MIDNIGHT’S CHILDREN

Mistakes of the past can’t be repeated

Chiranji Lal Kangniwal, Jalandhar

Born: March 9, 1947

For anyone seeking information on the Indian Freedom Movement, historian and peacenik, Chiranji Lal Kangniwal, is the go-to scholar.

Born at Kangniwal village in Jalandhar, the post-Partition, ruinous villages of Noorpur, Raowali, Nangal, Lalpur, Sheikhe, Alawalpur in Jalandhar — abandoned after the predominantly Muslim population fled to Pakistan — served as his sordid childhood landscape. Kangniwal has been a witness to the state’s great tragedies — from 1947 to 1984. Born to a poor Dalit family, he studied till high school. Today, he is an authority on India’s Independence movement and has authored 18 books.

His books are replete with victory songs of the men of yore who abandoned wealth and comfort to fight for freedom.

What does freedom mean? ‘People must have the right to liberty and to live their lives the way they want. Displaced families had to wait for years to get land. The conspiracy to divide people was political then. Today, it is capitalist and threatens to rip apart the social fabric we took ages to weave with care. We must ensure that we do not repeat the mistakes of our past. Freedom came at a great price, guard it,’ he advises. — Aparna Banerji

Also heard tales of friendship & people left behind

Manmohan Singh Aurora, Amritsar

Born: November 2, 1947

‘My grandfather served as a collector in Peshawar and owned a home and agricultural land at Khasa Pathani village in Pakistan. Our family migrated from Lahore to Amritsar few years before Partition following events leading to the division. My father had bought a house next to a house in Amritsar and told me that a Muslim family that lived there had fled to Pakistan. They used to run a soap-making factory here,’ says Manmohan Singh Aurora, an Amritsar-based lawyer.

His first memory of Partition was when he was five years old. His grandfather regaled him with stories of Lahore, Karachi and beautiful Murree. ‘Our extended family had lost all their earnings in the riots. Growing up, my five siblings and I would hear stories of loss, but not all stories were traumatic. We also heard about happy memories, tales of shared love and friendship that got left behind,’ he says. It is important to hold good times close to the heart. — Neha Walia

Young India was beautiful—all got down to building a nation

Swatantar Kaur, Mohali

Born: August 15, 1947

‘Young India was beautiful. The politicians were friendly and accessible,’ says Swatantar Kaur. Meaning ‘free’, her name captures the spirit of Independent India. Born to an Army officer, Kishan Singh Johal, who retired as a Colonel, Swatantar’s struggle for survival — quite like the throes of freedom — began in the womb. ‘We lived in Lahore as my father’s Sikh Li regiment was posted there. In mid-July, the regiment was ordered to move to Chennai. My mother, who was pregnant with me, undertook the over 20-day arduous journey in a special military train. It was too much for her. She was rushed to the Military Hospital, where I was born at 1 am — premature at seven months.’ The day was August 15, 1947.

‘A British officer told my parents that I was born in Free India, and should be named after it,’ she smiles. Swatantar later moved to Delhi and was a member of the Delhi Art Theatre, where she met several artists like Satish Gujral and Kulbhushan Kharbanda. ‘Indira Gandhi was a regular visitor to the theatre. Those times were different. It was easy to meet her, or even Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. People were accessible... everybody seemed busy building a new India of their dreams. We seem to lack that now.’

She married an Army officer and later, moved to nascent Chandigarh. ‘Seems it was my destiny to see cities come up,’she says. — Jupinderjit Singh

Partition stories not something you forget

Manohar Lal Sachdeva, Ambala

Born: March 10, 1947

Manohar Lal Sachdeva was six months old when his parents fled to Nasirpur village in Sargodha district of Pakistan during Partition.

‘My mother used to tell me about the horrific scenes they witnessed during their journey to India. She saw a child being killed. She wrapped me in her dupatta and sat in the corner of a train for hours without moving. Partition’s pains can not be forgotten,’ says Sachdeva, a leading textile businessman. ‘My forefathers were businessmen in Pakistan. After coming to India, we moved to the Baldev Nagar Camp in Ambala, but later shifted to Dhamot in Ludhiana. Life was a struggle for my mother. She stitched clothes, worked in fields, dug up pits on roads, ran a small grocery shop,’ he says.

They had learnt a lesson in survival. ‘I, too. At 16, I started selling clothes on a cycle. I remember earning Rs 39 on the first day. We established our business at Khanna, but in 1986, we shifted to Ambala.’ Struggles build character, says Sachdeva. ‘I inherited honesty and discipline from my parents, and it stood me in good stead,’ he says. — Nitish Sharma

Growing up, we were told stories of hallas or mob attacks

Prem Wati, Ahmedgarh

Born: August 14, 1947

People, like nations, have their own destinies, and like them, when free, come into their own. But before that there is a churning. ‘Whenever power exchanges hands or there is a conflict, women and children suffer the most,’ says Prem Wati of Ahmedgarh.

Decades have passed, time moves on, but it has a way of standing eerily still. Prem Wati shivers when she tries to imagine how her mother was forced to move from room to room cradling a newborn in her arms, gunshots rendering the air on the intervening night of August 14 and 15. ‘Growing up, my mother Maya Devi would recount her worst nightmare, reliving it over and over again. It never really left her,’ she says.

They heard horror stories about abductions, atrocities, civil wars before and after hallas (mob attacks). ‘Several Sikh families from Pakistan, known as ‘Baarias’, had settled at Andlu village adjoining her native Basrawan village. Several Muslim families sought refuge at our home. Among them was Rehmo, a midwife, who helped expectant mothers of the village. The turbulent times came with small mercies,’she says.

Prem Wati cherishes a collection of coins of pre-Independence era, antique utensils and handloom items left by her parents. Among her treasures is a weighing balance her father used in his grocery shop — her link to the past. — Mahesh Sharma

Dudhali village showed the way

Mehar Saini, Yamunanagar

Born: March 10, 1947

When the clouds of hatred and distrust sat heavy on the fledgling country finding its feet, Dudhali village of Yamunanagar district stood tall as a beacon of hope. Both communities were part of the village fabric, living together for decades, sharing their joys and sorrows. The riots blighted it all.

Hindus had vowed to protect their Muslim brethren and ensure that they reached their destination, Uttar Pradesh, safely, says Mehar Singh Saini, a retired maths teacher.

‘The Hindus did their utmost to help Muslims,’ he says. ‘My parents were illiterate, but they motivated me to study. I owe them everything.’ — Shiv Kumar Sharma

As a nation, where are we headed?

Suresh Kumari, Faridabad

Born: September 28, 1947

Suresh Kumari, a retired teacher, says a lot of water has flowed under the bridge. There has been tremendous economic development, but we, as a society, have failed to evolve holistically. ‘Peace ought to have come with freedom. That hasn’t happened. Women’s safety and crime are major concerns,’ says Suresh Kumari, who served as a government teacher for 35 years.

‘We must nurture and safeguard values and promote discipline among younger generations. Privatisation of education and neglect of government schools has stunted academic growth. Our performance in the Paris Olympics was not impressive. We were unable to win a gold medal. Why? As a nation, we must know where we are headed,’she says pointedly. — Bijendra Ahlawat

Youth moving out of villages, why?

Durga Dutt Bhardwaj, Shimla

Born: August 8, 1947

‘Education was not easily available in our times. Road connectivity was poor. We would tread 15 km to reach our school at Theog, and another 15 km to get back home,’ says Durga Dutt Bhardwaj, a retired Assistant Commandant from SSB.

He believes that the country’s journey since Independence has been a mixed bag. Born at Nala village, 25 km from Shimla, the septuagenarian says growth of the education sector and road connectivity have been the key highlights. ‘But the increasing western influence on our education system should be checked. Children are losing connection with our culture and don’t talk in their mother tongue anymore. It’s not good, education should help us preserve our culture and identity,’ says Bhardwaj, who was recruited as a head constable in 1966.

The decline of agriculture in the hills is another worrisome trend. ‘There was a lot of thrust on agriculture in the hills when we were young. Rapid urbanisation is taking away our youth from villages. It will not be good for the country in the long run,’ he warns. — Subhash Rajta

It was time for Art 370 to go

Rani Jaswal, Dharamsala

Born: May 17, 1947

A septuagenarian homemaker, Rani Jaswal was born in a remote village of J&K. In 1948, her father Maj Ajit Singh was taken POW during the Skardu conflict. He spent three years in a Pakistan jail and was released in 1951. Subsequently, he was commissioned in 9 J&K Rifles and was awarded Vir Chakra.

During the 1962 and 1965 wars, she remembers how during school days, they would stitch clothes and bandages for soldiers. No stranger to war and its implications, Rani was delighted on the abrogation of Article 370. ‘It has empowered the women in a state infested with militancy for decades,’ she says.

India is emerging as a superpower, says Rani. ‘One couldn’t have imagined it at the time of Independence.’ — Raghav Guleria

They need to know: We chose India

Rakaia, Ahmedgarh

Rakaia cherishes the intrinsic humanity of her Muslim father Anokh Deen and Sikh residents of her native village Meemsa. ‘My father was a crusader against female foeticide. When Muslims were proceeding towards a relief camp at Sangrur on the dark night of August 14, he refused to dump me in a drain — my cries would have drawn the attention of mobsters. It would have been the end of them all, but he was resolute,’ she says.

Sikh farmers had earned the respect of Muslims. ‘The farmers insisted on bringing them back from relief camps to their homes,’she recounts. ‘About a dozen Muslim families lived at Meemsa, but fearing rioters, had decided to leave. Half of them agreed to return’ — a testimony to their camaraderie, she says.

‘One of my sons, Shiraj Mohammad, has been the only Muslim president of the Ahmedgarh Municipal Council,’ she smiles. She is sombre when she talks of politicians. ‘They must understand the sentiments of our parents who preferred to risk their lives in their motherland instead of leaving for Pakistan. They knew only one home — India.’

— Mahesh Sharma