Sunil R P Sethi
Pritam Singh had four brothers but he can exchange all of them for his friend Ali, his soul mate. They were one soul divided in two bodies. As kids they used to race with each other for reaching Gurudwara and Masjid in their village and returning back to playground after their Ardas and Namaz. Life was pure bliss. No worries . Their coming of age and marriages changed nothing. They shared their kids . Pritam loved Nazia more than his son Aulakh and same was reciprocated by Ali .
It was start of rainy season when they heard that India is getting partitioned and that Hindus and Muslims have to live separate in two different countries. They laughed and shrugged their soldiers at the foolish thoughts. How can they separate? how can their families separate? Won’t they fell dead without each other. What would be life without. It might be happening somewhere else but can’t happen in Kotli Mian Fateh, where their ancestors lived and died, where the earth still smells of their youth .
Then news started pouring in. Of frenzy on both sides. Of killings and rapes and abduction and robberies and loot and burnings. Ali shifted to Haveli of Pritam to jointly face problems which may come. They were one big family. Happy family. Nothing happened for three months and in the meantime India was divided in two countries over blood and gory. They thought they are past bad as their Maharaja had saved state from trouble though reports of violence from few places did continue coming.
Then it struck the village. People whom nobody had seen earlier started coming. Strange clothes, strange dictum and stranger ways. Full of hatred and eager to incite and kill. They were dreaded Tribals from afar place who came armed to take over Kotli Mian Fateh and the whole state to make it part of Pakistan. Each night they used to fire guns in air to scare away Hindu and sikh population. And most did run . But how could Pritam leave . Not without Ali and his family particularly his Gudia Nazia. He stayed back but allowed his brothers and their families to move to Nowshera town. He sent his wife too with promise to call her back when things settle down. Aulakh didn’t go as he can’t leave lap of his Chacha and Ali was in all tears begging for not removing Aulakh from him.
It was probably first week of September and little chill had started that killings of people of one religion who didn’t leave as they had nowhere to go started in the village. What followed was horrific as hell. There were dead bodies on the roads. Cries of women being forcibly abducted and raped. Many girls jumped into well to save honour and some were killed by their own mothers by poisoning before killing themselves. Life taken by one who gave it. People were searched and pulled out of their houses and hideouts to meet death for defiance. For not running away.
Pritam was afraid more for Aulakh than himself. They had one big room where Baithak used to be held. Meeting room. Ali put beddings on floor and hid Pritam in that with ladies of the house around so that nobody could find. It continued for two days but a servant informed the Tribal leader Hamid who pulled Pritam from behind ladies and after abusing him stabbed him in abdomen and threw him on the floor telling him to die amongst ladies. Ali made all efforts and even threw himself on Pritam but was kicked aside.
After Hamid and his companions left Ali and his wife applied mud and water on the wound to stop bleeding and whole night they were crying and weeping. Pritam survived and saw Aulakh with relief whose hairs had been cut by Ali. Ali was standing with hairs of Aulakh in his hands and with folded hands and unspoken apology on lips. Pritam understood. Next night again Hamid came and finding Pritam alive was filled with rage and anger and again stabbed and wished death to infidel . Again Ali and his wife put their earthly ointment to the wound. It seemed that mother earth didn’t want Pritam to die
Third day Pritam Singh was lying on bed with wounds on both sides of abdomen waiting for his death as Hamid and his associates were not going to leave him third time . Ali came in evening and shifted him to a room on first floor with wooden bed and also brought a rotting dead body from Street and burnt it to ashes in the Varandah . When dawn fell Pritam could hear voice of Hamid arguing with Ali who was telling him that Sardar had died and had been cremated but Hamid was not accepting and was asking his companions to search for Sardar. His death was near. Nothing could have saved him. He saw from sides of his closed eyes someone opening door. He closed his eyes preparing for death. Time passed like eternity. Nothing happened. He could feel someone lying near him but neither he could open eyes nor touch to find. He was waiting sword to strike his neck .
Door was flung open and someone shoutedy “who is this girl lying without clothes”. Rehana wife of Ali said her daughter Nazia and her husband were staying in room and asked Nazia to pull up Razai. He felt Razai being pulled up and then sounds of feet moving away. He felt relieved but very next moment he realised what had happened. Nazia was lying with him without clothes to save him. His daughter. He was trembling with thought of humiliation and insult. He can’t give this price for living. He can’t take from Ali tbis sacrifice for friendship.
His back was towards Nazia and tears were flooding the bed when Nazia put her hand on his shoulder and said Papa ji. He died of shame.
Hamid and his companions left village after ensuring religious cleansing for another village to spread terror. After a week Pritam was in position to move, though with wounds badly filled with puss and infection and was now leaving his village and his friend. That was fate and destiny. Ali arranged a pony for them. He bid goodbye to all but couldn’t see eye to eye with Nazia.
They settled finally where destiny wanted them. There was a line of border though there was no border between them. Ali had rented fields of Pritam. He never forgot to send money to Pritam of produce of fields and Nazia never forgot to send Rakhi to Aulakh. What Partition and Which Partition. Of Land not Faith.
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