THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

"Kissi ne punja paaniyan vich ditta zehar mila,

 Te aunaan paaniyan ditta dharti nu ditta paani laa"

It was as if the five rivers of Punjab, its source of life, were mixed with the venomous poison of religion.
That same water was then used to irrigate the Earth and hence, the Earth was poisoned with the colour of bloodshed (Translated)

- Amrita Pritam, on the state of Punjab at the time of Partition.

Our view of the Partition is, at the most, sketchy. We were not present there and we did not witness the brutality. Our memories aren't the ones tarnished with the images of the debauchery. Our little knowledge comes from the various texts, movies and reminiscence we have come across, 67 years into the massacre.

It was a time of loss. Loss of love, life and land. Loss of belonging and that of humanity. We, at present, cannot begin to fathom the grief and bereavement that must have engulfed the living beings at the time.

Normalities of everyday life were uprooted, as were the homes and families. People; men, women, infants alike; were driven to the streets with three clothes, no food, nor shelter. It was a hard struggle, which some survived and others succumbed to. It wasn't just a division of two countries, religions or communities, it was a division of hearts and minds as well.

To conclude, I cannot begin to comprehend the harrowing experiences lived and those that continue to haunt those who survived. Such, was the violence of Partition that the scars are still alive.

WHAT WE LEFT BEHIND

For what are feelings but an array of snippets etched in memory...

It rains outside. Yes, it rains. The leaves awash, the roads a muck and over flowing sewers. But, it rains. Buildings flood, cars shut down, activity comes to a halt. And yet, it rains.
I look at it through those huge glass panes that adorn the wall next to me. Bringing back memories, of times long gone, of times just lived, of times forgotten and of times yet to come; all this while, it rains.

Glum bored and lifeless. The craziness seeming a world apart, a long forgotten past. The weather mocks my mood. The joyous rain splashes against the glass, the clouds roar and growl with their unleashed powers, the plants dance in their happiness.

Once, in a different world, I'd have danced along with the greens, played and splashed in the puddles of heavenly waters, content in the ecstatic thinking of the times. We were young, we were happy; oh! so happy, we were a few years away from the torment(ous) reality, a few months away and a few days away.
Its in these times that memories open their floodgates, flow in their unrestricted state into a mind soaked and strained.