At the time of the Partition of India and Pakistan, my father was 12 year old. He is visiting with me from Pakistan and last night I had a talk with my Dad. We often have long conversations, but this one was unusual. I asked him what he remembered as a young boy growing up during that period. After a long silence, he says “what have you reminded me of, ask me son, what is it that I don’t remember”. Here goes my Dad for about 4 hours:
In a small village of District Sargodha (name withheld), there were 17 Hindu families (17 that he could recall). There was a Mandar (Hindu Chapel) in the village. Religion was never an issue. Hindus were part of the village community like all other groups. My Dad had Hindu friends, Hindu teachers, Hindu shopkeepers. He remembers Amar Nath Suri, who had a bookstore in the village. He remembers Dr. Roshan Lal (village doctor), Fakir Chand (English Teacher), Mulak Raj (Math Teacher), Hans Raj (History Teacher), GhiGhi Ram (Science Teacher) whose son was my Dad’s class-fellow. But most of all he remembers Madan Gopal, his childhood friend. Madan Gopal and my Dad were very close. They were like brothers. I could see a couple of tears coming out of his heavy eyes. That was precious. For me to see my Dad recall his childhood friend. Those memories, he says, will go with him into his grave. He then told me the wonderful time they had with all their Hindu friends. He gave me enough material for me to write a 50-page chapter on each of the people above, which I will one day.
I asked him, “what happened when the country was divided”?
There were small riots in the midst of this uncertainty of not knowing what is happening. It was a small village, unlike cities, news didn’t reach there right away. Radio was the only source, and there were only 2 or 3 radios in the village. The house of Dr. Roshan Lal was set on fire by some hoodlums. 2 people were killed. My dad got emotional again. Long pause.
“What happened after that? What role the village leadership play?”
The village leadership got themselves together, asked all Hindu families to fold up, collect their belongings and we will provide the passage. Whatever belongings people could fit into boxes, they did, collected their Gods, and headed towards the train station. The village provided 20 Jawans (my relatives included) who rode the train with them to provide security until the border crossing at Wahga (Lahore). After that whatever happened to those families is not known.
“Did you ever try to find out what ever happened to those families?”
In 1963, he got a letter from Amarnath Suri, who was then General Secretary of some business association in Jalindhar. He sent his regards for everyone in the village, and asked about the well being of each and everyone in the village.
“Did you ever follow up?”
Yes. I wrote back to him. We lost contact after the 1965 war.
There is so much that he remembers. And there is so much guilty that I feel about those two deaths. I want to meet with the relatives of Dr. Roshan Lal, and ask for their forgiveness for the sins of my fathers.