August is the time when anyone who has any interest in the history, politics, and society of South Asia will be talking, tweeting, and sharing about the time of Partition/Independence. Here in the UK, I have noticed how much discussion about Partition has entered the public discourse, whether it is TV, radio, newspapers etc. In this essay, recently published in The Oral History Review, I have attempted to show how the historiography of Partition has developed, especially over the past twenty-five years. It is an attempt to contextualise and understand how this field of Partition Studies has evolved and what role technology, new forms of social media and the South Asian diaspora, have played in taking this field into new directions. I was keen to highlight the disparities, and structural inequalities that have been produced and strengthened in this process, despite appearances to the contrary.
As a side-note and not completely unrelated to the article, access to information/knowledge must not be taken for granted as there are institutional and economic barriers, which prevent a level-playing field. This article is NOT open access because 1) my post-92 university in the UK does not subscribe to the costly Gold Open Access scheme, and 2) the article was not written with the support of any UKRI research grant. It means that my article will remain behind a paywall, unless an institution subscribes to the journal. Again, many institutions are now cutting back to save money (esp. post-92 universities) and so subscriptions to costly academic journals are often subject to scrutiny of disciplinary demands and budgetary considerations. It is likely that this article will only reach a limited number of people compared with any open access article, thus the readership, citations and engagement will remain confined.
If you have institutional access that’s great, if you don’t and you are interested in reading the full article, please feel free to contact me.
In 2001, I crossed the Wagah-Attari border for the first time. Since then, I have used this official land crossing between India and Pakistan numerous times, in the process seeing the border undergo multiple changes. It used to be the Grand Trunk Road split in half, with a few meters of “no man’s land” to separate them. I could literally walk from one side to the other, while remaining on the GT Road. Then, the authorities decided to uplift, gentrify, and replace the colonial bungalows. Gone was the quaint and informal space with scattered flower beds and plants and in came the flashy buildings, followed by the airport style security, customs, and immigration; culminating eventually in the hideous and expensive battle for who can hoist the largest flag and keep it flying high!
To be fair, the development of the check post at Wagah-Attari was probably a response to the expectation that relations between the two countries would improve, and with that the foot traffic would increase. The bungalows were not equipped to deal with high volumes of people. Hence, they first established the goods/transit depot on one side of the border, so as to divert the trucks carrying the items of import/export. This separated the trade traffic from the people traffic. Whilst the establishment of a goods depot offered signs of improved trade between the two countries, even this was subject to cordial relations.
With numerous crossings since then, I have seen the border change, not just physically but also its ambience and vibes that the place gives. Indeed, the new buildings and transit buses which take passengers from one side to other have functioned to create further distance between the lines of control. These were not there previously, and the cool formality evokes the illusion of being remote and separate. Borders do not have to be harsh and austere.
These moments and emotions are difficult to capture on camera, but they can be felt when encountering the staff and officials. When I first crossed the border, I had the compact Canon Sure Shot AF-7, which was a popular model in the 1990s and gifted to me. I enjoyed taking photographs, but cameras were not cheap then, and the 35mm film was expensive too, both to buy and to develop, so photos were taken sparingly. When I embarked on my doctoral research, taking my camera was essential for my trips to India and Pakistan, as it was an instrument to visually document my journey. I would normally pack 1-3 rolls of ISO 200 (sometimes also ISO 400) speed film, usually 36 EXP, good for general photographs. But one was never entirely sure until the film was taken back home, handed in for developing, which then produced the joy of physically going through the photographs a week later! Time had passed between undergoing the actual trip and now feeling those photographs in my hands, and the images allowed me to recreate and relive those moments again.
Today everything is instant. In a moment I can be taking a photograph at the border, and then share it with the wider public around the world via social media. The only caveat here is that, generally the phone signals are non-existent within 1-2 kilometres of the border area, so you would probably need to wait until you were able to pick up the phone signal. More importantly, this also disrupted any arrangements one had made to meet people on the other side. If I was crossing the border, I might contact my friends/family beforehand and say, I’m crossing at X time (keeping in mind the 30 minutes times difference between the two countries), so I estimate that I will be out at Y time (usually 60 minutes from one side to the other). But if things didn’t go to plan, there is no way of contacting the person to alert them of the delays. And when you did finally make it to the other side, there were always a small number of people anxiously waiting and looking to see when their friends/family will pass through those doors.
There are many other stories of this rather strange and intriguing no man’s land but to end with a more positive story, I share a picture of a dhaba at Attari, Mittra da dhaba (literal translation – friends’ roadside restaurant) is located close to the entrance to check post, catering to travellers and tourists who come for the daily lowering of the flag ceremony. I have gone there many times, but on one occasion in 2017, I asked the owner to pack some food for me, food which I planned to take across the border and share with my friends in Lahore. He took great care to make it extra special and pack the food tightly, so that it wouldn’t spill. I could see that it also brought him great joy to know that his food would travel to the other side. As we parted, he said come back and tell me if they enjoyed it!
Alas, these stories are in the past tense, and with Covid the border faced further restrictions and closures. I have no idea if my friend is still there, I hope so. We need more friends in these otherwise hostile spaces.
Recently I noticed in several social media forums that people have been sharing details of Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain and her short story, Sultana’s Dream (1905). This story was originally published in The Indian Ladies’ Magazine, Madras, 1905, in English and translated by the author into Bengali. The story takes the form of a dream, set in a futuristic feministic world, in which women through education, opportunity and their innovative ability to use technology have been able to flourish. The science and technology featured in the story is not far off the realities of today and shows immense foresight by the imagination of the author.
The story also highlights how unjust it was, and still is, to deny women education and freedoms, which men have. The imagined place is a generous, green, and friendly environment, in which feminist science has created a space for everyone to thrive and reap the benefits. Although the story was published over a hundred years ago, we are still far from this utopian land.
Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain was born circ. 1880 to an orthodox Bengali Muslim upper-class family in the small village of Pairaband (district Rangpur in Bengal Presidency and present-day Bangladesh). Her father insisted that she learn only Arabic and remain in strict purdah. But with the assistance of her siblings, she learned to read and write Bangla and English. In 1896 her older brother Ibrahim Saber sought to arrange her marriage to a widower in his late 30s. Syed Sakhawat Hossain was the district magistrate in the Bihar region of Bengal Presidency and Ibrahim thought Rokeya would do well under Syed’s open-minded attitude, who had received education in both Bengal and London.
“Rokeya and her husband settled in Bhagalpur, Bihar. None of her children lived. Syed, who was convinced that the education of women was the best way to cure the ills of his society, encouraged his willing wife to write, and set aside 10,000 rupees to start a school for Muslim women.”
After 11 years of marriage, Syed passed away in 1909, leaving Rokeya alone. Soon thereafter she opened a school in Bhagalpur. Later, she moved to Calcutta where she re-opened the Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School on March 16, 1911. The number of students went from 8 in 1911 to 84 in 1915.
The pioneering concept behind Sultana’s Dream has inevitably inspired other writers and artists to take their cue from a world in which women have the power and men are the submissive other. Aurat Raj, a 1979 Pakistani film, which on the surface appears to be inspired by Rokeya’s work, is also a commentary on the military (and masculine) regime that had come into power, under General Zia. Aurat Raj, is a strange and kitsch interpretation, at whose heart is a social message, centred on exposing the oppression of women. But when the roles are reversed, the women behave in a similar fashion too, unlike Hossain’s short story.
Source: Cinema and Society edited by Ali Khan & Ali Nobil Ahmad (OUP, 2016)
The poster for the film Aurat Raj is equally intriguing as the film itself. It “depicts a woman dressed in a tight-fitting suit and long boots with a crown on her head and a whip in hand, all the more intriguing. She has a commanding, imperious expression on her face. To her right another woman in men’s clothes brandishes a gun. A third woman confidently smokes a cigarette. At the feet of the ‘Empress’ a series of men, including Sultan Rahi, are dressed in women’s clothes. Rahi demurely wears a dupatta on his head, his expression one of effeminate alarm. A subversive and experimental drag movie directed by Rangeela, who had appeared in scores of films in side-comic roles usually playing to the front benchers, Aurat Raj is perhaps Pakistan’s only satire to date and it lampoons not only the naked chauvinism that prevails in Pakistani society but also pokes fun at the way that this attitude pervades the industry. The film targets the machismo of Pakistani men and revels in inverting the gender and power roles, making the women literally wear the pants and leaving the men, including Sultan Rahi and Waheed Murad, wearing frilly frocks and helpless expressions.” Ali Khan, “Film Poster: Reflections of Change in the Pakistani Film Industry” in Cinema and Society: Film and Social Change in Pakistan, edited by Ali Khan & Ali Nobil Ahmad (OUP, 2016), P251.
Despite its well-known star cast of Waheed Murad, Rani, Rangeela and Sultan Rahi, the film was a commercial flop. However, it is certainly worth revisiting, if only as a reminder of the subversive message of the film, which dreams of a more equal society.
Amrita Pritam (1919-2005) was one the most distinguished Punjabi poets and fiction writers. She was born in Mandi Bahauddin, Punjab and was living in Lahore when in 1947 she, along with the millions others, was forced to migrate during the partition of the Punjab.
Her first collection of poems Amrit Lehrcm was published in 1936 when she was barely 17 years old. Starting as a romantic poet, she matured into a poetess of revolutionary ideas as a result of her involvement with the Progressive Movement in literature.
Ajj Aakhaan Waris Shah Nu (Today I Say unto Waris Shah) is a heartrending poem written during the riot-torn days that followed the partition of the country. (Apnaorg.com). The poem is addressed to Waris Shah, (1706 -1798), a Punjabi poet, best-known for his seminal work Heer Ranjha, based on the traditional folk tale of Heer and her lover Ranjha. Heer is considered one of the quintessential works of classical Punjabi literature.
Her body of work comprised over 100 books of poetry, fiction, biographies, essays, a collection of Punjabi folk songs and an autobiography that were all translated into several Indian and foreign languages
Ajj Aakhaan Waris Shah Nu (Today I Say unto Waris Shah – Ode to Waris Shah)
Translation from the original in Punjabi by Khushwant Singh. Amrita Pritam: Selected Poems. Ed Khushwant Singh. (Bharatiya Jnanpith Publication, 1992)
To Waris Shah I turn today!
Speak up from the graves midst which you lie!
In our book of love, turn the next leaf.
When one daughter of the Punjab did cry
You filled pages with songs of lamentation,
Today a hundred daughters cry
0 Waris to speak to you.
O friend of the sorrowing, rise and see your Punjab
Corpses are strewn on the pasture,
Blood runs in the Chenab.
Some hand hath mixed poison in our live rivers
The rivers in turn had irrigated the land.
From the rich land have sprouted venomous weeds
flow high the red has spread
How much the curse has bled!
The poisoned air blew into every wood
And turned the flute bamboo into snakes
They first stung the charmers who lost their antidotes
Then stung all that came their way
Their lips were bit, fangs everywhere.
The poison spread to all the lines
All of the Punjab turned blue.
Song was crushed in every throat;
Every spinning wheel’s thread was snapped;
Friends parted from one another;
The hum of spinning wheels fell silent.
All boats lost the moorings
And float rudderless on the stream
The swings on the peepuls’ branches
I lave crashed with the peepul tree.
Where the windpipe trilled songs of love
That flute has been lost
Ranjah and his brothers have lost their art.
Blood keeps falling upon the earth
Oozing out drop by drop from graves.
The queens of love
Weep in tombs.
It seems all people have become Qaidos,
Thieves of beauty and love
Where should I search out
Another Waris Shah.
Waris Shah
Open your grave;
Write a new page
In the book of love.
NOTES
Waris Shah (1706 -1798) was a Punjabi poet, best-known for his seminal work Heer Ranjha, based on the traditional folk tale of Heer and her lover Ranjha. Heer is considered one of the quintessential works of classical Punjabi literature.
Qaido – A maternal uncle of Heer in Heer Ranjha is the villain who betrays the lovers.
The Punjab – the region of the five rivers east of Indus: Jhelum, Chenab, Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej.
I came across this fascinating article on ‘The Origin and Growth of Pakistan Railways’ by M. B. K. Malik in Pakistan Quarterly, 1962, Vol 11, No. 1. It provides a brief history of building the railways in British India, especially the motivations and impact this had on the two outer regions of Bengal and Punjab. What captured my interest was actually the objections put forward in the initial days. The first one is from the British perspective, but the second one is from a high-caste Hindu, who obviously envisages multiple problems for those guided by astrologers. Both however, express suspicion and concern at this new system of transport and the wider impact it will have on society and the environment. Of course the railways went on to be built in both Britain and British India, and became pivotal to colonial rule. The economy of empire, with key towns and port cities, coupled with the ability to swiftly move the colonial army from cantonment towns was only made possible because of the railways in British India. But that’s another story. Read below the extract from pages 22-23.
Pakistan Quarterly, 1962, 11, 1, Page 23
The earliest proposals to build railways in India had been made to the East India Company in England in 1844 by Mr. R. M. Stephenson and others. But the time was not propitious. The land had not yet recovered from the effects of the Sind Wars, and the British power and the Sikhs in the Punjab were on the verge of an armed conflict. Nor were the Court of Directors of the East India Company convinced of the feasibility of railways in India. Even in England and Europe railways had met with opposition. In 1835 John Bull had denounced the railways as a menace:
“If they succeed” wrote the paper, “they will give an unnatural impetus to society, destroy all the relations which exist between man and man, over-throw all mercantile regulations, over-turn the metropolitan markets, drain the provinces of all their resources, and create at the peril of life, all sorts of confusion and distress. If they fail, nothing will be left but the hideous memorials of public folly”. It further remarked : “Does anybody mean to say that decent people …. would consent to be hurried along through the air upon a railroad, from which, had a lazy schoolboy left a marble, or wicked one a stone, they would be pitched off their perilous track into the valley beneath; …. being at the mercy of a tin pipe copper boiler, or the accidental dropping of a pebble on the line of way?…. We denounce the mania as destructive of the country in a thousand particulars …. the whole face of the kingdom is to be tattooed with these or a odious deformities …. huge mounds are to intersect our beautiful valleys; the noise and stench of locomotive steam-engines are to disturb the quietude of the peasant, the farmer and the gentleman; and the roaring of the bullocks, the bleating of sheep and the grunting of pigs to keep up one continual uproar through the night along the lines of these most dangerous and disfiguring abominations”.
Objections by Hindus The orthodox Indians had religious objections. A civilian District Officer, posted in the province of Bihar during the sixties of the last century, has recorded an interesting story showing how orthodox Hindus regarded railway travelling in those days. The officer questioned a nobleman, who had just returned from his first journey by rail, about his views on railway travel. The nobleman replied that it made great noise and that it would be difficult for persons of his high caste to travel at all by such means:
The trains only go at stated times; now I cannot commence a journey except at the minute decided upon by my astrologer as a favourable moment for starting. This makes it very difficult for me to travel at all. Tomorrow I have to go to Muzafferpur, and the astrologer has decided that I must start at 1 A.M. Now my cousin Gadahur went by railway the other day with his wife, and daughter of six years old, and a baby. He started at an unfavourable moment. His wife and two children and a maid-servant were put in a palanquin, which was placed on a truck, which prevented their being seen; and he went in an ordinary carriage. Somehow or other a spark from the engine flew into the palanquin and set fire to some of the linen in which the baby was wrapped; and the servant in her confusion, thinking it was only a bundle of clothes, threw it out. The moment it was done she found out the mistake and they all shrieked. This was only a mile from the Patna station and the train soon stopped. The station master was very kind and did his best, but the palanquin was on fire, and the wife in getting out was seen by many persons. It is not a fit subject even for conversation”.
But all the objections came to naught. England was just entering the age of ‘railway mania’ and it was decided to construct railways in India through Guaranteed British Companies.
Guru Ravidas was a mystic poet-sant and belonged to the reformist Bhakti movement. Thought to have been born circ. 1450 CE and a contemporary of Guru Nanak (founder of the Sikh faith); some scholars think the two even met. He is revered as a Guru/Bhagat/Sant and is well-known and respected as a social reformer who was keen to see the erasure of caste and gender inequalities. He was born a Chamar (untouchable/dalit) and his fight against social oppression has elevated him as an icon for the Dalit community in contemporary society. His devotional versus are also included in the Guru Granth Sahib but his influence is wide-ranging, spanning across much of northern and central India.
I tired hard to find an English translation of ‘Guru Ravidas’ by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan but so far I haven’t been successful. It was recorded under the Oriental Star Agency label, circ. 1992 If anyone knows of a translation, please do share it because I think the lyrics, sentiments are just heart rendering. They deserve a much wider audience. While I can follow most of the qawwali myself, I am not able to translate it and do justice to the lyrics. Two lines near the end provide a good sense of the what is being conveyed. The translation is difficult because the word “prayer” does not capture the sentiment sufficiently, because Pooja is performed by Hindus, paath is associated with Sikhs and the azaan with Muslims. There is no direct translation.
na pooja paath azaanan vich (the Lord does not reside in the prayer [of Hindus, Sikhs, Muslim]) rabb wasda e insaanan vich (the Lord resides in humanity)
It is sentiments like these that make Nusrat completely transnational and appealing to people across all faiths.
ravidaas bhagwaan da roop laike aaya jag de dukh niwaarne nu gote khaandi sansaar di aap bedi bhawsaagar ton paar utaarne nu unch neech da fark mitaun khaatir ravidas insaaf da pakad daaman kasam rabb di rabb da roop laike aaya satgur sach satkaarne nu
ravidas guru ravidas guru ravidas guru ravidas guru
dukhiyan di sunne ardaas guru kar sab di poori ardaas guru ravidas guru ravidas guru
kite raajeyan anni paayi si har paase machi duhayi si kite kambdi payi khudayi si kite jaan laban te aayi si insaan si dushman insaan da har dil vich peerh sawaayi si panditan di puththiyan reetan ne sagon hor chavati naayi si oh daur si zaalim kehran da mee wareya pyasi zehran da amrit baani naal jadon si sab di bujhaayi pyas guru ravidas guru ravidas guru
eh raaja ki te parja ki hath bandi wala darja ki eh mandir ki te masjid ki eh puja ki te sharda ki bhala es khuda di dharti te bandeyan da jhutha kabja ki sabb os khuda de bande ne eh wadda ki te chchota ki eh dharm karam da jhagda ki eh deen dharam da jhagda ki hai raazik sabhda oh khaalik nukta samjhaaya khaas guru ravidas guru ravidas guru
us daur di ajab kahaani si har paase daur shaitaani si haq sach te kalme di kidre na kadar kise ne jaani si sab kojiyan bharman di ravidas ne ramz pachchani si harbhajan dillan vich dard bade koi meera sur di rani si oh rahbar kaamal akmal si dil andar naal koi wal chchal si inj hoka de sacheyayi da sab kite kaaraj raas guru ravidas guru ravidas guru
gaya murshid kaamil ki aakhan os swarg bana ke duniya nu bedaar banake duniya nu gulzaar banake duniya nu paigaam sunake amlan da gaflat chon jaga ke duniya nu ujdi hoyi sunji dharti te khud aap wasa ke duniya nu na pooja paath azaanan vich rabb wasda e insaanan vich chauhaan khuda nu yaad karo oh har dam wasda paas guru ravidas guru ravidas guru
Yesterday morning started with a few tweets that I saw regarding the new Single National Curriculum being introduced in Pakistan. It has generated plenty of discussion and criticism, and rightfully so. The pictures and discussion in these tweets immediately took me back to the day before, when I was in fact going through the pages of Pakistan Quarterly, from the 1950s. I’ve been looking at the formative years of Pakistan and the role played by women, which is far too often side-lined or a footnote in support of the main body.
Below are extracts from two articles, which illustrate some of the discussions that were taking place on the importance of education in the making of a “new Pakistan” and the role of religion (especially girl’s education). Julian Duguid was a journalist, writer and wrote his article while posted in Pakistan. The second article though is by the Vice-Chancellor of Peshawar University, Raziuddin Siddiqi. Dr Siddiqi was born in 1908 and educated in the newly established Osmania University, Hyderabad. Indeed, he was from the first batch that graduated from there and later went on to serve as the Vice-Chancellor of Osmania. In 1950, however, Dr Siddiqi migrated to Karachi and joined Karachi University, at the request of the Government of Pakistan. There was a serious skills shortage in Pakistan following the Partition, and the development of educational institutions and an educated workforce was key to future prosperity.
Lifting of the Veil by Julian Duguid
Pakistan Quarterly, Vol. 2, No. 3, 1952
After hearing the story of the chaos, so bravely met and overcome, I watched with a special interest the young girl students whom it freed. A few still went in burqas, but most of them walked and bicycled as if they’d never heard of purdah. At lunch time, they passed Zam-Zammah, the gun on which Kim used to sit; and in the evenings they did athletics or played tennis. There was nothing whatever to distinguish them from any other healthy young students. Yet, even four years ago, many of them could hardly have dreamt of such freedom.
Of course, liberation on this scale has not gone quite uncriticised. Now and then, a fanatical old mullah, his beard abristle with zeal, will creep behind a girl and cut her hair off to teach her not to be shameless. When this happens, he is taken to the police-station and lectured on the new Pakistan and kept in jail for a few days to cool his ardour. He leaves unconvinced, and muttering; but his generation will pass, and then the veil will be lifted more and more widely among the middle-class city-dwellers as it is among the labouring village people whether in town or country.
It may take many years, but it will come.
Education in Pakistan by Raziuddin Siddiqi, Vice-Chancellor, Peshawar University.
Pakistan Quarterly, Vol. 3, No. 4, 1953.
Immediate steps were, therefore, taken in all Provinces to rehabilitate the old schools and Colleges and establish new ones. Classes were held in several shifts to cope with the enormous increase of students. Adequate measures were adopted for training school teachers in large numbers. Education was given high priority along with defence and law and order in the Central and Provincial budgets. A number of new Universities were established in order to provide suitable teachers for the schools and colleges. Educational materials, such as books, journals and scientific equipment, was imported in a large quantity from Europe and America. Young men and women were sent in considerable numbers for training abroad. A six years Plan was formulated to give effect to considered policy of all-round educational development.
It would not be out of place to give here a short account of our policy in this scheme of educational development. The fundamental aim before the authorities in this matter has been ensure to that each and every individual gets the best and highest education and training commensurate with his capabilities. Islam lays down the acquisition of knowledge as an integral part of the duties of every individual Muslim of either sex. It is a unique and distinguishing feature of this religion, which enjoins its followers to think and know for themselves. It has been explicitly stated in the Holy Quran that “God exalteth and elevates to higher ranks only those who are believers, and who have been accorded knowledge”.
Islam does not allow the sharp division of an individual’s existence into a religious and secular life, as believed necessary by the people following other religions. There is no priest-class among the Muslims. Non-observance of this essential principle of Islam, has been one of the main factors in the deterioration of our condition in the past. On the one hand the general body of Muslims were educated in secular schools, and knew very little of the fundamental principles of their religion. For even a little bit of information about their faith, they were entirely at the mercy of the ‘Mullas’. On the other hand, the ‘Mullas’ studied in religious institutions which were completely divorced from all modern knowledge. This was affecting adversely the national life at both ends. The educated young Muslims were generally absorbing atheistic or agnostic tendencies more and more, and instead of proving a source of strength to the community, were undermining its very existence. The ‘Mullas’ were becoming more and more ignorant, fanatic and narrow minded, thus bringing the religion itself into disrepute and contempt.
It was necessary, therefore, to evolve a new system of education, or rather to revive the older system of the early days of Islam in which all knowledge was one, and there was no artificial distinction between religious and non-religious knowledge.
For the seventh issue of Chapati Mystery Roundtable (CMRT), we are delighted to host a conversation on Pippa Virdee’s From the Ashes of 1947: Reimagining Punjab. The CMRT is a series that presents multiple, in-depth reviews of an exciting new book. We thank each of our distinguished panelists for engaging in this public dialogue. We especially thank Abraham Akhter Murad for convening and introducing this Round Table.
BAGICHA 