Partition of India - Divine Intervention! Part II

Continued from Part I which MUST be read to get the complete picture and clarity

Since I am a Punjabi privy to direct feedback from the family, Punjab is the focus of this Partition article.


My parents in Lahore with my eldest brother, Arvind, who passed away prematurely this March 2008.

The Partition of India especially hit home very hard. I am part of a family which truly reflects both the pre and post -partition India story. I am the only sister of six brothers. Three of my oldest brothers were born in Lahore in pre-partition India, the part of Punjab which is now in Pakistan. (As I pointed out in Part I, the British province of Punjab was divided between India and Pakistan.) Four of us were born in post-partition and free India in New Delhi. So it is almost like there are two generations within the family and understandably there is a lot of gap in terms of years and culture between the oldest three and the youngest four... Needless to say, our oldest brothers were like father figures to us and as is traditional in our culture, they were respected accordingly. What follows is information gleaned from the many dinner discussions while growing up in New Delhi, the capital of India...

My mother with the three oldest brothers with my grandmother who was a true matriarch of the family in Lahore.

My parents were born, brought up and educated in parts of Punjab, now in Pakistan. Father was a bureaucrat in the British civil service and his father was a Magistrate in the British judicial system. India's independence movement under Gandhi and the Indian National Congress was in full-swing in those years and the British policy of divide and rule at every level had finally achieved their desired impact of pitting the Hindus and Muslims against each other.

Essentially in the months preceding and following the partition in August 1947, communal tensions and violent confrontations became rampant only to reach unimaginable depths of human depravity when the country was actually divided.

Folks like my parents whose home was Lahore refused to believe that such atrocities were happening. My father a tall and imposing figure, both stubborn and overconfident in his physical ability to protect himself and his family which included my grandmother (grandfather had passed on), my mother and his three young sons under ten, waited till the last minute to leave in August 1947. Essentially, it was hard for him to accept that he would have to leave home, his friends and his entire lifestyle for what seemed an unknown world on the other side... He kept believing much to my mother's dismay that all this was transitory-he could not fathom how his lifelong Muslim friends and neighbors could ever turn on him. Father's ability to go into denial about life's realities was both an endearing and frustrating trait for my mother till the end of their lives...

Anyway, as I am told, father only started realizing the gravity of the situation when he was actually advised by a close Muslim friend to stop being foolhardy-yes everyone was not caught up the communal madness- and that he should take his young family and flee as the mobs would descend on our family home any day now. Arson and murder was regularly taking place in the homes next door. Finally, very reluctantly, dad started preparing the family and even then he left the family servant behind as a caretaker of the vast property they had to abandon, thinking that they would be coming back when the madness had calmed down. Family rumor has it that he even asked his mother to stay back, telling her that he would return after leaving my mother and brothers in safe haven on the India side. It would not be polite to translate here what my totally aggravated grandmother told her son in Punjabi (our native dialect) - something to the effect of "over my dead body!!!" This is, of course, the censored version of her colorful disbelief.

Now here if it wasn't such a grave situation, it would be quite funny.... My grandmother, ever materialistic and thrifty started hoarding up all the family treasures and jewelry rapidly, packing all that she could fit in her limited luggage space and my mother, the eternal intellectual with her love for academics, started packing the school books for her three young sons instead telling my dad that it was important that the kids studies not get interrupted in all the time they would be refugees on the move.
My brothers went to a school run by the British nuns. In India Catholic schools used to be quite coveted due to the quality of education instilled through tight discipline often delivered through the proverbial painful ruler raps.

Anyhow, the family somehow made it to the railway station in nerve-wracking conditions in horse-driven carriages with luggage piled high. The railway station had thousands of refugees squatting on the platform waiting for the India bound train. There was complete pandemonium. The train was delayed for three hours!. Nerves were on edge and there was tremendous terror about the possibility of the arrival of Muslim mobs because this was now their land - Pakistan!

At one point, I believe that a few miscreants brandishing daggers did approach my father after having gone through and robbed the belongings of the other huddled families, but father's larger than life persona came into play here as he in a show of complete confidence pulled himself straight and told the goons that he was a senior officer in the British government and he was going to return after he left his family on the other side. Amazingly, they believed him and they left leaving a hushed and terrorized family behind. Father's bravado was his signature and helped him through many life situations... Throughout his life, he never let on to the outside world his inner quaverings...

Three bewildered little boys escaping with their lives in 1947

Arvindji-the eldest. In Indian culture you add "ji" as a sign of respect.

Rajeshji -the second oldest- I lost this brother too tragically years ago

Ashok who kept demanding that he wanted to go back and play with the family help while gun shots could be heard on the railway platform and the terror-struck family waited for the arrival of the train to India....

Finally the train arrived and there was a mad mad rush, pushing and jostling, thrusting kids and women into the train first till by miracle everyone got on board. Even then the train didn't move and tension was building up in the compartments with windows and doors bolted and further bolstered by heavy luggage. Finally after many false starts, the train moved and the passenger fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and terror. Little did they realize at that time how lucky they were! Due to Divine Intervention, their lives had been saved. Apparently, because of the huge delay, the mobs that were waiting en route to stop, ambush, plunder and massacre the passengers had got tired of waiting and dispersed otherwise yours truly would not be writing this story.

Tragically, these mass killings were happening on both sides because of the ineffectiveness of the newly-formed governments and complete breakdown of law and order. This is the darkest and most shameful period in the history of the sub-continent and movies and books galore have been written on this tragedy of undefined proportions.

Anyway, by divine providence the train arrived in Delhi where there was total bedlam, but now the atmosphere was much lighter as the Hindus were in free India - on their own turf. How my family restarted its life from a scratch in New Delhi, after finding shelter with various relatives initially, is a story for another time....

Partition of India - Communal Backdrop - Part I

en.wikivisual.com/index.php/India

Previously, I talked about India's Independence Day celebrations on August 15 when it became free from British imperialistic rule in 1947. Today, I would like to shed some light on the tragic developments that took place in the state of Punjab in Northwest India in the summer and fall of 1947 when India was partitioned into two sovereign nations of India and Pakistan simulataneously while it gained independence.

A day before on August 14, 1947, the Islamic Republic of Pakistan was created and comprised of two parts-West Pakistan with the provinces of Punjab, Sindh, Balochistan, and the Northwest Frontier Province (NWFP), and East Pakistan with the province of Bengal. East Pakistan later became the independent nation of Bangladesh in 1971. (See the map)

Essentially, Indian subcontinent was partitioned as a whole with the two large British provinces ofPunjab in the Northwest and Bengal in the East divided roughly in half with predominantly Muslim regions becoming a part of Pakistan and its predominantly Hindu regions becoming a part of India. Making matters more complex and messy was the the difficulty in arranging the accession of princely Indian states to one country or the other before the set dates of independence for India and Pakistan leading to the genesis of the current Kashmir conundrum to be addressed later. These princely rulers were not under the direct colonial rule and had their own legal arrangements with the British Crown.

The split of the country is directly linked to the British strategy of divide and rule which became their diehard policy ever since the violent and widespread revolt of 1857 when Indian soldiers both Hindu and Muslims had mutinied in unity and almost overthrown the British colonists. Thereafter, the colonies had come under the direct rule of the British Crown. (Earlier the colonies belonged the East India Company that had initially come to India to trade for spices, cotton, and other indigenous goods in the 1600s.) The 1857 revolt is also referred to the First war of Independence as it had the first stirring of Indian nationalism. The British government shaken to the core by this strength in communal unity, followed consistently and actively its infamous policy of divide and rule at every echelon of government and society. The result- was that the Muslims under the leadership of Mohammed Ali Jinnah of the Muslim League were demanding a separate state i.e. Pakistan. The demand for an Islamic state after independence led to the partition of India with horrific consequences.

Before British rule, the Muslim rulers especially the last ruling dynasty, the Mughuls, had made India their home in the truest sense. Consequently there was fusion of Muslim and local art, architecture and daily life customs leading to the creation of some of the finest works of art and architecture like the Taj Mahal in Agra, still held in awe by the world. For centuries both the religions were followed by indigenous people who shared the same languages, socio-cultural mores, and history. Due to the British calculated policies of separatism, the Muslims and Hindus, who had lived relatively peacefully for generations with occasional clashes that were generally localized and small-scale, now started harboring mutual suspicion and hatred which led later to major organized violence.

British imperialism was a different story. India's wealth was drained for centuries and racism was acutely felt by the "natives". Case in point - My father, a very erudite man, who almost killed himself literally studying around the clock to make it through the rigorous Indian Civil Service examination so as to join the exclusive ranks of the bureaucracy did not last long under the nakedly discriminatory British administration. He was too proud, too independent and too brilliant to put up with the injustices. But that is a story for another time.

The partition of India resulted in one the largest and bloodiest migration of its kind in the world when according to most estimates between 10 and 12 million minorities crossed the boundaries between India and Pakistan. This period was marked by unbelievable communal violence and bloodshed characterized by riots, loot, arson, murder, rape and abduction with unimaginable atrocities committed against women, children and the elderly. The most common and potent form of violence was massacres by mobs on both sides of the border, inflamed by communal passions who butchered defenseless families in trains, village and refugees who were trying to flee from one side of Punjab to the other. This violence resulted in the brutal killing of some 2 million Sikhs, Muslims and Hindus. It would be no exaggeration that the country is still healing from the wounds from these devastating events...

Post-partition, Pakistan's border with India has caused innumerable border clashes leading to heightened mutual antagonism and hostilities which have assumed global dimensions and grave international concerns because both the countries have nuclear capabilities since 1998. Three Indo-Pak wars have already been fought in 1948, 1965, and 1971, as well as the Kargil conflict of 1999. As a child, I experienced the two wars of 1965 and 1971 and will write about those terrifying experiences later.

On Sabbatical for a Few Days...

Tis that time of the year when I am sure most mothers feel the strongest maternal urge to cling to their offspring. The moment when the kids head back to their schools after a long break.

I am taking a Sabbatical from blogging for a few days as I am frightfully busy and quite gloomy because my nineteen year-old son leaves for college in a few days... I will be back soon, ready to drown my sadness in writing after he leaves. Despite the many mother-son moments which one recalls nostaligically and humorously only when the kid is back in school, the house certainly becomes desolate in his absence after having been home for three and a half months. Relationships with these half men and women who presume to have all life's answers are both taxing and yet enlightening as to how despite their outward persona as growing adults, they will always remain our babies regardless- throughout their lives. Letting go is tough and yet that is what we must do...

It is almost hilarious how my son's faithful basset hound switches loyalty immediately and astutely because he realizes the man whom he considers the leader of the pack is gone and now he is dependent on this cranky and no-nonsense lady to feed and walk him. Who says canines are incapable of manipulative behaviour! Less cynically, somehow animals know when they are really needed because the welcome nuzzling of a cold wet nose demanding attention begins soon thereafter as if to tell me that he is there instead- just like Polo is doing right now as I type...


Polo decides to become my best friend when Baku is at college - he has no choice!

Polo, our basset, sitting in the study next to my chair.

Yes -summer for me is essentially over!

Be back later!

Viva la India! Jai Hind or "Victory to India!" Part I

It is a testimony to human nature that even though I have been a proud US citizen for almost two decades, I am still attached to and proud of my home country, India, which has made amazing strides all around even though it is a relatively new nation in terms of its political sovereignity. Undoubtedly, my heart still swells with tremendous pride at India's achievements and rich history.

Yesterday, August 15, was India's 62nd Independence Day. It is, of course, India's national Holiday celebrated with justifiable patriotic pride. The hallmark of this event is an inspiring nationwide address by the Prime Minister of India along with the unfurling of the tri-colored Indian flag to a 21-gun salute at the historic Red Fort in Delhi. (Red Fort used to be seat of the power of the Mughul Emperor Shah Jahan who also built the Taj Mahal.)

Due to recent bomb attacks in India, Prime Minister ManMohan Singh gave a speech amidst very tight security and addressed key issues like inflation, terrorism, India's relationship with Pakistan, the civilian nuclear deal with the US and India first mission to the moon among other things. India plans to send an Indian spacecraft, Chandrayan, to the moon in 2008, which will be an important milestone in the development of its space programme.










(All pictures above depicting India's Independence Day Celebrations are courtesy of mangalorean.com)

For historical perspective, at the stroke of midnight, on 15 August 1947, India became an independent nation free from the British rule after a hundred year freedom struggle. This was preceded by the legendry speech by the first Prime Minister of India, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, father of Indira Gandhi, India's Iron Lady who was India's Prime Minister for four terms. Titled "Tryst with destiny", Indians consider this speech the epitome of oratory because of the exceptional narrative which captured the deep emotions regarding India's determined non-violent struggle for independence, the nationalistic fervour, the dreams and hopes for the new nation...

An excerpt is given below to provide flavor:

Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. 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, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance..... We end today a period of ill fortune, and India discovers herself again.

Pakistan's independence day is August 14, 1947 and is also a national holiday. Within two days in 1947, the British had created the two sovereign states of India and Pakistan. This was also the genesis of a bitter and unrelenting struggle between the two countries over the state of Kashmir. The partition of the country was accompanied by some of the bloodiest clashes ever seen, stories of which we still hear with horror today. I will address this aspect with respect to my parents who barely escaped with their lives...

As a former High School teacher with degrees and experience in teaching India's history, I am sorely tempted to provide a full tutorial on the same here, but I will refrain as history taught as an academic subject tends to lose its appeal for most, very fast. Besides there are infinite number of books and literature on the subject. I will instead provide my reflections (in parts) on free India based upon my family and my own experiences against the backdrop above.

(To be continued)

Wow - Very Cool!

I won an award! This is really cool as it just came at a time when I was beginning to wonder if my writing was a bit way off mainstream since my theme is the perspective of an Asian Indian woman in the US...

While one blogs for a host of personal reasons, it is nice to know that one's blog is being read otherwise it starts to feel like one is writing a personal journal. So thank you CareySue-that was really nice of you to nominate me for this fun award. I have started reading CareySue's blog regularly as she is so positive, a very cool mom whose family adventures I have been enjoying for a while.

The other five blogs I think are really interesting are:

Jennieworld Today

Simple Etiquette

Singletude

CyclePig

Joanne's blog


Ok here are the instructions:
Choose 5 other bloggers that you feel are “Kick Ass Bloggers”* Let them know that they have received an award* Link back to both the person who awarded you and also www.mammadawg.com* Visit the Kick Ass Blogger Club HQ , to get codes click here and it will take you to KABC HQ, sign Mr. Linky then pass it on!

Coming to America- Start of a Lifelong Journey...

Currently, an old friend of mine from New Delhi is visiting US for a few months on a teacher exchange program. Her spontaneous, yet uncannily familiar reactions to an almost diametrically different cultural environment made me chuckle while bringing back memories of my own initial impressions when I landed here on a cold winter day in February 87…

Looking back it seems almost surreal as to how, despite all the research and talks with folks visiting from the US, I was quite unprepared for the different world that was my new home. I wrote many letters home to my mother and my friends which expressed wonder, humor, plain perplexity and true appreciation...In other words, the exchanges ran the entire gamut of emotions with respect to the India-US lifestyle differences..(Doing the tourist thing in downtown DC in the first few months with our dog, a jet black poodle mutt, Corky, who became my cherished companion in the days when I was essentially a stay-at-home bride newly arrived from Delhi)

The following is a humorous, somewhat tongue-in-cheek prototype of the conversations I had with my worried mother back home to allay her fears and to reassure her that her somewhat sheltered daughter was in fine fettle and well on her way to being acclimatized, not just on the weather front but on all levels… So read on...

Dear Mama,

This is a very interesting society completely contrary to ours where we leave strangers alone much less exchange pleasantries with them. Here in US, strangers on the street will greet you with a bright, “Hello, How are you?” and not mean a word of it because while you are formulating an answer, they have already moved on. So apparently, this is only a rhetorical question/statement to show politeness by acknowledging your existence on this planet. Needless to say, it is all quite unsettling. And mom, I know that back home, cops could be called if a strange man greeted a young woman or asked how she was doing, but here it is a sign of good etiquette and breeding. Formal introductions are not a necessity. So, there is no cause for alarm. It is all good. Now I too am getting comfortable and proactively greet strangers on the street, sometimes a tad exuberantly and sometimes cluelessly in areas where I should really keep walking, but not to worry a dirty look or angry glare is a good indicator that I too need to keep moving –and very fast!

Also mom, you taught us that it is modest to look down and not directly in someone’s face. Well, here you will be considered shady or shifty-eyed or something similar, if you don’t look someone straight in the eye while you are talking to them except I believe it is a fine line between not staring and just looking directly at the person. It is all an art that I am practicing on our dog, Corky.

And mama, you would love this country because folks here just do not ask personal questions like the ones our pesky neighbors ask back home. Remember how that nosy lady next door used to keep asking you so blatantly as to how much my brother was earning in his new job or why your marriageable age daughter was not settling fast enough in holy matrimony. Here mercifully, even a hint of such a personal questions would earn you a well-deserved MYOB, which simply means - Mind Your Own Business. I am telling you, these are good acronyms to add to your daily repertoire and I am not being facetious. Privacy is really cherished here as it should be.

On another social note, mama, this is an egalitarian society in the truest sense where informality reaches new heights-quite jarring initially due to our formal upbringing. It does not matter if you are only 10 years old and the addressee is 40 or 50 or even 80 years old, generally, almost everyone here is on first name basis-unless they are really from the old school, but that is truly rare. I shudder to imagine the dire consequences, if back home, I dared to drop the reverent "Uncle" and greeted our septuagenarian uncle Ram by his first name, you would go apoplectic, not to mention the outrage of the injured party! Here one's increasing years are not necessarily considered a hallmark of wisdom and experience and thereby worthy of overt respect. Everyone is a plain Tom, Dick, Harry, Mary and Jane. You get the drift... At my part-time job, other than the gentleman himself in his late 70s, who am convinced, secretly loves my addressing him as "Mr. Rooney", I think I may be getting on the nerves of my young co-workers who just call him by his first name, "Tom" and consider my respectful attitude borderline obsequiousness. And you know what mother, there maybe some merit in this American thinking, especially when we are the point of grasping at our fast fading youth. Seriously now, despite all the pep talk about aging gracefully, being called "Aunty" albeit respectfully, just cannot be flattering!!!! Manners certainly can be overrated at times. On the other hand, it was so convenient to just say "Aunty" and "Uncle" to the innumerable relatives whose names one could not recall at the huge once-a-year drama-ridden family affairs...

But, mama I am still recovering from the tea shock! When you ask for tea in US, you don’t get our kind of regular boiling hot tea, brewed in a tea kettle with sugar and milk on the side, rather what you get is a tea bag in warm water with a slice of lemon on the side and no milk! Yes you heard it right! Tepid water, lemon and no milk and sugar –yikes!!! I have learned my lesson and never waste money on tea in a restaurant, rather I have now converted my American-born friends to my own cuppa of tea. But God forbid, should anyone wanting a plain cup of black coffee be stuck behind me when I am painstakingly making my afternoon cup of tea at work, step-by-step at one of these new-fangled machines in the employee lounge. The loud groans say it all...

Remember how you used to constantly remark that our Delhi neighborhood was very noisy because there were constant streams of people outside our home at all hours. Well we don’t have any such problems here because one hardly sees people in this country unless one is in business or shopping areas. Getting used to the under-populated look does take a while. Silence certainly can be deafening! During the day when I am alone in our suburban home, there is not a soul in sight in the neighborhood and one barely sees any people on the streets other than one or two here and there. So,of course, sound pollution is not an issue and one can take many naps during the day… Needless to say, I am well-rested. A bit too much. (Many a solitary morning, I would sit outside my home with Corky and not see a soul in our neighborhood during the day...Not seeing people took some serious getting used to.)

Riding in the Metro is a real pleasure as the people are very polite to their fellow-passengers though I am ashamed to say, old habits die hard, and the first couple of times, I forgot that the DC Metro was not like the overcrowded Delhi's public bus where if you don't hustle and jostle to both get on and off the bus by shoving your way in sheer panic to the bus exit five stops in advance, you will never get off; the indifferent driver uncaring of his passengers packed like sardines barely stops in either situation. As you well know, personal dignity and daintiness have no place in India's public transportation. Similarly I too pushed my way to the front on the platform to board the Metro, till I got many well-deserved icy glares from the other patient commuters. Suitably chastened, I am a model citizen now-the nuns in my Catholic school back home would have been rightfully proud!

And mama, I have finally relearned how to drive here because in US, they don’t drive on the left side of the road like UK and India, but rather on the “wrong side.” Learning to drive has been nerve-wracking because I have had to condition my mind to remember that if I get in the left lane in US, then I am in deep trouble as that is indeed the fast lane where it almost suicidal to drive within the legal speed limit. But not to worry except for one scary episode when in my bemused state, I went headlong into the incoming traffic lane, now I am very skilled. Your prayers are working as I am alive to write this. In fact, we just celebrated my ability to drive on the beltway. I am however still mastering the almost life-threatening skill of changing lanes at 65 miles and more per hour, without swivelling my head 180 degrees to watch out for the speeding vehicles in that damn blind spot. But not to worry, I will be able to chauffeur you around when you visit if you will be brave enough to ride with me… (Yes only my dog was safe in the car with me in the initial months when I relearned how to drive US style.)

A couple of thing that bother me here mama is that this is a rather litigious society as everyone is worried about being sued by someone. This fear does somewhat stifle one’s creativity and general being to some extent. People will even sue a food restaurant if they spill hot coffee on themselves and here you would yell at us to take responsibility. Is this a great country or what!!!

Secondly, I had an amazing experience the other day when I went to a grocery store with an Indian friend. There her five year old son threw many tantrums and was just unbelievably out of control screaming and grabbing things in the aisles while this young mother, instead of taking him firmly out of the store, just kept placating rather pleading with him to behave. When I asked her about it later, I kid you not, she said that her firmness could be misconstrued by a spectator as child abuse and and she was petrified of losing her child… Wow!!! Imagine being held hostage by a screaming kindergartner!!! It makes me wonder if this could be one of the reasons, children here sometimes can be so brazenly fearless? Clearly the sort of discipline we were subjected to might be considered somewhat old-fashioned in this new world of fear on so many levels… I am still thinking this one through… (Finally settled, I would still wear my Sari every now and then to stay in touch with my cultural traditions and for the most part after two decades, I have been able to.)

But this is home now mama and I truly love it here as I have blended the two worlds to create an interesting culture of my own that has the best of both. And yes, I have insisted that folks learn to say my name, Raksha, correctly, though between you and me, I respond to anything that remotely sounds like it-for instance-Rasha, Rashka and even Russia-I do give credit for effort you know-but I have drawn the line at "Roxanne". In other words, I have adapted into the American mainstream while holding on dearly to my own identity…