So much had been spoken and done but the task was formidable. How can it be done? Impossible.
The world was in its own pre-telephone in every house age, in it is let us write a letter era, a radio in the village time of day. For anyone alive now, it is difficult to imagine. How did they communicate and organise such a massive migration of people?
A couple of years ago I nearly missed my maths exam. My family’s story is for another time, but the fact that the Headmaster sent a messenger to come and get me from my home was the essence of how people cared back then. The poor boy was on a bicycle and whenever I hopped on he would lose his balance and we would both fall off! Eventually, I made it to school in time for the exam and I borrowed a compass from here, a pencil from there and finished in time. The Headmaster was sure I would give the school a name and pass with flying colours. And I did. One mark less than the future Nobel Prize winner, Mr. Abdus Salam.
In my carefree days I was playing hockey with friends when an English man rode up on a horse with his minions. Kicking up dirt they told us it was King George’s birthday and gave out ‘ludoo’, a locally made sweet. Were we happy? Not in the least, we were furious that this man thought we even cared about someone miles and miles away, and he dared spoil our hockey match. We threw away the ludoo and vowed never to have anything to do with the white people. Little did I know that I had spoken too soon.
I remember I was in Anarkali when the Matric result came out. I had heard about ‘stenography’, there were rows of people in the bazaar who would teach you and it was a good way to get an office job. I was not made for manual work, a joke which would last a lifetime. I would always tell my wife to thank God I worked in an office, if I was a tailor, I would make one suit a month!
My job in the Indian Civil Service in Delhi was my first job after my Matriculation. The family was all over the place but one of the perks that I had was being able to take a train to this new country, ‘Pakistan’. Pakistan, the land of the pure, the land made for Muslims by the Muslims. The seeds for our ego were sown early. Anyway, I boarded the train with my handful of belongings. To say I was nervous does not even start to describe what was going through my mind. Literally and figuratively, there are still no words to describe the hot and sticky weather, the shouts and screams, the pushes and shoves. The tears I have while I write this are as raw as the day they first came. Although it was a government assigned train, people had clamoured onto the top of the train trying to escape the terrors that were being unleashed. The saying is that time stops for no one, but neither does evil. Neighbours living in peace for generations suddenly turned against each other with blood in their eyes. Swords were out on both sides, no one was anyone’s friend anymore. One could not even trust a glass of water as it was the easiest way to poison and kill. The hatred had been embedded in our souls and now there waws no way out but to move to the promised land.
There was evil on the platforms, men offering to put bundles on the women’s head and then manhandling them, evil had no rest that day.
The train rolled into Lahore. Sombre and sickening. There was no one on the top of the train. The swords were no match for the bullets shot at the rooftop passengers. They had dropped like flies. We drew into the station to the sound of wails, ‘Pakistan ka kabristan’, the graveyard of Pakistan. Women beating their chests at the loss of their men and children. I had no idea of where to go, I didn’t know anyone around me, it was every man for himself.
But then sometimes out of all the screams and horror there comes a ray of hope. As I said, school was a place that cared, a man approached me and called out my name, took me aside and asked how I was. Obviously, I must have looked blank because he had to remind me who he was. My fourth-grade teacher. The relief of seeing someone who knows who you are is like a warm blanket you did not know you needed.