The Tribune, Chandigarh, India

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‘Partition of Punjab could have been averted’
Aditi Tandon talks to Prof Ishtiaq Ahmed, Emeritus Professor, Stockholm University

Emeritus Professor at Stockholm University, Ishtiaq Ahmed was born in Lahore in 1947 and educated at Forman Christian College and University of the Punjab. He took his PhD in political science from Stockholm University after defending his dissertation, “The Concept of an Islamic State: The Ideological Controversy in Pakistan”, in 1985. Honorary Senior Fellow at the Institute of South Asian Studies, Prof Ahmed is in news for his major recent inquiry into the Partition of Punjab, titled “The Punjab Bloodied, Partitioned and Cleansed: Unravelling the 1947 Tragedy through Secret British Reports and First Person Accounts”. He was in Delhi last week for a seminar. Excerpts

Much has been written on the horrors of the Partition. What led you to revisit the subject?

As a child I would hear gory tales of murders from my mother. I grew up in Lahore wondering where those Hindus and Sikhs would be who once inhabited these streets. The theory of Islamic state as the root of Partition did not convince me. I decided to launch my own inquiry.

What is the argument of your work?

The Partition of India was necessary, but not a sufficient basis for the partition of the Punjab. In other words, had India not been partitioned, the Punjab would not have been partitioned. The puzzle is why the three major communities of Punjab — Muslims who formed the majority with 53 per cent population and Hindus and Sikhs who made up 30 per cent and 14 per cent of the population, respectively — not agree to keep their province united despite a rich history of pluralistic culture? The book offers answers to this question.

How is the work different from the existing literature on the Partition?

For the first time, I have developed a theory of ethnic cleansing and said the first case of ethnic cleansing after World War II took place in Punjab. The Punjab partition could have been averted if Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs shared a Punjabi cultural identity that transcended their religious identities. Instead, the religious factor became the basis of politically relevant ethnicity in Punjab. By the end of 1947, all traces of Muslim presence in Indian East Punjab (except in Malerkotla) and all traces of Hindu and Sikh presence from Pakistani West Punjab had been wiped out. In Punjab alone, five to eight lakh people lost their lives and 10 million crossed over.

Given Punjab’s rich history of Bhakti, Sufi and Sikh Guru traditions, what triggered the violence?

Being a Swedish national of Pakistani origin, I could easily visit both Punjabs and met over 250 survivors over 15 years. Until the 1940s, Punjab Unionist Party headed by Muslim leaders and supported by Hindus and Sikhs dominated Punjab, which remained peaceful. The Muslim League (ML) and Congress had no presence. The turning point was the March 23, 1940, ML resolution seeking Muslim states. It triggered panic among Hindus and Sikhs. In the 1945-46 election campaign, the ML used fanatical “Islam in danger” campaign to wrest power in Punjab and further alienated the Hindus and Sikhs. It swept 75 of the 86 reserved Muslim seats but still couldn’t form the government. The Congress, Panthic Parties and Unionist Parties formed a coalition under Khizr Tiwana and the ML felt betrayed.

You say the Muslims started the violence in Punjab but suffered much larger casualties in the end.

That’s right. After the British announced the transfer of power to Indians on February 20, 1947, Khizr Tiwana panicked and resigned, throwing Punjab into turmoil. Master Tara Singh famously flashed his sword outside the Punjab Assembly calling for the destruction of the Pakistan idea. This triggered communal clashes. In the Muslim majority Multan, Rawalpindi, Attock and Jhelum, Muslims unleashed brutalities on Sikhs and Hindus who began migrating to East Punjab. Around six million Muslims of East Punjab had not been attacked until July. It was only on August 17 when the Radcliffe Award was announced that all hell broke loose on them. More Muslims than Sikhs and Hindus ultimately died.

Which sources do you quote to substantiate that argument?

The evidence is based on heart-wrenching interviews I conducted with many Muslims. The fact was Muslims were much less prepared to cross over than Hindus and Sikhs who had started migrating to East Punjab as early as March 1947 when they were first attacked. Muslims were attacked much later and were caught unawares when the Radcliffe award was announced. The dance of death that took place in western Punjab until June 1947 now played out in East Punjab on a much grander scale. Only the Muslims of Malerkotla were spared due to the promise of safety the Tenth Sikh Guru had made to the Muslims in lieu of the protection the Nawab of Malerkotla offered to the Guru’s sons.

What other factors led to ethnic cleansing?

The British control was ending without a power-sharing formula among apprehensive communities of the Punjab province. State functionaries took partisan positions after power was transferred to East and West Punjab administrations. There were not enough British troops to prevent the violence even though Punjab Governor Evan Jenkins repeatedly warned of it. Jinnah never publicly condemned the killings of Hindus and Sikhs by Muslims in March 1947. This undermined the possibility of any agreement between him and the Sikhs to keep the Punjab united. The Sikhs sought partition on religious lines like that of India and the Congress backed the demand. The Muslim League agreed because without the partition of Punjab, there would have been no Pakistan.

FIFTY FIFTY
Endearing tales from exquisite Lahore
KISHWAR DESAI

Minar-e-Pakistan, Lahore.

‘Jis Lahore nahi vekhya O jamya nahi….’ There is always an emotional link, even for those of us born post-Partition, when we go to Lahore. Perhaps it is my Punjabi origins which connect automatically — or it is the stories I have heard about my parents growing up there. Apart from the fact that we have very dear family friends who live there, my instinctive connect with the city is also because my father studied in Government College Lahore (for which he retains deep warmth and affection, often meeting with other alumni) and my mother’s father was the Advocate-General, and so she spent her early childhood at Queen’s Road. She studied at Sacred Heart. At the Karachi Literature Festival, there were many who empathised when I spoke of how my maternal grandfather locked the house and left for Amritsar, just before August 15, 1947, saying he would come back with his family when things were calmer. And of course he and his family had to abandon that home permanently, losing everything overnight.

Others that I met in Karachi and Lahore had similar stories to tell — of dislocation and separation, but in the reverse. They had left what is now India and shifted to Pakistan and the sense of nostalgia is palpable. Each one of them would like to return at least once and search for their family roots. It is these people who tell the most heartbreaking stories of meaningless laws as they are not permitted to enter India for all kinds of reasons.

For instance one 75-year old had been refused permission over and over again because he had no family members left on the Indian side of Punjab. Is this still something we should be fighting about? Why can’t we have a more relaxed visa regime and allow as many people as possible and vice versa? Apart from the elderly, a new generation is growing up curious about its history and we need to mend these unhealthy, divisive policies.

Lahore itself has changed dramatically from what I remembered of it. I had first gone there coincidentally when Prime Minister Vajpayee had been on his goodwill mission to meet Nawaz Sharif. At that time, it had been somewhat spruced up, but nothing like it is today. It appears that Shahbaz Sharif, the incumbent Chief Minister and brother of the former Prime Minister, has been pushing a modernising agenda — and so the streets are broad and clean while a reliable public transport system has sprung up with metro buses traversing the length of the city, providing air-conditioned and affordable comfort.

Lahoris proudly told me that the bus system was operational within a remarkably short period of 18 months. Again, some of the new buildings, especially the theatre complexes, are world class. The central canal, prettily decorated with bright sunflowers by arts college students, and the wall murals in the market, indicated that we were obviously in a city where some amount of love and care is being taken about the atmosphere and the environment.

Shahbaz Sharif incidentally has now married Tehmina Durrani, the fiercely outspoken author who wrote about her abusive marriage with another former Chief Minister of Punjab, Ghulam Mustafa Khar. Her resultant book, My Fuedal Lord, created shock waves all over the world as few women have dared to be as honest as she was. Indeed I saw her at the KLF, where she was speaking about her latest book on that remarkable social worker Abdul Sattar Edhi, but it was obvious that her equal rights campaign for women continues and now she is fighting for fairer alimony for divorced women.

However, even through Lahoris do grumble about corruption and that the Pakistan Muslim League Chief and Shahbaz Sharif’s brother, Nawaz Sharif, apparently lives in a palatial 93-bedroom house, they are still proud of their city. And it is this modernisation process that they would like the world to associate with them. They all long for peace with India so they can continue to progress uninterrupted.

One memorable evening our hosts took us out for North West frontier cuisine, accompanied with live music and dance, at a very upmarket hotel. It was another eye-opener for those who might imagine that Pakistan does not allow this space or freedom. Ironically, most of the music was from Hindi cinema. And as the performer on stage swayed to the tuneful lyrics from “Pakeezah” while the diners munched their way through a variety of kebabs, we felt remarkably relaxed. Everything was familiar (even the overdressed Punjabi women with streaked hair seated on an adjoining table). Not for a moment did we feel it was a foreign country. Nor did anyone go out of their way to make us feel unwanted.

I did not have time to visit the art galleries or attend musical soirees’ which I remembered from another visit, but Lahore possesses an increasingly expansive liberal and cultural spirit that is very enticing. Now one hopes that travel becomes progressively easier and simpler so we can all partake of it more frequently.