Chaos of the unseen frontier

(With quotes from Fathima Ashgar’s “If they come
for us”)

Remember those thick chunky social science textbooks we used to study? The history textbooks taught us about Indian history, sacrifices, massacres, the non-violence movements. However, there was a less taught topic, an anticlimax to Nehru’s dream of Unified India, the Partition.  

I checked with my friends to see if I alone was oblivious to the monstrosity of this mass migration. And truth be told, they too had only a little knowledge about this.  

I realized the grotesqueness of this massacre especially when I read these lines from Fatima
 Ashgar’s poem, “If they come for us” 

1947: The cannons sound during  

Ramzan and everyone hold their breath 

To find who survived. Laylat Al Qadar 

Births two nations. 

No one knows the boundaries 

Bodies spoon like commas, waiting, linking, waiting.” 

India’s partition was an inevitable climax to the 200-year-old British colonialism. Seeds of doubt were planted in the minds of Indian Muslims who were otherwise living harmoniously in a country with predominantly Hindus. Fear of less representation or being second-class citizens created a growing animosity between Hindus and Muslims. They fought unaware of the political agendas behind it. And the result was the imminent Partition. 

As soon as Partition was announced chaos broke along the boundaries. People on the wrong side of the border fled for their lives, leaving behind what they called their home. Over one million were killed and millions displaced. 

Women faced the brunt of Partition. Being a patriarchal society, it considered women as carriers of family dignity. Angry mobs resorted to acts of violence against women to express their hatred to the community. They raped women, abducted them, killed them, and even forced them to marry or stay with their abductors. For every Hindu or Sikh woman killed in Pakistan, a Muslim woman was killed in India. 

These lines from Fatima Ashgar’s poem moved me to tears. 

“1947: a woman washes the body 

Of a stranger lying on the street 

Every dead woman blurs into the other 

Maybe this could be my sister she says, 

As she performs the ghusl, as her own 

Sister never returns home.” 

  

It has been 70 years since this mass migration and three major wars have happened between the nations.  It is history, time heals everything you might say. But unfortunately, religion still runs in our blood. Women still face the brunt of ‘family honor’. Resentment and distrust between the nation remains the same. Globalization and westernization may have changed our attire and attitude, but seeds of the massacre lay dormant awaiting to be awoken.  

Living abroad, I realized it didn’t matter if we were Indians, Pakistanis, or Bangladeshis. Our cultures may be different but are intertwined. We shape the new destiny of our country. Let’s rise above these imaginary borders and show that we are much better than our forefathers in running the country. We are unbiased. 

On a lighter note, next time we see an India Pakistan match let’s just leave it like a normal game and not take it too seriously, Shan’t we?