First person experience of the partition, MAJOR. WC: 897
How was independence established in India? (focus on communal violence, POV of a Hindu man and what he experiences/feels about the partition and the chaos it has brought forth)
It has begun. The escalated hatred between the Muslims and Hindus has brought our country to pure and unprecedented chaos. The British are seeking an easy way out, disregarding all the tension they have caused in our mother country, India. It is a matter of self-preservation. Before, a one-year gap was proposed before they were to leave India- that has shortened significantly. In just three months, they are planning to scamper out of our country as fast as they came in a century ago, on false pretenses. They do not have the economic resources they had before the war. They no longer have the manpower or money to oppress us. We are rising up. They did not ever wish well for our country. We have been deceived and we will not be treated like scum anymore. This is open rebellion.
We are on the verge of being split into two countries. What was the subcontinent of India will soon be divided into Pakistan and India. Jinnah has proposed this to the British, out of fear and prejudice. He wishes to create a state only for Muslims, and leave the Hindus in India. He is scared. He is cowardly. Afraid that Britain and Congress are going to push for a one-state solution, he has called for direct action. This struck down on us hard. Once one Muslim attacked a Hindu, the rest followed without hesitation. Within hours of Jinnah’s announcement, Hindus and Muslims were pitted against each other like bulls. Weapons like axes, swords, and various weapons were scavenged for. These were used on each other. People swung their weapons in a frenzy, regardless of if they were neighbors or friends. What was once a fine and healthy recognition of different beliefs is now a chasm, dividing Hindus and Muslims and setting them against each other.
My family is in danger. Every day we step out of the house, we risk being spontaneously attacked. My Muslim friends from school refuse to acknowledge me or talk to me. My family and I live in the eye of the riots. On the same street that I played with my Muslim friends when I was a child, Muslims shoot bolts of hatred and disgust every time my family and I walk by. We are afraid for our lives.
The family next door was raided last night. The Muslims ransacked their sacred home, pissed on the Vedas while yelling, “For Allah!” and threw the wife, Esha, and their daughter, Indira, over their shoulders while they struggled for dear life. The Muslim men raped them. I could hear them scream in pain through the night. Until I didn’t. A heavy silence settled in, and the crickets sang, commemorating the brave way that my friends and neighbors had left this world. Yama, the Hindu god of death, has taken them. Their ātman will surely be reborn into a better and more civilized time. Had I not seen what had happened, it would seem another peaceful night in Calcutta.
I barred my door with anything I could find. Wooden planks, metal bars were nailed up against the door, somehow resembling the havoc and mayhem that was our country. And we prayed on the other side. ‘Please let them believe we are not home. Please let them think we are dead.’ And we waited.
We saw the Muslims bang on the door of the house across from us, drunk on lustful hatred. They heard the women begging for dear life across the thinly barricaded door. They broke it down and charged in, disarray in their eyes. By that time, the women were already on the roof. They drenched themselves in gasoline and struck a match. The man of the household was shot multiple times. I watched as he begged for mercy in his last moments of life, and I watched as the Muslim men slowly slit his throat, watching as the blood spurted out of his neck. The blood slowly trickled to a halt, and it was over.
I need to keep my family safe. I am praying to all the gods that we will be spared from this madness. I pray that they will be able to snap out of their frenzied emotions and see this situation with logic. We are Indians, regardless of religion. We are one. As brothers and sisters, we should not be plunging swords into each other’s backs. We should be working together to help India through this unexpected and shocking change. But I know I am asking for too much. I usher my family upstairs. And I stay on the ground floor. I must do my best to hold them off, even if it gives my family just a few more minutes to find a way to escape.
So I fumble with the gun I have purchased. I run over the instructions the merchant told me. Load. Aim. Pull.
I hide behind the wall and I can hear them now. My hands shake and I prepare to sacrifice myself to save my beloved family. Oh, sweet wife- my beloved Neelam. Please forgive me for not being able to protect you from this madness. I have failed. I will do all I can. I will fight until every last drop of blood is drained out of me. I will fight for you one last time.
