“While the image of the “corpse train” arriving full of the dead and mutilated remains perhaps the most enduring icon of Partition, most passenger services had been halted after the initial attacks. The worst massacres only came to pass now. Over the weekend of September 20-21, four of the Pakistan Specials rolled across the border and into Lahore one after the other, their floors slick with blood. Some had been attacked multiple times. One train’s escort had fended off a jatha in 45 minutes of ferocious hand-to-hand fighting. Another had lost several hundred passengers, including 62 children under the age of eight. On September 22, after a refugee train coming the other way arrived in Amritsar full of non-Muslim dead and wounded, the Sikh fighters went berserk. A mob estimated at 10,000 people swarmed a Pakistan-bound train full of Muslim refugees, firing automatic rifles, tossing bombs, and slashing away with swords. Only 200 horribly wounded passengers survived; at least 1,500 people were killed, including the British commander of the train’s escort. Bourke-White arrived at the scene soon afterward. All along the platform, she later wrote, blue-turbaned Sikhs sat cross-legged, their curved kirpans across their knees, patiently waiting for the next arriving Special.”

• An excerpt from Nisid Hajari’s Midnight's Furies: The Deadly Legacy of India's Partition

 We, Thara and Rishi and I, were at the Partition Museum, which is housed at the Amritsar Townhall building.  The red colored sandstone building was an old British Commissionerate and jail.  It was just a stone throwaway from Jalian Wala Bagh, the place of once of the worst criminal act by an army officer in recorded history. If  one is sensitive enough, one could still hear the cries and commotion from the Jalian Wala Bagh, as Col. Reginald Dyer, vulture army, opened fired at an innocent congregation of freedom fighters.  

 The roads between the Golden Temple, Jalian Wala Bagh and Town is a pedestrian only cobbled walkway.  And what catches the eye is the standard shop signages, which melts into the stone-colored building and huge statues of some remarkable Indians. If one can tolerate or ignore the number of touts, who wants to take you to the Wagah border ceremony, it is a quite an enjoyable walk.   

 The partition museum seems to be a new addition, especially compared Golden Temple, and Jalian Wala Bagh, which were witness so many generation’s smiles and tears, sukoon and blood, pride and prejudice… Also it portrays the dark, hateful, animal side of humans along with Jalian Wala Bagh compared to the golden side of being human of Golden Temple.

The museum is the brain child of Mallika Ahluwalia, a Harvard graduate, whose grandparents, both paternal and maternal, were  tragic victims of barbaric violence from the partition.

 We had plan to make a quick round of the place and head to our lunch. Our driver Guri Saheb, a young, very affable and devout Sardar reminded us he can’t park of long Infront of the Brothers Dhaba. Locals and tourists throng that Dhaba for that utterly Butterly kulcha and piping hot Channa.

 We were just skimming through the halls, especially about the politics of those times, so that we ticked our tourist to do checklist, till we reached, center of  Hall of Migration and Refuge.   There was a small well, depicting the suicides by many women who jumped into and killed them to save their honour during those times.  There was a beautiful phulkari dupatta draped across the walls near that well.  The note said it was donated by one Mr. Randhawa, whose aunt was asked by her kith and kin to jump into the well and save her honour from being raped and killed.  She chose not to and was rescued by a Muslim man and it was one of the stories of kindness and humaneness shown by many across all communities in midst of hatred, anger and bloodshed.

 And just next to that was the booth which displayed the portraits by Sardari Lal Parashar. How does one draw grief, loss, sadness, suffering!!!  Parashar was an acclaimed   painter, etcher, sculptor and writer. and writer on the other side of the divide before the lines were drawn on a piece of map.

Source: S.L. Parashar 1904–1990, Time, Space, Light, Consciousness

After crossing over the blood-soaked border, his first job was as Commandant in a refugee camp in Baldev Nagar, Ambala. The overwhelming and painful atmosphere of sorrow, fear and anguish of the inmates of that refugee camp, got into his sketches.  And those sketches became one telling story of the horrors of partition.

 Even after all these years, pain and suffering was still a fresh in those sketches.  I had to go back to the booth downstairs, booth of Sir Cyril Radcliffe, the man who was mainly responsible for one of the most man created calamity and cold-blooded mayhem in the world.  Even the most conservative figures shows the depth humans descended. A BBC article on partition says  “ About 12 million people became refugees. Between half a million and a million people were killed in religious violence. Tens of thousands of women were abducted.”

The poem by W H Auden in the booth just says part of the story about the main villain.  

Let me quote from an interview  of Radcliff  by veteran journalist Kuldeep Nayyar in 1976.  

“To make an 'impartial' decision, the British chose English Barrister Sir Cyril Radcliffe to draw the boundary that would demarcate the Punjab and Bengal provinces. Radcliffe had never visited British India or written about it ever in his professional life as a lawyer.

He virtually had no knowledge of the subcontinent, which was why he was chosen as somebody who'd make an 'unbiased' decision. He was given two Muslim and Hindu Judges  each to help in the task.”

​ So that's how the story of Radcliffe lines goes. An English barrister, who never set foot in India before July 8, 1947, decided which families would be part of India and which houses would go to East and West Pakistan.

 “According to records, Radcliffe barely knew where Punjab and Bengal were, yet he accepted the job as a man with a deep sense of duty.   In that interview,  he reveals that he 'had almost given Lahore to India but was then told how Pakistan would be left without any major city' as the decision to give Calcutta to India was already taken.

In one corner in that book tells the story of the necklace from Mohenjo-Daro.  “When the necklace was separated into two sections, Pakistan received a portion of six light-green jade beads and three agate-jasper pendants. Currently, this half of the necklace is on exhibit at the Mohenjo Daro Museum in Pakistan, while the other half is located in the National Museum in New Delhi, India.

In the same interview with Nayar, he further said ''the time at my disposal was so short that I could not do a better job. However, if I had two to three years, I might have improved on what I did.'' Five weeks - in just five weeks - the fate of millions of people got sealed and this unleashed an epic humanitarian crisis. “

So saddened was Radcliffe to hear about the death of people on either side of the lines that he refused to accept the payment for his work.  Then that is the story of. A Lawyer who worked probono !  I was wondering, why would a person ever undertake such a task with hasty deadlines.

 ​Thirty years after the partition, Sir Cyril died in April 1977 in Britain. It is said that after drawing the 'Radcliffe Line', he left India the very next day and never came to the country again.

“That which passes, isn't time. You and I are transitory, time is eternal. Or rather, it passes and is yet eternal.”
― Gulzar, Raavi Paar and Other Stories

 The last section of the museum was the best part. The section of Hope. The extra ordinary story of ordinary people, who saw the worst of human nature, still chose to be good human beings.  Those men excelled as human beings and transcended the slippery slope of hatred and anger.   Milkha Singh, Hero Motors Munjal, Manmohan Singh, The father of Indian IT industry. F. C. Kohli.   Manmohan Singh taped voice told me that how his grandfather was brutally murdered in cold blood in Peshawar and after crossing over to Amritsar after partition, he studied for intermediate and BA at the Motilal Nehru Library which is next door to the Town hall where the partition museum is there.  He could not afford books and as a refugee, he could study only because his college waived his fees.  The endless list goes on….  The seed of hatred takes root only on petty and weak hearts. The founder of the Parition Museum had written a wonderful book  of 21 inspirational stories.  There could be many more unheralded ones.

After penning a short note on the visitors book, It was time to go to Wagah border show, the beating retreat or Flag lowering ceremony. It so seems in the ancient days, the war used to start at the sunrise and end at the sunset.  Remember the story in Sauptika parva, the Book of sleepers, 10^th Chapter of Mahabharata.  After the 18^th day of the war, 3 Kauravas led by Ashwatthama, enters the Pandava camp in the middle of the night and slaughters the sleeping, Pandavas. At the end, even after the victory only 8 Pandava men were alive and 3 Kauravas.    Ironically our driver told us that Wagah is the Pakistan side of the border.  Indian side is known as Attari. Was wondering why the patriotic Indians promote Pakistan! There was already a huge crowd assembled waiting for the security check, to be let in to the semicircular Coliseum style stadium facing the gate from the Indian side. There is a similar and smaller stadium on the other side.  All of us were made to pass through a metallic detector and thoroughly frisked.  The BSF jawans did not even let a cigar lighter to the venue.  The soundboxes blared the patriotic songs from Hindi Movies of Ajit Kumar to SRK. After some time, a jawan with a wireless mic in hand appeared on the road and started egging the audience for louder support and hooting the other side.  In between, he used to run towards the border gate. Then all the girsl in the crowd were asked to be on the road and suddenly it turned into a disco with patriotic songs blaring. A rope was tied at a distance from the gate so that, people don’t run across the road in their excitement .  Then the show started. Performed by the Border Security Force of India and the Pakistan Rangers, the lowering of flags is a choreographed drill, speed marches, really high kicks. ( I thought their foot hit on their head and foot stampings.  They started at each other , twirling their big moustaches amidst slogan chanting.  While we watched the spectacle from bench seats, there is a VIP gallery  with a huge number of foreigners and other dignitaries.

eanwhile Sun had crossed the Radcliff drawn border to the other side, without a passport, visa and body, without body frisking or not having to move through a metal detector.  Still, it did not hesitate to share its light and glory with us on this side of the border. During the whole time, guards both BSF and Pakistan Rangers stood facing the crowds on their side, with their backs to each other.  Maybe they trust the other side guards more.  It was not long ago, a suicide bomber detonated himself just a few meters away from the border gate on the Pakistan side killing many.  

After the flags on the both sides were lowered in a very synchronized and meticulous way, there was a brisk handshake between the guards and smile on their face before they closed the gates.  Maybe they are known to each other as they stand guard every single day.

 As Sun decides to say goodbye to all of us, we got up.  The BSF Jawan on the mic, did urge everyone to dump the garbage in dustbins. No one paid heed. We all left behind a badly littered stadium and hurried back to the car parking.  On our return trip back, I was thinking about the narrow line painted across the road in between those two gates. How many litres of human blood, would have been used by Radcliff to paint it. A dictator or an army general in power in Pakistan may need that choreographed drama every day to distract their citizens.  But does a strong and vibrant country such as ours should lower ourselves to their level !!!  IS the strength of a human or nation depends on decibel levels or  staring down each other twirling moustaches !!!!

 I am no romantic.  I reckon, the borders are a reality which cannot be wished away. Animals in the wild, too mark their borders.  From the Voyageurs wolf project, they have published the GPS tracked territory of 7 wolf packs way back in 2018. It is a way of nature to ensure , each one of them, whether they are single or pack, gets their resources needed for their survival. Whether it is grass or preys.

 In our minds as well as in the world we live to die and die and kill to live.  When I got to have a door and wall to save myself from my siblings, a fence to keep that neighbor away, and a border even within a country to say my river belongs to me, how can one have an issue with a border between the “nations” .   

 Especially when that border gets written with human blood.  Blood and belonging goes together always.  But the moot point is, when wolfs and wild animals, still stay and live the way since they originated in mother earth, we, humans, take pride in our evolvement and progress.

The sagely phrase Vasudhiava Kumtumbakam do suggest that our ancestors did transcend those animalistic tendencies (The phrase Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam is made up of three Sanskrit words, Vasudhaa (earth/world), iva (like) and kutumbakam (large/extended family). The verse finds mention in Maha Upanishad (VI. 72); and is further referred to in the Hitopadesha and other literary works of India).

 But suddenly in the current era, that sounds so archaic.    Did we regress  to in Neanderthal times !!!