Understanding Pakistan: A Conversation with a 92-Year-Old Partition Survivor 🇮🇳🇵🇰
We recently had the incredible opportunity to sit down with a 92-year-old Army Veteran who carries the scars of partition, not just the stories. In a world where the rivalry between India and Pakistan has only grown louder, from “cricket pitches to political punches,” “loud headlines to quiet graveyards,” there’s a deep desire among young Indians to understand our neighbour. Who better to talk to than someone who lived through that defining moment in history?
Our host, Samdish, visited the veteran’s home to ask a question that still echoes across generations: How do we deal with this neighbour?.
Life Before Partition in Lahore 🏠
The veteran is almost 92 years old. He was around fourteen during the partition in 1947. He was in Lahore. He migrated earlier than his father, who migrated in September 1947. His father worked in the High Court of Punjab in Lahore. At that time, being a graduate was a rare commodity, and his father, Nanachand, was one. This made it easy for him to find a job in the High Court as they were looking for educated men.
The veteran first heard the term “Pakistan” in 1946. He lived in a place called Kucha Dinanath Tandon in Gowal Mandi, Lahore. This was primarily a Hindu colony, but at the end of the Kucha, there was a small gully where only Muslims were living. There was a fear of going into the Muslim area; they all thought they were “not to be mixed with”. They were already living separately, not interspersed.
The Fires Begin 🔥
Seeing smoke and fire from the terrace of their house in Lahore became a reality in 1946. This became more rampant in the earlier part of 1947. The veteran was a student of 9th standard at the time. Rumours were circulating, mostly that Muslims were burning the houses of Hindus, and Hindus were burning the houses of Muslims.
Government servants, like his father, were asked if they would stay in Pakistan or go to India. His father initially decided to stay in Lahore, saying, “So what if it’s Pakistan?”.
In March 1947, with “all this nonsense” going on, his father decided to send the children away. The veteran, his two younger brothers, and his youngest sister went to their nani’s/mama’s place in Sri Ganganagar, Rajasthan, where their uncles lived. Schools were closed in March 1947; all teaching institutions were shut. The veteran was in 9th, preparing to go into 10th.
A Difficult Journey to India 🚂🐪
His father, Nanachand, stayed in Lahore through August and September 1947, but found it very difficult. He even changed his name board at the house from Nanachand to Aziz Ahmed so that Muslim people would see a Muslim name.
His uncle, who was in the army and posted in Mughalpura, Lahore, helped. He came with a tonga and took the veteran’s mother and father to the station. There were two ways to get to Ganganagar: a meter gauge train (via Bhatinda) or a broad gauge train up to Hindu Malkot, followed by a bus or camel ride. Camels and horses were common means of transport, even for poor folk.
In September, the veteran, his father, two younger brothers, and sister came to Hindu Malkot. At the station, they were told a goods train was going and they could get in a box meant for luggage. With great difficulty, they climbed inside that box and travelled to Rajpura.
At Rajpura, they were told the train would go no further. They had to stay on the platform for four days, cooking food and eating bread. There was no other transport available. While on the platform, they witnessed trains arriving “loaded with bleeding people” from both Hindu and Muslim sides. Eventually, a truck (load carrier) outside the station agreed to take them for 500 rupees per head. They travelled in that truck to Jalandhar, then to Hoshiarpur.
Landing as Refugees 🏘️
They arrived at their village, Hardo Khanpur, near Hoshiarpur. It was primarily a Pathan village with 1000 Pathan Muslim and 200 Hindu houses. Before, they had lived very amicably with “no venom earlier”. However, by the time they reached, the Pathan Muslims had “all run away”.
Upon arrival, they landed as refugees. They were “dubbed as refugees” and were given a refugee card, the veteran’s number was 2354. They were considered refugees in their own village. Refugee camps were set up in the six mosques in the village, which were empty as the Muslims had left. The head of the panchayat told refugees to enter any empty house left by Muslims. They occupied a reasonably made house of solid brick with a well and a jamun tree.
The term used was simply “Refugee”; there wasn’t an Indian Punjabi word for it. While not used in a denigrating way, it was a constant identifier – for instance, there would be calls announcing that “today all the refugees will get a blanket”.
Reflections on Relations and Politics 🤔
When asked about the idea of pre-partition friendliness, the veteran is clear: “No, no, no, we were never friendly. We were never friendly.”. They never attended each other’s weddings or associated as one. There was co-existence but not an intermingling. However, they were not “abhorring the community”. For example, he used to buy milk from a Muslim gawala every evening in Lahore. He remembers a Muslim girl from the house they occupied in the village, Intazar Begum, who used to bring him ingredients for halwa because she knew he wouldn’t eat it if it was homemade in her house.
He has never been back to Lahore but wanted to see places like Gowal Mandi, Dayal Singh College, and the Gandha Engine locality (called that because sewage was processed there).
Regarding the perception of Pakistan, he says his generation has always thought of it as a “rogue country” ever since ‘47. He feels true democracy has never occurred there; it’s always the army ruling directly or by proxy. He believes their leaders let them down and the army had the upper hand at crucial moments.
As for Indian leaders, he knew Jinnah was the leader for Muslims and Nehru for Indians. People thought Nehru was “God”. He even saw Nehru at his passing out parade in December 1953. He was also aware that Mahatma Gandhi was very important.
An Army Career and Personal Loss 🎖️💔
The veteran had a very successful career in the army. He retired as the director quality assurance armaments for the Ministry of Defence. He considers himself a conventional armyman, focused on guns, ammunition, and tanks. He was the commandant of the Central Proof Establishment (CPE) in Itarsi, which had a 45km long range. The noise from firing guns there resulted in partial hearing loss, and he now uses a hearing device.
He is one of very few survivors from his original course of 90 people. He feels miserable because he is the “only remnant of my family”. Seeing officers born earlier than him dying makes him feel he “can live for seven more years”.
When asked for life advice, he says, “you must have a good partner”. He says he has a very good partner and almost always agrees with his wife now.
A great tragedy in his life was the loss of his son. His son was restless, moving from the merchant navy to becoming a commander in the Indian Navy, but still wanted to return to the merchant navy. In 2001, while returning from a course in Bombay to his family in Pune, his son fell from a train near Shivaji Nagar station and died on the spot. His son had two children. The veteran is glad his son’s wife remarried and is happy, but is not happy that the children are not in communication with them.
A Friendly Chat 😊
Samdish noted the veteran looked like Marlon Brando, and he showed photos of himself as a Lieutenant Colonel, Colonel, and Brigadier.
Reflecting on the interview experience, the veteran shared that he was anxious the day before. However, he found the interview to be very, very friendly and never expected an interviewer would be so friendly. He felt it went well and expected to have a sound sleep afterwards. By the end, they agreed they could now call each other friends.
This conversation offers a poignant glimpse into the personal impact of partition and the complex layers of history that shape the relationship between two nations.