A Tale of Two Cities. Our Migration from Amritsar to Lahore.

During the desperately uncertain days of partition in August 1947, the families and communities living on the wrong side of the divide weren’t sure about their future. In the run up to independence, due to the vitriolic political atmosphere, the animosity between the Sikhs and the Hindus on one side, and the Muslims on the other, had given rise to violent attitudes. The political leadership had perhaps not comprehended the dark forces that their extreme partisan stands were unleashing. The first glimpse of these vicious frictions became visible an year earlier during the Direct Action Day on 16th August 1946, when slaughter, arson, looting and rapes on a large scale had occurred in Calcutta, followed by similar incidents in Noakhali in October. The unpredictable Bengalis became unrestrained to proceed on the path of bloodletting. The epicentre of violence soon shifted to the Punjab where the emotional Punjabis were to indulge in ethnic cleansing, resulting in displacement of over 14 million people, killing of anywhere between two hundred thousand to one million persons and abduction of nearly eighty thousand women. Very few families crossed the hastily created border unscathed. Nearly every one of those persons, including children, has a story to tell. Although it was certain that Amritsar would be part of India and Lahore of Pakistan, yet no one seems to have decided to move across to safer areas while there was peace. Probably no one thought that they will have to migrate. According to the stories that I have heard from my elders, while there was full scale political activity on an almost daily basis along with frequent incidents of violence in Amritsar, there was no planning or forethought about migration to Muslim majority areas. Even if someone had any inclination of coming events, the new country, its administration, the refugee camps and administrative structure were not in place. There was nowhere to move. The greatest migration in the world history was a sudden exodus. Lahore and Amritsar, 50 kilometres apart, are twin cities in many aspects . There is similarity in the shape and extent of the old cities, as defined by their walls, similar number of gates (over a dozen)and circular roads around them. A magnificent worship place, Badshahi Mosque, and a historic fort, Shahi Fort, lie on the edge of Lahore city. Similarly, a splendid Hindu temple, Durgiana Terath, and a notable fort, Gobindgarh Fort (locally known as Bhangian da Qila), lie on the edge of Amritsar. Lahore has the revered Data Darbar whereas Amritsar houses the holiest of Sikh Gurdwaras, the Darbar Sahib. The frequency and beauty of mosques in Lahore are matched every bit by that of Gurdwaras in Amritsar. Each has a historic park;Minto/Iqbal Park in Lahore and Jallianwala Bagh in Amritsar. Both have their own Golbaghsand Hall Bazaars.. For the Aitcheson College in Lahore, there is an Aitcheson Bagh Amritsar. Both have Lahori and Mori Gates in the walled cites. The road from Lahori gate in Amritsar leads, in a straight line, to the Delhi gate in Lahore. The icon of Lahore, Zamzama or Bhangion di Top that has been made immortal by Rudyard Kipling as Kim’s Gun, was brought to Lahore from Bhangian da Qila in Amritsar by Ranjit Singh. Residents of both speak Punjabi and both are literary centres. Both have a rich tradition of producing writers, poets and players. The aerial distance between Data Darbar and Darbar Sahib is 53 kilometres, which is less than the distance between Clifton and DHA City in Karachi, or between Rohini and Greater Noida in Delhi. Melbourne, New York, Shanghai and a host of other cities are wider than this distance. Half the population in Lahore, as in Amritsar, was Muslim before independence. Many people used to commute between the cities on railways on daily basis, There was a very strong and affluent Sikh presence in both cities. Each communitywas certain that both cities would be part of the country of their choice. In reality, the emotional multitude had desires beyond their reach because greater forces had already drawn a line roughly bisecting the road between the two cities. The twin cities fell in rival camps. The prime markets in the two cities, Hall Bazaar in Amritsar and Shah Alam Market in Lahore, were reduced to ashes due arson . Tens of thousands of innocent men, women and children were to lose their lives trying to cross over the line in the opposite direction. They hoped for a utopia on the other side, beyond the hastily drawn borders, little knowing that they will have to overcome the challenges of settlement and integration in the new country. The patriotic spirit of the early days soon whittled away under the harsh realities of everyday life. My family originated from Kashmir and had been resident of Amritsar since around 1820, when Ranjit Singh snatched the state from Abdali Afghans. My father’s maternal side, mostly ‘qaligars’ (Brass and tine utensil polishers), were residents of Hathi Gate area in the city, and paternal side, mostly ‘rafoogars’ (Carpet menders), were centred in Lohgarh and Chitta Katra (Inside Lahori Gate) areas. Both these vocations are obsolete now. My grandfather, Ameer Bakhsh, as hundreds of other people at that time, fell victim to tuberculosis in 1925, when my father, Mahmood Sadiq, was about three years old. At the time of partition, my father was twenty five years old, a matriculate and employed in Railway Workshop Amritsar as a draughtsman at a princely salary of Rs. 43/- per month. My elder uncle, Ghulam Sadiq, employed as a guard in the NW railway, a job that he continued after partition, was stationed in Rawalpindi, where he was to spend his whole life. After partition, my father was employed in Irrigation department as a draughtsman, and my younger uncle, Irshad Hassan, in the railways workshop as a store keeper. They settled, together with eight other immigrant families, in a large building in Gujjar Gali, Gumti Bazaar area in Mohalla Pani Wala Talab, Lahore, where we continued to live till early 1970s. The story of this building needs to be narrated here. Built on a squarish irregular plot of land measuring about 50x45 feet , the Building was a three stories high structure. Above the double door gate was a stone plaque reading ‘Gulzari Mal, Jewellers, 1939’.Not much is known to us about the family of Gulzari Mal. However, in the early years of independence, there were some residents of the neighbourhood who knew the family. Unfortunately, we didn’t bother to take notes. Having undergone the same trauma, we didn’t think it merited any importance. However, he was a successful jeweller with a thriving shop in the nearby ‘Sarafa’ Bazaar. He had five sons and an unknown number of daughters. Certainly, it was a large family and the rich merchant built a house consistent with his wealth. My father’s Majeed Phupha (Baray Phupha to us) was in Delhi during partition where he owned a carpet shop. He migrated to Lahore in late September and started looking for an abandoned house to settle his family. By some circumstances, he was led to Mohalla Pani Wala Talab, where he found this huge building, all vacant and ready to be occupied. Another group of three Urdu speaking families from Delhi also reached building soon after, almost simultaneously. My Baray Phupha allowed these families to occupy the ground floor and himself took up residence on the first. We need to remember that the migrants were fused with patriotic and sacrificial spirit. The selfishness and corruptions came much later. Within weeks, a group of two families also came along and the Barray Phupha, with a remarkable accommodating attitude, let them have the second floor. When the family of his nephew, Tahir, came looking for shelter, he allowed him to go on the third floor in two of the Barsatis which had an attached kitchen. After some time, when my younger Chacha, Irshad, found job in Lahore Railway Workshop and needed shelter, the magnanimous Phupha gave him one of the remaining Barsatis. The fourth Barsati was occupied by one of the families given the second floor. My father's maternal uncle, commonly called Babu Mama, who had divorced his wife in pre-partition days and was single, couldn't settle in Rawalpindi and found a job in Lahore in around 1950. He was given the fifth and the last remaining Barsati by the ever generous Phupha. When my father was posted to Lahore in 1959, we started sharing this fifth Barsati. After sometime, Babu shifted to a room in Rang Mahal Chowk so that his nephew could live comfortably with his family. For a long time, I used to carry food from my home (read room/Barsati) for Babu Mama. He would give me a few coins that I kept in an earthen Money box. My mother’s family were tailors by profession and were residents of Katra Karam Singh, where my maternal grandfather (Nana) had built a fairly big house. My maternal great grandfather had migrated from Kashmir and could converse in Kashmiri only, knowing little Punjabi. He had set up a thriving tailoring practice that was continued by my Nana, who was known in the area as Master Razzaq. His apprentices (shagirds) and workers continued to respect him in Lahore after partition. A survivor of Jallianwala massacre, he was a loyal worker of pro-Congress and anti-Pakistan Majlis Ahrar. Katra Karam Singh was also the abode of Bholu Pehlwan and his family, where my mother studied Holy Quran from Bholu’s sister. The pehlwans were clients of my Nana for their clothes. They settled in Mohni Road, Lahore after partition and continued to invite my maternal uncles to their fights till the late 1960s. When partitioned occurred, Katra Karam Singh was relatively peaceful and my Nana refused to move out despite the turmoil in the surrounding areas. When the environment deteriorated rapidly, especially after the arrival of Sikh and Hindu refugees from West Punjab, he sent his family to Lahore on a train with the family of my one of my maternal grandmother’s sister. He was hoping to get them back when peace prevailed. The two families found refuge in a house in Kailash Gali, Gowalmandi. This Gali was off Bhagwan Bazaar which forked from the Railway Road along Amritdhara Building. My Nana, who soon found Amritsar dangerous for Muslims, migrated in late August 1947 and partially walked to Lahore despite a polio induced limp in his left leg. He set up his shop close to Amritdhara building at the junction of Bhagwan Bazaar, Ram bazaar and the street leading to Dil Muhammad Road. He ran this tailoring shop till his death in 1968. His two sons went in to jewellery making trade. The two families shared the house for the next quarter century. A son of my maternal grandmother’s sister still lives there. My mother was married from this house in 1950 and I was born there in 1952. I spent many of my childhood days in the locality, mastered the Lahori dictionary of four letter words, loitered around the mausoleum of Shah Mali, stole poultry from the nearby streets and nearly went on to become a pick pocket, but that is another story. Gowalmandi was known for producing ruffians of all kind. Luckily, I moved on to more respectable vocations. During the fevered political atmosphere of mid 1940s, my father’s family was staunchly in the Muslim League camp. Till the middle of the year 1947, the security situation of the city was normal. With the June plan, when it became certain that the British would leave by August and that the Punjab province would be divided between the two emerging nations along religious lines, stabbings and arson started occurring with increasing frequency. Those living or passing through the majority areas of rival community were especially at great risk. The railway line from Delhi to Lahore passed on the north side of the city along the circular road. Hathi gate was located on the north east corner of the walled city. Durga Mandir and the railway station cum workshop complex were located across the circular road from this gate. As one went south from the gate on the circular road, the first mohalla on the left was Lohgarh Gate, followed by Lahori Gate and Katra Karm Singh in quick succession. On 1st¬August, when my father and uncle Irshad were returning from their offices on their bicycles on the circular road, a homemade explosive device was hurled at them in between Hathi and Lohgarh gates. On the 4th,two cousins of my grandmother (Dadi) were injured in a firing incident. On the 7th, there was another bombing incident in the locality. My father and uncle didn't go to office again. The fires and firings started coming closer to their street. On the 4th, my grandmother, and some of her relatives, departed for Rawalpindi to be with her elder son. Curfew had been enforced in the city by 7th. On the 13th morning afternoon, the curfew was lifted between 3 and 5 in the afternoon. My father and the remaining family packed whatever they could, hired a tonga for Rs. 3/- (they were still plying) and ran the gauntlet of crossing the battle lines to the railway station. The place was full of Muslims waiting for the trains to Pakistan. They couldn't board the first three and, eventually, found space on the fourth. My father climbed and rode on the top of the engine. They reached Rawalpindi and went to Islamia College refugee camp to wait for the rest of the extended family to arrive. When they did, they proceeded to the better managed Mansar Camp for refugees on the GT road in Campbellpur district, on the left bank of river Indus. The camp is now the home of AJK Regimental Centre. They had luckily reached Pakistan unscathed, though homeless, jobless and without any household items. Whenever I see a photograph of a refugee train with people sitting on top of carriages or pass by AJK Centre, I recall the trial and trauma suffered by my loved ones in those difficult Partition days. The family stayed in Mansar Camp for about two months before moving to Rawalpindi in early October. The earlier residents of Mohallas Nanakpura and Mohanpura were mostly Sikhs and Hindus and had left for India. My father, his mother and three brothers took an empty house in Mohanpura. His maternal uncles occupied a house in Nanakpura. Many other members of the family also took houses in these two localities, where some of them still live.Theyalso started raiding nearby vacant houses to collect household goods. In one of the houses, they found a sword with a scabbard, which is still being held by family of my elder uncle (Taya). Till early seventies, we possessed brass glasses and silver woks with Hindu names inscribed on them. Unfortunately, we didn't think of preserving them as part of history but then it seemed insignificant as every household in our family had some items belonging to that looting. It is also bizarre and astonishing that perfectly peaceful and law abiding citizens resorted to raiding vacant houses to start their lives afresh. While my elder uncle, being posted to Rawalpindi Railway Station, continued to live in Mohanpura house till late 1970’s, the search for employment took my father and his younger brother to Lahore. My brothers and I were born and raised in Gumti Bazaar and Gowalmandi areas. The life had started to take a semblance of normalcy. June 2016 Parvez Mahmood retired as a Group Captain from PAF and is now a software engineer. He lives in Islamabad and writes on social and historical issues. He can be reached at parvezmahmood53@gmail.com