75 Years Later, the Fading Ghosts of India’s Bloody Partition
By Mujib Mashal, Hari Kumar and Zia ur-Rehman, Aug. 14, 2022, NY Times

The chaos, confusion and religious violence that accompanied the cleaving of Pakistan from India 75 years ago this week resulted in the deaths of up to two million people and unleashed one of history’s largest displacements, with Hindus and Muslims
from once-mixed communities rushing in opposite directions to new homelands created along religious lines.

In the decades since, the divisions have become more rigid than ever, the frontiers fenced and heavily guarded, after repeated wars, cross-border terrorist attacks and the backlash of swelling nationalism. To this day, despite a vast shared heritage, the
two countries remain estranged, their guns fixed on each other and diplomatic ties all but nonexistent.

In both, majoritarian populism is ascendant. India is gripped by rising Hindu nationalism and anti-Muslim sentiment, with the ruling party increasingly chipping away at the country’s constitutionally mandated secularism. Pakistan is swept by an Islamic
fundamentalism that sees acts of dissent as blasphemy worthy of violent punishment. The population of Kashmir, the Himalayan region disputed between the two countries, remains hostage to militarism and militancy from each side.

The markers of division are ubiquitous. In a small room at the cremation grounds of a Pakistani temple, the ashes of hundreds of Hindu dead have remained for years, as relatives wait for visas to scatter them in the holy river Ganges in India. Fishermen
from both countries often meet trouble as they trespass invisible maritime demarcations. A couple of years ago, the Indian authorities even arrested a border-traversing pigeon on suspicion of spying.

With the passing decades, the nationalist fervor and mutual suspicion have largely replaced the memories of bloodshed and displacement.

Survivors of partition, now in their twilight, have often been reluctant to share their stories with their children, the author Aanchal Malhotra writes in her book, “In the Language of Remembering.” Many, including Ms. Malhotra’s own grandmother,
Bhag Malhotra, have carried their trauma quietly, alone.

“We never wanted to burden them with our memories,” the grandmother tells Ms. Malhotra in her book. “We wanted the sadness to end with us.”

Some survivors have managed to return for a pilgrimage to a lost home. Others, like the Duggals, have searched for answers.

Piara Lal Duggal, who along with his sister was the only known survivor of the massacre in the paddy fields, was able to find Muhammad Anwar, the classmate who had helped shelter them from the anti-Hindu mobs. For decades, the two wrote to each other.

In one letter, Mr. Anwar wrote that he had started a fish farm near Lahore, and that the fish were growing to “2kg each.” He told Mr. Duggal that he went to a shrine every Thursday to light a candle and pray “to reconnect me to my friend.”

In a letter that the Anwar family still keeps, Mr. Duggal responded: “My piece-of-heart of a friend, my brother Muhammad Anwar,” adding, “The old thoughts of you and your family have been refreshed in my heart. Sometimes, I can’t even sleep at
night.”

Among those who have made cross-border visits is Jagtar Kaur, a Sikh in her late 80s who lives on the Indian side of the Punjab region. During partition, her father and grandfather were hacked to death by Muslim mobs.

As Ms. Kaur prepared for her visit in 2014, the irony wasn’t lost on her: She needed a visa and a passport to visit her own former home just a few miles across the border. The Pakistani side is so close that to check the weather, her family looks at
the forecast for the Pakistani city of Lahore rather than the nearest Indian city, Amritsar.

“Our house had fallen, but I saw the metal columns of our roof,” she recalled from her visit.

At the time, the two governments were running trains and buses across the border. But escalating tensions in recent years have ended the services.

“There is nothing here now,” said Ramesh Chand, 59, who is retiring soon as a cleaner at the Attari railway station.

The Attari-Wagah border is largely sealed, with just a handful of visa holders crossing each day on foot. But every evening, the border gate opens for a pomp-filled flag-lowering ceremony, as each side turns into a little arena packed with spectators.

“Hot popcorn, hot popcorn!” one of the many vendors shouted as families filed in to take their seats one recent evening.

Bollywood songs blared from loudspeakers on the Indian side, as people waved flags and danced. During the military marches, tall officers from both sides competed to see who could kick higher, who had a more impressive mustache to twist, and who could
scream with the most intimidation.

As the sun set, the crowds went quiet during the lowering of the two flags. “Long live India” roared those on one side of the fence, while those on the other shouted “Long live Pakistan.”

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/14/world/asia/british-india-partition-hindu-muslim.html

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