudgals, and sticks, getting ready to face the Kabaalias, to kill them and be killed.

It was 25th of October, and that very night, the King was going to request India to send the Indian military to protect Kashmir and its people. His request would be accepted,

“in response to your Highness’ appeal for military aid action has been taken today to send troops of the Indian Army to Kashmir to help your own forces to defend your territory and to protect the lives, property and honour of your people”.

Mountbatten’s (who was India’s last Viceroy) conditional acceptance of accession. From the Text of Lord Mountbatten ‘s letter dated 27 October, 1947 to signify his acceptance of the Instrument of Accession signed by the Kashmir Maharaja. https://www.mtholyoke.edu/acad/intrel/kasmount.htm

India did agree to provide help, but it will be provided with a condition, as that very day, India would decide to send its troops in response to his appeal, however, to obtain this aid, the Maharajah had to sign a document stating his state’s accession to India, thus in return for gaining the protection of Indian army for his state, he had to be part of India.

http://jklaw.nic.in/instrument_of_accession_of_jammu_and_kashmir_state .pdf

Unaware of all these behind the scene political manoeuvres, Usha and Nanna were trying to keep busy in their room that night, where Baby and other kids were all fast asleep. Usha was reading her book, and Nanna and Burpi were both doing some embroidery and talking. They were laughing at something that Usha had read out of her book, when Pitaji and Mataji both came to their room. They were shocked to find the girls so relaxed, and Mataji said, “Aren’t you afraid my bachhiyo, kids?”

Nanna replied, “We are too young to die Mataji, we still have to do so many things, Usha is going to have a baby!”

Mataji hugged Usha with tears in her eyes. They all started to hug and sob a bit, when suddenly Pitaji interrupted them, saying,

“Girls, listen! If we are attacked tonight, make sure that they cannot find you.” His voice was emotionless and his face white, as he handed out small knives to each of the girls, “If nothing else works, kill yourself, as getting into their hands will be tenfold worse than dying!”

*“During July and August, League agents worked clandestinely in Alwar and Bharatpur, and the Poonch region of Kashmir, encouraged local Muslims to take up arms against their Hindu overlords; at the beginning of September, Pakistani authorities in the Punjab initiated a ‘private war’ against the still independent Kashmir darbar by stopping supplies of fuel and other essential commodities from crossing the border,” (Copland, 1991, in The Princely States, the Muslim League, and the Partition of India in 1947).

July had almost ended, and the month of August was about to begin, and Usha and Murti were having a long relaxed holiday with Usha’s parents, in their house in Srinagar. Usha had come back to Srinagar for the first time after getting married to Murti. She had lived in Punjab during this time and had spent around six months away from Srinagar. She had enjoyed her time with Murti being his wife, looking after her house in Khanna, but had missed her home during that time.

Usha had strong ties to Srinagar, the city as well as her house, as her childhood had been spent there, and now having all her siblings, plus Murti with her in this beautiful place, made it a very special time. Once, Nanna and Dutt had also arrived with the baby, they had a full house, making Usha, Nanna and their parents very happy, with all their dear ones with them, under one roof.

With a few adults and children of all ages, and it being a holiday period meant they needed activities both practical and for fun, which could divide their long leisurely days of summer into manageable segments of time, keeping the whole family occupied. The school holidays meant none of the kids needed getting up early and going to school, studying etc. Hence, they needed constant entertainment, food, and looking after, which naturally occupied everyone.

To address both these issues, Murti had recruited most of them in going for long morning walks to Srinagar’s beautiful parks or natural reserves. Spending a couple of hours, roaming around and enjoying the natural scenery, they would come back happy, excited, full of stories to tell, as well as hungry and quite tired!

Murti and Dutt would wake up early and gather their troops, Burpi, Tilli, Mano, Jay, except for Biru, who was still quite little to go for long walks, and neither of the men wanted to carry him around, if he got tired, already Mano, Jay and Tilli were quite a handful, needing continuous coxing to walk especially on the track back, and usually Jay would be on one of the men’s back, enjoying a piggy back! So all these kids, who could walk, and sometimes Usha and Nanna would come along to these walks.

Baby, Nanna’s daughter of course had to be left in Mataji’s care, and she usually slept peacefully hardly waking up before the walkers came back home.

Baby was a toy for the whole family. Everyone wanted to pick her up, Murti would pick her up, playing with her, bouncing her up in the air. Amid Nanna’s screams, and “Murti please don’t drop her”, Usha’s requests, and Baby’s giggles, there will be laughter all around.

Baby loved being the centre of everyone’s attention in the family and especially of her grand parents, as she would run to them each time when Nanna tried to feed her, finding a shelter from the forced spoons of food, which Baby didn’t want to eat. Everyone loved her, Burpi and all the children, who were all actually her uncles and aunties too, though they were still young, and she loved playing with them.

Usha loved her niece, and taking her in her lap was heavenly. Sometimes, if Nanna was busy, Baby would come to Usha when she was tired, and Usha would sing the lullaby that she had heard Nanna sing, to put her to sleep.

“Dheere dheere aa re baadal, deheere dheere aa, mera bulbul so raha hei, shore tu na macha!” Asking the clouds to be quiet, as my little one is sleeping”!

Even if she was playing and Nanna or Usha, who both had melodious voices, hummed the lullaby, Baby would start getting sleepy. She wouldn’t know where she was, and with whom she was playing, she would get drowsy and start humming too. Not knowing anything else but just the crooning of the lullaby, and the safety of her mother’s or Auntie’s arms, she would be ready to fall asleep.

Actually those days, full of laughter, good food, long sleeps and contentment, were similarly soothing for everyone.

It seemed that time had actually stopped around them, and the whole family was enclosed in a safe cocoon, under the spell of a lullaby, remaining untouched by things happening outside, whether in Kashmir or rest of India. Though they were actually quite aware of, both the celebrations for independence and the heartbreaking movements taking place with people running away to safety, with scarcity of things and fear growing and grief following them at the same speed.

Trying not to think much about the situation, the family was engrossed in their mundane comfortable routine.

The news was however always something that brought more of such images to mind, and Murti and Dutt would listen, analyse, discuss and then argue for hours.

Dutt had witnessed at first hand the hatred brewing in Hindus against the Muslims, and vice versa. He would relate incidents that how people who were neighbours, were becoming suspicious of each other. These people, who had lived together for hundreds of years, were showing signs of enmity against each other. After all, he would say, these people came from such a diversity of beliefs, that for them to stay together would have been difficult.

Murti would argue, that that is the very reason why any decision for a religion- based division of Indian population was unwise, as it was not possible to flare up religious differences without flaring up of other differences which would result in dire consequences. It would not be possible to divide this diverse population, who was knitted into the fabric of society, so close, that no peaceful separation was going to be possible.

Murti would refer to that even the British had not found the partition to be a good solution, believing that a united India would be the best solution. No matter how much they didn’t want to let go of their Raj in India, the British, it was said, had tried to leave an undivided independent India. As, in 1946, while speaking in the British parliament, the British Secretary of Home affairs had presented a case against the partition of India.

A statement, which had been presented by the cabinet minister, Viscount Addison, had concluded that any attempt to divide such a diverse population would be disastrous, clearly stating that, “neither a larger nor a smaller sovereign state of Pakistan would provide an acceptable solution for the communal problem”.

Nanna and Usha knew that with the approaching Independence and the partition, things would change everywhere and for everyone. Like so many Indians, they wanted to celebrate the long awaited independence, knowing fully well, the other changes that would take place. Still they wanted to hang on to the optimism of the leaders giving speeches and planning for the rebuilding of the nation.

A country, which had remained under the British rule for more than two centuries, was finally going to be free of the ruler who had squeezed the country dry, to fill its own coffers, taking away the riches that India had been known for, India was called the Golden Bird, and leaving a poor, deprived country in its wake, an underdeveloped India with no industry of its own.

The day arrived, amid celebrations, people all over India, who couldn’t be in New Delhi, including Usha’s whole family in Srinagar, had all remained glued to the radio, waiting for the clock to strike 12 on the night of 14th August, and give birth to 15th of August, 1947, as at the stroke of midnight, a nation was going to die, a new nation was going to be born for its ‘Tryst with destiny’!

Nehru’s speech, the world had been waiting for, at least their world, Usha thought, said it all

At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new…

It is fitting that at this solemn moment we take the pledge of dedication to the service of India and her people and to the still larger cause of humanity.

… We end today a period of ill fortune and India discovers herself again…

Are we brave enough and wise enough to grasp this opportunity and accept the challenge of the future?

….To the people of India, whose representatives we are, we make appeal to join us with faith and confidence in this great adventure. This is no time for petty and destructive criticism, no time for ill will or blaming others. We have to build the noble mansion of free India where all her children may dwell.

Tryst with destiny – extracts from Nehru’s speech on the birth of independent India https://www.hindustantimes.com/india-news/a-new-star-rises-

In this speech, Nehru, the first Prime Minister of independent India, gave a signal to thousands of Indians to get up and start the good work, building nation and to serve the bigger cause of humanity. Everyone who heard the speech knew it to be a message of hope, a call and an invitation to go on an adventure, to get up, to build their future, their nation’s future, and like thousands of young men, both Murti and Dutt woke up with a restlessness.

They realised that they couldn’t just stay in their holiday paradise, they had to get back to reality, in their new Independent India. So it was decided that Usha and Nanna would stay on for a few more weeks in Srinagar, while their men would make a move to test the waters, before they all plunged into it.

In Dutt’s case, he had to find a job, since Rawalpindi, where he had worked so far, was no more part of India. He had to explore some other avenues.

Being a college lecturer teaching history, especially with his first hand experiences of the freedom fight, Dutt would be a great teacher, but would he be able to get a satisfying job, and where in Punjab, in what part of Punjab, in the new Punjab, that was now in India, he was not sure.

Similarly, for Murti, it was time to go to his job in Khanna, to his home, and pick up the thread of their life, in an independent India. He had a job, but he was already thinking beyond Punjab, as his Punjab had changed, and India was vast and maybe there were other states that he could try to go to and get a job, he could teach anywhere. Usha could finish her study, and join him in this noble profession of teaching, in serving the nation, and then they will have children, maybe one will be a doctor, another an engineer, and a teacher… There were many possibilities, suddenly Murti was excited for the coming future.

At the end of June in 1947, Murti and Usha came to Srinagar, to spend a few weeks at Usha’s parents’ house. Murti had summer vacation at his college for a couple of months. So after a short visit to Pind Munawa, Murti’s ancestral village in Punjab, where his parents, Bibbee and Babaji and brothers were, Usha and Murti arrived in Srinagar. Their plan was to stay there till August and then Murti would go back to join his job, but Usha was going to stay with her parents till September. Hopefully, by then things would have settled down after the mayhem created by the partition and the independence of India.

Reaching Srinagar, especially after suffering the scorching, sultry summer of Punjab, Usha took a sigh of relief. She had enjoyed her time in Punjab, especially being Murti’s wife and running her own house hold as a married woman.

But she had missed her home and the beautiful weather of Srinagar.

Now being welcomed by the whole family, caressed by the cool and fragrant air of Kashmir, she was soothed by the breeze of lush green chinars. Enjoying the pleasant weather, and the beauty of the summer flowers in this heavenly valley, Murti and Usha realised what a blessing it was to have a place to come home to in a place like Srinagar.

The first day back in this heavenly place, within just hours, both Usha and Murti, forgot the harsh days and nights of summer they had spent in Khanna and Munawa.

Even after years, when talking of his time in Kashmir, and his love for ‘hill stations’, a love shared by his future family, Murti would always say

Gar Firdaus bar-rue zamin ast, hami asto, hamin asto, hamin ast.”

Meaning

If there is any paradise on this earth, it is right here, it is here!

This quote is a tribute to Kashmir’s natural beauty that has been attributed to Jahangir, who was one of the Mogul emperors to have loved this beautiful valley.

And this place, this piece of heaven will continue to attract numberless Indians and international tourists to come. And thousands would keep coming to spend their honeymoon in this blissful valley.

Usha and Murti spent the next few weeks, doing exactly that.

The days were beautiful and nights were being spent in a blissful manner. Usha would sleep in as being at her mother’s house, she didn’t have any responsibility.

Sometimes she would sleep in staying in bed till 7:30 or 8 am, while mataji would be taking care of cooking breakfast and getting children ready for school. Burpi, Usha’s younger sister who was 16 year old, was now the oldest of the children and would help her mother in these chores.

Murti as usual would wake up early and go for a long walk, and his habit of always bringing some sweet fruit buns, bread etc would help mataji by taking care of the breakfast.

Murti who had always done exercise in the morning, had started doing yoga with pitaji. And suddenly they had found a few things to talk about and would spend quite some time together.

Murti was interested in what Pitaji believed in and practised, like worshiping only one god, paramatma, by paying homage to Him through offerings in the fire, and singing hymns praising natural forces.

Murti knew that Arya smaj society, that Pitaji belonged to had beliefs which were different than what his own family had believed in. Arya smajis, like pitaji didn’t believie in temples, idolworshipping and caste system.

However, these principles were basically, what he himself had always practised, as Murti was not a great temple goer nor did he carry on any religious rituals at home.

He also didn’t discriminate anyone on the basis of religion or caste, the reason how he had ended up marrying Usha, who was not a Brahman like him. Brahman caste was considered the highest of the four caste in India’s system of dividing people by birth, depending on which caste people were born in Brahman or the other of the four castes.

His time away from the worldly life, when he had spent 6 months in Haridwar trying to be a monk, had actually given Murti a new perspective on what a Brahman actually needs to be.

Being a Brahman, having the privilege of access to holy scriptures and being respected in society, Murti believed should make one into an educator, a doer of deeds to help those less privileged, and it should not just be about being a priest chanting hymns and taking money to absolve others’ sins.

Murti therefore associated being a Brahman to being a scholar, and his scholarship while going to the library in Haridwar, studying all religions, exploring vedas and Bhagawat Geeta for months, took him away from religion. Then his chance meeting with Swami Satyanandji geared him further towards spiritualism through his message of Ramnam, just chanting the name of Ram, keeping purity of body and mind, and healthy living habits.

So for him, mostly, it was the Vedic knowledge of being a good learner, and the belief in the power of yoga, the joining of mind and body, that appealed to him in Arya smaj. He had always worked both his mind and body to their fullest, and now knowing the value of this mind body balance was great for him, something that he had been doing and would keep practising all his life.

One morning Usha woke up a bit earlier and came down to a very quiet house. When she opened the bathak, the big room, which served as the drawing cum sitting room where pitaji always sat and received guests, she found both men standing on their heads. Presumably they were doing sheersh aasan, the upside down pose, which is one of the hardest poses in yoga.

But both the men looked quite funny with their eyes glazed, their heads on pillows and legs up in the air. Giggling she ran to the kitchen where her mother was making a big pot of tea. They both had a good laugh before taking the tea tray outside.

Once she woke up and came downstairs, Usha would always try helping her mother. And then during the day she would be studying a bit something that Murti made her do and then also looking after her younger siblings, before and after their school, something she had always done, but now it gave her a new perspective. Looking at her youngest sibling, who was hardly 4 years old, she would imagine how her own child would be. She was ready to be a mother, she felt.

She was waiting for Nanna, her sister and her husband, Dutt to come to Srinagar to join them for the rest of the holidays. She wanted to talk to Nanna and ask her so many questions, and share so many feelings, which had started to keep her mind occupied and further distracted from studies, that Murti insisted she had to finish in the next couple of years, and of course before having children.

She had actually grown up quite a bit in the six months that she had spent playing real houst- house in Khanna, and would insist on giving her mother a hand in cooking and learning the tricks of keeping a well stocked kitchen.

Mataji, however would shoo her away to go and have a walk or go out and chat with Murti, something that Usha loved to do most times. Mataji was glad to have them and showered them both with all her love, care and delicious food, that Usha had missed in the last few months.

Sometimes the whole family will go for a picnic to one of the gardens or just anywhere out and every one would get a chance to relax and play in the fresh air. Usha tried to meet her school and college friends, but it was her best friend, Fatima that she wanted to see the most, but couldn’t. Fatima had moved to another place that much she knew, but she could not find anyone who had their contact details. Fatima was a Muslim and her family, which had lived in Srinagar for generations, had suddenly left Kashmir, breaking all their ties with the place and the people they had loved.

And in the same vein, many people were making a move to go elsewhere. Those who had some family connection, any relatives, in other parts of India or Pakistan, they were moving there, as soon as they could.

India, as it was clear, was going to pay a big price for its independence, as Indians from both sides of the divide, whether they were coming to or going from the reshaped India, or the newly minted Pakistan, had to pay it.

Punjab was to be divided, where for centuries, Hindu, Muslim and Sikhs had lived together! And it was the same in Bengal, another state in India, where a huge population of both Hindus and Muslims, speaking Bengali language, had been living together. The state was to be divided into two parts, just as was the case in Punjab, where Punjabi language had bound people of both religions living together for hundreds of years!

As a result, thousands of Indians, who had been living in different parts of India for generations in each others neighbourhood, whether they were Hindus, Sikhs or Muslims, were going to be displaced.

As July was rushing towards August in this fateful year of 1947, people all over India would soon be, if they were not already doing it, making a move to find a new home elsewhere.

Mataji and Pitaji had also started to think about moving from Kashmir, something that Usha was not aware of.

Kashmir was not in Punjab or Bengal, the two major states which would get the brunt of the partition, but it had its own issues. The king of Jammu and Kashmir was a Hindu, and the majority of his state’s population was Muslim. He had however, decided not to be part of either nations, neither India nor Pakistan. His had been an independent kingdom, and he was planning for it to remain so. But the strategic location of his state would make it a bone of contention between the two new countries. These new countries India and Pakistan, who used to be parts of the same country, just like two brothers from a family, but once separated, instead of being good and supportive neighbours would become rivals.

In this climate, things were uncertain everywhere and in few weeks time, as the date of independence and the partition of the country was approaching, anything could happen.

As religion or culture had become a dividing feature of this nation that had celebrated its diversity, communal unrest like a wild fire would spread violence everywhere in the streets of its villages, towns and cities.

That day, in early June, when Murti had been late in coming home from his college, Usha had shared her worry with her kind landlords at whose door she had knocked for help.

However, while she was speaking to the older woman and her husband, the thought about Murti’s history of leaving home and disappearing for months had come to her mind, and her worry about Murti being late had accelerated to another level that she couldn’t even share with them. She couldn’t even drink the shikanjawi, the home made lemonade that the kind older woman, Hameeda had put in her hand.

She was thinking, whether Murti, who had not come back home that day, was even coming back!

Maybe just as he had done a few years ago, when he had left home and gone to Haridwar to become a monk, he had done it again!

Oh, my god, Murti wasn’t going to come back!

Usha covered her face with her hands to stifle her own crying.

Ahmed Sahib, her kind land lord, not knowing how to help this crying young woman, spoke to his wife,

“Ok, Hameeda, you take care of her, I will go and check at the shops, as sometimes, I have seen Murti listening to the news at Pasha’s dhaba“.

Then he added, “the news is not good today, as they have made the decision about the partition in their leaders’ meeting in Simla”!

He took his stick from the corner and walked to the door. But as he opened the door, lo behold, a flustered Murti appeared framed in the door way. With his hand lifted, as he must have been about to knock at the door, he burst into the room saying, “Ahmed Sahib, have you seen Usha, my wife?”

Usha got up quickly from her seat, and everyone took a sigh of relief as Usha and Murti both saw each other.

“Begum, give some shikanjawi to this young man too, and ask Teja to make some snacks, I don’t think either of them have eaten anything today”, Ahmed Sahib said to his wife!

Both Usha and Murti looked at each other. Finding them a bit hesitant to accept their hospitality he smiled and said to his wife,

“Doesn’t he look just like Mansood, when he used to come home flustered, tired and hungry?”

Murti knew that Mansood had gone abroad to study a few years ago, and after coming back from England, he had been a changed person. He went and found a job in Lahore, and got married there.

Since then he had not come back home. Presumably, he had decided to move to Lahore to be close to his wife’s family. He had been urging his parents to sell up their property and move there too. But, for Ahmed and Hameeda, home was not Lahore, it was Khanna where they had lived all their lives, and their forefathers had died.

Hameeda, wiping her tears nodded and left the room to go to the kitchen. Usha quickly sat down on the divan and gestured Murti to also sit down.

The older man waved to the other chair for Murti to sit down.

Going to his own arm chair where he presumably always sat, just like Usha’s Pitaji always sat in his chair at home, he quoted a couplet from the famous poem, written by a great Urdu poet, Iqbal, a few decades ago!

Sare jahan se accha, Hindostan hamara! Hum bulbulein hei iski, yeh gulsitan hamara!

How beautiful our Hindostan is, the best in the world, we are its chirping birds, and this garden is, our home!

Then with great sadness he added, “not a good day for our Hindostan dear!”

India or Hindostan, as it had been called for years, (the word, Hind, Hindu, Hindia, India, have all come from the word Sindh or Sindhu, orginiating from the distorted version of the word Sindhu river and its civilization), where everyone whether Hindu or Muslim was proud to be called a Hindostani, was going to become just Hindustan!

“Yes”, Murti said, “Ahmed Sahib the news is not good today for most Indians. The leaders have made the decision about the partition of our country in their meeting in Simla”!

Murti had actually stayed back at the college for a meeting, and then as the news came in about the decision taken at the Simla summit where representatives of the British Viceroy had been meeting with both the Indian Congress and the Muslim League leaders, a kind of a pal had set on everyone. The college principal had extended the meeting to an emergency meeting to discuss the consequences.

There had been sadness all around, but then in Murti’s colleagues, just as there were some people in both the political parties, who had been supporters of the two separate nations idea, were speaking in favour of the partition. They argued that it was the right decision, as the leaders from the two Indian parties, The Indian Congress, supposed to be representing united India, and The Muslim League, representing the case of partition, and asking for a separate country for the Muslim population, had both agreed for the partition.

A new country right out of India’s body and soul was to become a reality, its own part was to become another nation, Pakistan.

Yes, they all knew that it had already been decided that the British will leave in 1947, but that they will leave the partition of India in their wake hadn’t been taken as a reality. Though it had been the eventuality given the divisive winds shaking all the parties involved, that no one wanted to face. Neither the British nor the Indians or their leaders. The very word partition was jarring to one’s ears.

But today 3rd of June, in a summit in Simla, the summer capital of the British India, the dreaded decision had been taken. Everything was finalised how the country, for whose independence, all Indians had fought for years, was to be divided.

On one hand, there was the celebration of independence, the most coveted thing every Indian had fought for, but then this partition was the result, the fasle bhhar, the bitter harvest of this struggle for independence!

Being a great follower of Gandhi, and a supporter of his call for communal harmony, Murti had been very upset at the prospect of the partition.

In the mythological SamandR manthan, when gods and demigods had churned the ocean to obtain Amrit, the potion of immortality, a variety of treasures had been found, but then along with Amrit, Vish, the deadly poison had also come out of the ocean!

It is said that Lord Shiva had drunk the poison to save the world from this venom that was threatening to engulf everything good in it.

And now this freedom struggle, the independence and the partition all seemed to be just like SamandR manthan!

Murti said, “to save India, someone has to gulp down this poison otherwise it will spill every where”!

Murti had been worried about the situation for a while, but he had never shared these worries with Usha. He hadn’t wanted to show his fear and doubts in front of Usha and scare her, but he had often thought that maybe they should move to some other state.

That evening after coming back home from their landlords’ house, Murti had said to Usha, “The situation in Punjab is going to get worse. Maybe we can go to Srinagar for a few weeks. We can go after the exams are finished in the college, as in July, I’ve summer holidays till the end of August. Then I can come back when the college reopens, but maybe you can stay on for a few more weeks with Pitaji and Mataji. I am hoping that by September things will have settled down and then we can decide what to do”!

Usha nodded looking happy as well as a bit uncertain.

Just as Murti had considered Punjab to be his home, Usha, who was born and had been raised in Srinagar and Jammu, had considered Kashmir to be her home.

Yes, it will be a good move, and maybe Murti could get a job there, Usha started dreaming.

At that stage Murti and Usha didn’t know what Kashmir was going to go through after partition!

Like wild fire, the venom of the partition would spread hatred and violence all around, making people take extreme sides due to prejudice, fear and mistrust, and taking the steps one may take in desperation.

The poet Iqbal, who had written couplets like “majhab nahi sikhata aapas mei ber rakhna, hindi hei hum watan hei Hindostan hamara”, meaning religion doesn’t teach us enimity, we are all of Hind and Hindostan is ours, will leave his beloved country Hindostan to adopt a new home Pakistan, a country born out of religious prejudice and mistrust.

Well, in a country divided on the basis of religion, “where and what place would be home?” will be the question to create a twist in this story of most Indians, whether they lived in Punjab, or Bengal, whether they were Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims or Christians!!

“And could there be any place that was a safe haven for them, where they could live in peace”?

The coming months were looking grim and dark!

It was 1947, and there had been a buoyancy in the atmosphere as the year was slowly moving towards the promised day, the day of India’s expected independence in the middle of that year, August 1947.

But there was also a rising discomfort and uncertainty about the possibility of the partition of the country. The question troubling the leaving British, and the Indian leaders and the people all over India was that, what impact the partition would have on the people living in those parts of India, which were supposed to be divided!

Being a happy and content person, Murti had been happy to live in Punjab, where he had lived all his life, except for a few months when he had taken up his first job in Srinagar! Now, having his teaching job in a private college, and living in a rented house in Khanna, a small township in the Ludhiana city of Punjab and travelling on a bicycle to and fro, he had been happy.

Just last year, when Murti had rented this house, he hadn’t even worried a bit that the house was in a Muslim majority area, and it was also owned by an elderly Muslim couple, a fact, which had meant nothing a few months ago!

But suddenly now there was an unease building all around, making people aware of who their neighbours were. And most of the people that Usha and Murti knew had started to become quite upset.

With all these changes going around, the weather had also changed by the end of April, getting warmer each day. Usha, while setting up her house hold was finding the heat in Punjab quite uncomfortable.

She also found their one bedroom house too small as she couldn’t sit in her varandah in the day time any more. There was no fan, and no electricity in the varandah, so in the day time Usha had to stay inside her bedroom.

Not used to such hot weather, and doing so much of house work for the first time in her life, Usha was finding it doubly hard. Going across to her small kitchen, which a few weeks ago had seemed enjoyable, was suddenly getting tedious. She still tried as Murti was usually ravenous when he got back home from college, wanting food, and he enjoyed Usha’s cooking, though she had started to feel quite uncomfortable making roties in that heat.

By the month of May, each day, the sweat that her body poured out in the time she made the lunch, would make Usha almost dizzy. She would take a quick bath before serving lunch and then would be so tired to eat that after just playing with the food in her plate, she would go off to sleep. The afternoon sleep was her saviour, as when she would wake up it would be around sunset, and getting a bit cooler, bringing some respite from the heat.

Murti who rode a bike to and from his college, had started wearing a hat, since it was getting quite hot in the midday when he came back home. In the afternoons, he would go to the shops to buy some ice and every evening instead of a cup of tea, they would have some cold milk with a couple of Khataiya, the grainy cookies, bought at the local Sindhi bakery and then go for a walk.

At dinner time, Murti had started to get roties made at the local tandoor, the earthen oven at the outdoor dhaba, his favourite place, where he could take the dough from home, to get roties made for a small amount. Soon, he also started to buy daal, the cooked pulses, from the place, to ease Usha’s burden. Moreover, he loved his tandoori roties with the daal from the dhaba, his favourite food forever.

Thus, so far, Murti had fixed most of the problems, whatever kind they were, which Usha had to face in her married life, and it seemed that he himself never had any problems. He had always worked hard and he knew that he had the potential to achieve much more than what at that stage he thought was enough, and similarly, he also believed in everyone working hard to achieve their potential too.

He wanted Usha to start studying and preparing to start her graduation. He had brought some books and copies home and expected Usha to be studying in the afternoon. Most days, there will be enough leftover roties from the previous night, so Usha didn’t have to make any. She only had to make some sabzi, vegetable curry or dry vegetable dish. Then Murti would also bring fresh yogurt and lassi, butter milk, with him on his way home, that they could have with their lunch.

But after lunch, Usha wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes open, and would go straight into the La La land. Everyday, Murti would leave some reading and writing tasks for her, which he would expect her to do before lunch.

However, Usha wasn’t able to do much study in the day time either, as being a married woman now, she had started to enjoy being a wife. Her house chores occupied her in preparing everything for her husband while keeping her thoughts away from studies as well as from what was happening all around.

She didn’t feel the urge of the uncertainties that Murti was going through, or for that matter, what everyone around her was going through. Being a bit naive, she had remained quite oblivious to what was happening around her.

For most people, the radio was a constant companion as each day, there were speeches, debates and commentary on what and how the long-awaited independence will be obtained, and what the consequences were going to be. Murti would come home full of these uncertainties, but would keep them hidden from Usha.

One afternoon, in early June, Murti was late from work in coming back, very late. It was not that he had never come late, as sometimes, he would have a meeting or a follow up class, tuition etc, but he would warn her before hand, or would come home by 2 or 2.30. But that day, he didn’t come for lunch at all. It was 2 PM, then 2.30, and then 3 pm, and then 3. 30, and then 4 PM.

Usha couldn’t stand it anymore. Worried and upset and angry, she couldn’t keep waiting for another minute and decided to go looking for Murti!

Where could she start, Usha thought. Who did she know in this city, hardly anyone! So finally she decided to go to their land lord’s house to ask for help. She had met the older couple, a couple of times, when she had just come to live in this house. The first time when Murti had taken her to say hello to them, as they were after all their Landlords, the woman had given some shagan, a small amount of money in a beautiful silk purse to Usha that she had cherished.

She put a chunnie on her head covering half of her face as well and knocked at the back door of the big house.

There was no answer. It was a hot afternoon and she knew that most people would be having a siesta, an after lunch nap, as it was too hot to do anything else.

Usha knocked for a while and then went to the front and knocked at the front door. After a few knocks she had lost any hope of being heard by someone when suddenly she heard some voice and realised there was some movement from inside. She was almost about to cry with relief when she heard the door being unlocked.

An old woman covered in a big grey coloured chunnie opened the door and let Usha inside. Usha almost collapsed on the divan that the woman led her to. The woman was actually their landlady, Hameeda. She called her husband from the other room, who had been asking her about the commotion, to come in.

“What’s the matter, dear?” He asked Usha tenderly.

Usha couldn’t even speak. Hameeda poured some water from a Surahi, a small earthen pitcher, into a glass and gave to Usha. She patted Usha’s back and asked, “Kya baat hei beta?”

With tears in her eyes, and in a trembling voice, Usha told them everything about Murti not coming back from college for lunch as he always did. She finished by adding, “Murti has never done this before, and now, I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared”.

And the minute she said that, she caught herself thinking,

“Oh my god, he has done this before, a few years ago, he had disappeared for 6 months”!