Resettling women refugees

EDUCATION and culture, freedom and responsibility, friends and fruits — these are the things that come to mind when I think of my days in Lahore, the city I moved to from Patiala after my matriculation.

In Lahore, I studied at Rai Bahadur Sohan Lal Training College for my BT (Bachelor of Teaching) and then joined Government College, Lahore, for MA in Philosophy. Since my father, Col Sher Singh, was in Peshawar, I was in college hostels. My parents’ progressive attitude towards learning and my determination to study for higher education allowed me to be in Lahore as a young woman. Even as I studied hard, I learned to negotiate the barriers of patriarchy and feudal attitudes. In my free time, my friends always teased me they did not have to look hard to find me; I would be at the nearest fruit shop.

In April 1946, I moved from Lahore to Patiala after completing my MA and soon started teaching. I would often reminisce about my pleasant Lahore days and say that I would soon visit the capital of Punjab. This was not to be.

The year 1947 was historic, it gave us Independence, and the Partition triggered the massacre of lakhs of Hindu, Sikh and Muslim masses. Particularly painful was the humiliation and mistreatment of women — thousands suffered as they were abducted and abused. Many jumped into wells and died.

In the last days of August, I was standing on the balcony of our Lal Bagh house when I heard loud noises in the street and saw about two dozen unclothed women being paraded by a horrible crowd. So disgusted was I with this terrible scene that even today, when I think of it, I shudder with revulsion. I vowed to do all I could to help my unfortunate sisters, although I could do nothing that day.

Refugees started pouring into Patiala, spurred by the generosity of Maharaja Yadavindra Singh, who welcomed them. They were in a pathetic state — people of means suddenly without means, rendered homeless, grateful to be alive. Now they had to deal with the loss of those family members and friends who did not make it, as well as the catastrophic loss of the financial underpinnings that built up their family’s economic security.

With like-minded ladies, most of them elder to me, I got to work in Mata Sahib Kaur Dal, named after Guru Gobind Singh’s wife.

Manmohan Kaur, the wife of Gian Singh Rarewala, the then Prime Minister of Patiala state, was the president and Harraj Kaur the vice-chief. I was the general secretary. To help these displaced people, we sought the assistance of prominent people, especially the DC, Baldev Singh, and Wazir Singh Jeji, DPI.

We concentrated on women refugees from Lahore, Rawalpindi, Pothohar, Multan and Jhang. Over a hundred beautiful Kashmiri women who were especially vulnerable in the Kurukshetra camp came to Patiala.

We wanted to gather as much as we could give to them. So, in addition to official help, we would go around the city collecting food and clothes. We had never ever done this, and we were initially a bit embarrassed, but the cause emboldened us. Seeing girls from “good families” coming out on the streets to ask for donations was a unique sight. They gave generously, and I am sure that the novelty factor also came into play. Let’s remember that this was the Patiala in which, when I was in school, a covered family buggy always transported me in purdah.

Of course, there were difficulties, including the one I faced at home when my mother gently admonished me and said girls from our background were not expected to be out on the streets, literally begging! The eternal issue: “What would people say!”

I replied that the cause was so great that it didn’t matter what people thought; what mattered was what we could do for the people who needed help so desperately. She soon came around to this point of view and in fact actively donated from our own home and started persuading others to donate as well, of course without ever coming in the limelight or stepping out of her Lal Bagh home, as was expected of her. I have always admired the power of Indian women who accomplish so much within the social constraints they face.

We sent two truckloads to refugee camps in Baramulla and Poonch in Kashmir, where the Patiala army had come to the rescue of the locals. These trucks contained food items, old clothes, blankets, woollens, as also bathing items.

Meanwhile, Patiala was being inundated with people from across what had suddenly become a border. Active measures were taken by Gian Singh Rarewala and the editor of Parkash daily newspaper, Giani Gurdit Singh, to bring in scholars and settle them in Patiala in the houses vacated by the Muslim population that had now moved to Pakistan. On behalf of the Mata Sahib Kaur Dal, we rehabilitated hundreds of families at Patiala.

We gave the women sewing machines to work on, earn a living. Initially, we even marketed their products. All this in addition to the regular work we did at our homes! In my case, there was also teaching at the Victoria Girls Intermediate College, which I had joined on December 16, 1946.

Soon after Partition, there was the issue of marooned Muslim women who were being exploited. Along with other ladies, I met Mridula Sarabhai. She enlisted our help, but the task itself was challenging, and I have mixed feelings about it till date.

We faced many difficulties in recovering abducted women. In Sangrur, a Muslim woman flatly refused to go to Pakistan. “I live well here. I get to eat and drink, I get to wear jewellery, I have two children, how can I leave them?” she said. In Bhawanigarh, another woman voiced a common concern: “I lost my honour here, who is there to accept me now?” In a village near Kharar, the Sardar who had a Muslim woman in his house said: “This Allahrakhi had given me my heir.” The woman, too, refused to go.

I enlisted one of my friends from Lahore to help us, and with her assistance, we were able to locate some families and send women back to them. On the whole, for many, it was double displacement, and it was with a sense of relief that many of us volunteers saw the endeavour wind down.

In any case, there were refugee families in Patiala to be taken care of. As often happens, with the passage of time, help was dwindling, but in the meantime, the people who had crossed the border were empowering themselves, taking control of their lives.

Post-partition, Patiala had lost a sizeable Muslim population. The new population came in with fresh energy. People were willing to work to regain the life that they had lost, and they devoted themselves to it with uncommon verve and focus. Naturally, this brought a sense of satisfaction and pride in me and became the balm that healed the horrors I had seen. In time, I would teach their children in college, and they would be post-graduate students at Punjabi University when I was there.

— The writer served as Vice-Chancellor of Punjabi University, Patiala, & headed Staff Selection Commission, New Delhi