Through the hustle and bustle of this new country, I was posted to the then capital, Karachi.  I still had no news of my siblings’ whereabouts.  Reminiscent of the election of a new hope a few years ago from now, many Muslims belonging to this area wrote letters asking the government what they could do for Pakistan, when should they come, what should they bring.  These now expats were bursting with enthusiasm, they wanted to help, wanted to bring their talents and know-how to this new country.  I know because these letters came to our office and were gracefully discarded.  The evil, the ‘every man for himself’ had quickly turned into the corruption which we see today.

My salary was two thousand rupees, enough to rent a room and hire a servant to cook and clean for me.  But it was still chaos and mayhem in much of the country.  A year after partition I indulged in my first luxury.  I bought myself a vest.  I had realised I had not been able to afford one since India.  My life was not luxurious but I was always particular about my clothes, so at the first chance I had, a vest was at the top of my shopping list.

Kashmir has always been that button on the shirt the tailor forgot to stitch on, but you like the shirt so much that you wear it anyway and keep telling yourself, I’ll  fix it on myself later, but that ‘later’ is now 75 years on. The ships brought tons of aid to Karachi for distribution to the winter.  Millions of refugees has crossed over nothing but the clothes on their backs.  It was vital the aid was distributed to save lives.  Fur-lined parka jackets were sent and would provide relief to many refuges during the cold especially in Kashmir as it was suffering due to the political neglect. I know because I saw.  I saw the officers wearing the thick coats, I saw the fur-lined, life saving overcoats going to official’s houses, I saw them not going to the lives they needed to save.

I saw the canned food going to the army.  I saw the can opened to reveal kneaded dough in it and not the food needed by our men in arms.  I saw the people getting what they wanted how they wanted.  

It was not the best of times, it was not the worst of times.  It was the time for action but the partition, the mayhem, had brought out the sin of temptation in more than many around.  Despite my anti-fairy tale childhood, I needed to know where my siblings were.  I dug out a letter my father had received in India from a brother of mine.  I took the train and travelled to Lahore and waited outside the factory.  The plan was that when the shift changed,  workers would go in and out and maybe I could catch my brother.  I stood outside waiting and waiting for the shift bell to ring.  Men streamed out of the factory and I strained to see who was it here who I was related to, who was it that looked like me.  it had taken four years of living like a stranger to myself, every day I would look in the mirror and yearn, yes yearn for someone to recognise me.  I needed to be known, I needed to join my pieces together. How many more were there who had lost their families and had to start again from scratch.  People who had left the land of their fore-fathers to start in Pakistan without a dime to their name.  

 I wonder if you have ever prayed, not on a prayer mat but simply where you are. Just stood where you are and spoken to God, asked Him, pled with Him to just stop please.  You just cannot take it anymore.  And then you look into the crowd and see your brother looking right at you.

Finally, Akram bhai.  A family member, I felt like I belonged to someone, I was not a refugee anymore, I was a citizen with roots again.  Catching up, I found out that my sister had become a widow, her husband had drunk water from one of the poisoned wells and she was left with two children to bring up.  My father had his land reallotted to Rahim Yar Khan but my brothers has settled in other small towns of Punjab.  

Pakistanis were picking up the pieces of the partition resiliently, they knew they had to make this work, there was no turning back now.

Read the other part: Part I