Sudershana Kumari, an 8-year-old Hindu girl who witnessed a

massacre in her home town in Pakistan

Even as a girl, Sudershana Kumari’s survival instincts were sharp
enough to know that staying quiet is sometimes the best option.
Crying out would have given away her hiding place — a rooftop in her
native town, Sheikhupura, where Kumari, her mother and dozens of
others lay, watching the carnage on the streets below. “We couldn’t show
our heads,” she said. “You show your head and you’re dead.”
Kumari’s family is Hindu; they were living in an area that would soon
become Muslim-dominated Pakistan. Families like hers would have to
flee.
So Kumari, now 78, did not make a sound. Not when she felt pangs in
her stomach after three days without food. Not even when she heard her
dog Tom barking for her.
From the holes in the roof, Kumari saw her uncle and his family being
killed by men with spears in the street. Her uncle was a tax collector who
had made the error of filling their suitcases with cash — unnecessary
weight that had kept his family from running fast enough, Kumari said.
“My aunt was wearing white trousers, I remember,” she says. “She was
crying, ‘Don’t kill my son, don’t kill my son.’ Then they took her daughter
from her. They took her, and they pierced the spear through her body.
She died like that, a 1-year-old girl.”
Kumari’s family scattered. Her town had been reduced to ash and
rubble. For days, she and her mother hid from rioters who were looking
for Hindus to kill and loot.
When armed men eventually found them, they were hiding in an attic
packed with about 300 others from the town.
The townspeople were ushered out to a playground, where the previous
day’s captives had been doused with oil and burned alive. Corpses lay
strewn across the streets. “One dead body here, one dead body there. All
people we know,” Kumari said. “There’s Khyaliram, there’s Baleddiram.”
Minutes before they were to be killed, a cease-fire was announced.
Trucks rolled into the village from the cities, with Tara Singh, a famous
political and religious leader known for his contributions to
independence struggles, shouting at rioters through a megaphone. Not
another drop of blood should be spilled, he was saying. They listened,
because they respected him.
Years later, Kumari had nothing left from those years besides a small box
she stole from her burning town, thinking it could be used for her dolls
to sleep in.

Hashim Zaidi, a Muslim whose family fled India for Pakistan,

fearing repercussions after an uncle killed a Hindu man

Hashim Zaidi’s Muslim family had

to flee India after his uncle, a police officer, killed a Hindu intruder in his home. Fearing retaliation,
his family boarded a train to Pakistan. Zaidi was 10 or 11 at the time. (Nisar Mehdi/For The
Washington Post)
If Hashim Zaidi and his family hadn’t left his native town of Allahabad in
India, the rioters would never have spared them.
His uncle, a Muslim police officer, had killed a Hindu rioter who was
trying to enter his house, he said.
Violent acts of vengeance had become commonplace in 1947. Zaidi’s
family was taking no chances. “We had no choice but to leave India for
Pakistan because of incessant attacks by rioters,” he said.
Only 10 or 11 years old at the time, Zaidi was taken to Pakistan on a
train. The carriages were marked to show which passengers were
carrying money or other objects of value, and which ones weren’t.
“They started it, and they murdered people to get their hands on money,”
he said. “People who have made it to Pakistan have given money in
exchange for their lives.”
“It was all about the loot and nothing to do with ideology,” he said.

Sarjit Singh Chowdhary, a Sikh soldier who helped Muslim

refugees reach safety in Pakistan
Sarjit Singh Chowdhary heard the news on the radio.
At the time, he was 2,000 miles away, serving as part of the British army
in Iraq. News that partition was imminent and that his family may be in
danger filled him with worry. He applied to be repatriated and was back
on Indian soil by September 1947. “When I had left, India was a peaceful
country,” he said. “When I came back, it was bloodshed.”
Killings had begun in March in his home town, Kahuta, in modern-day
Pakistan. Later he would discover that his mother had been attacked.
“My mother was a brave woman and knew how to fire a gun, so she was
able to defend herself. She managed to escape and bring my siblings over
to India,” he said.
As a 24-year-old soldier, Chowdhary was appointed to serve for
the Punjab police and put in charge of law and order amid the
unrelenting violence in the region. “I saw the body of a dead man being
thrown off a train,” he recalled. “Once, on my way from Delhi to
Jalandhar, we stopped at Doraha Canal and saw that the water had
become red with blood.”
The news reports from his home town disturbed him deeply. “In a village
just 12 kilometers from mine called Thoha Khalsa, women drowned
themselves to save their honor. When the army found them, their bodies
were swollen and had come up to the surface. That was the state at the
time. Men were shooting their own wives and daughters because they
feared what would happen if they were taken away by attackers,” he said.
Twice, he accompanied Muslim refugees across the border. “They had
gathered in their villages, tied up all their things onto bullock carts.
There were around 40 carts, a few hundred people,” he said. “They
wanted to get to Pakistan. They must have been sad to leave, but tell me,
if your life, your family’s life is in constant danger, wouldn’t you want to
get out?”

Mohammad Naeem, a Muslim boy who traveled to Pakistan on

the notoriously dangerous ‘blood trains’

Mohammad Naeem arrived in Lahore on a train from Agra, the city of

the Taj Mahal, where he was born.
When the riots started, his Muslim family no longer felt safe in Hindu-
majority India.
It was a dangerous journey. Many who traveled along the same route had
been killed; their bodies littered the tracks.
His father, who was separated from the family amid the riots, had to take
a ship from Mumbai.
He bought a ticket, even though others at the time were riding free.
When he disembarked in Karachi, people asked him why he had
bothered wasting the fare money. “He said: ‘I’m a cowardly man. I
bought the ticket so they don’t throw me overboard.’ ”

Reference: https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/asia-pacific/70-
years-later-survivors-recall-the-horrors-of-india-pakistan-
partition/2017/08/14/3b8c58e4-7de9-11e7-9026-
4a0a64977c92_story.html?noredirect=on&utm_term=.2740b8ebf631
Abdul Rehman

Currently Residing At: Faisalabad, Punjab, Pakistan

Age in 1947: 8
Migrated from Chabal Kalan, Punjab, India to Faisalabad, Punjab, Pakistan

Abdul Rehman, also known as “Manna,” was born in 1934 in Chhajpur

Kalan near Panipat. Young Mr. Rehman assisted his male family members
in cultivating their fields. He often visited local villages to participate in
festivals. Growing up, Mr. Rehman was much influenced by the wisdom of
his elder brother.

In 1947, announcement of a division of the land and of migration was made

via loudspeakers in his village. Mr. Rehman says that all residents were
helpful in assisting the migrating families. One day Mr. Rehman and his
brother were working in the fields when a man told them that surrounding
villages had been invaded and many were killed, including many Mr.
Rehman’s cousins. He said that the group was heading toward Chhajpur
Kalan. Mr. Rehman hid in a sugar cane field while his brother disguised
himself. When the invaders reached their field, the workers told the
invaders that there were no families left in the village, in order to deter
them. But when Mr. Rehman and his brother returned to their village, they
saw many dead in the streets. Homes were locked and shops were looted.
Mr. Rehman and his brother walked to the town of Chhajpur Khurd. The
families of the town escorted them to Noorwala where refugees had
gathered. He was informed in Noorwala that fifty members of his family had
been killed. After hearing this news, Mr. Rehman was unable to speak for a
time.

An army convoy took all refugees from village Noorwala to Panipat refugee
camp, where Mr. Rehman lived for one month. One day, Mr. Rehman along
with other refugees were put on a train to Amritsar. En route, they
encountered a fallen tree on the track. The army removed the tree and the
train continued on. Mr. Rehman and his family lived in Walton camp in
Lahore for one month and later moved to Sialkot. His family did not feel at
home in the new environment. They did not receive any land compensation
after Partition, and understanding the local language was difficult at first.

Mr. Rehman later moved to Daultala and continues to cultivate land there
today. Concluding, Mr. Rehman remarks that life was simple before
Partition.

Hakeem ud-Din

Currently Residing At: Rawalpindi, Punjab, Pakistan

Age in 1947: 13
Migrated from Panipat, Haryana, India to Rawalpindi, Punjab, Pakistan

Hakeem ud-Din, fondly called Ghappa, was born in 1934 in Har Singh
Pura, Panipat, Haryana. He assisted his family with agriculture and
farming. His father cultivated maize, wheat and other grains. He
remembers digging out the waterways for irrigation in his ancestral land
daily with his elder brother who was very strong and healthy. He says that
his family used camels for ploughing in the field. He lived in a large house
with dozens of rooms constructed where all families of his grandfather, his
cousins, and his uncles lived side by side. He says that community
relations were cooperative in the village.

When Partition was announced, violent incidents began to take place in the
town. Villagers started destroying properties. Some of his family members
were in his maternal village of Bichpari when an armed group arrived in Har
Singh Pura. Mr. ud-Din left the village in a hurry and reached a village
known as Nawab Garh, where he lived for 25 days along with his extended
family. He says that many people invaded the town and the village was
burnt to ashes. Approximately 50 people in his extended family were killed.
Mr. ud-Din was able to escape the violence by taking shelter in a forest
outside the village with relatives. In order to not be identified, he wore only
his underclothes while hiding in the forest. He went through the forest to
Faridpur Haryana, Chandoli and Bhainswal. He succeeded in joining his
parents and the rest of his family in Bichpari. Together they went to
Noorpur, Uttar Pradesh.

He says that he and his family managed to assist many girls who were in
the custody of invaders and helped the girls find families to travel with. Mr.
ud-Din, his family and other refugees gathered in Noorpur, and were
escorted by the army to Panipat and Karnal. Their caravan stayed at the
Karnal refugee camp. He saw many wounded refugees there. The next
day, his family crossed the border by train. The train passed Ludhiana and
Jalandhar railway stations safely, but it was not allowed to move further
from Amritsar. After waiting several hours, the train was allowed to depart.
The refugees were given food at the Lahore railway station. Mr. ud-Din
lived in the camp for 10 days. He recalls that daily rations were rice and a
few pieces of bread. He says that people were dying daily due to cholera.
After a few days, he along with the other fellow refugees were transferred
to Kahuta, Rawalpindi by train. They were given maize flour to make bread.

In Kahuta, his family did not feel completely settled, so they decided to
move to Daultala, Rawalpindi. There, his family found many houses that
had been vacated. Once they found a residence, Mr. ud-Din began working
as a laborer. Later, he received some land from the government. Today, he
lives with his whole family including grandchildren in Rawalpindi.
Kazi Shamsuzzaman

Currently Residing At: Dhaka, Bangladesh

Age in 1947: 15
Migrated from Howrah, West Bengal, India to Dhaka, Bangladesh

Kazi Shamsuzzaman was born in Jadavpur, British India. His family lived in
Howrah prior to partition. His father was a postal worker in Howrah. A
traumatic riot broke out in Howrah in 1946 called the Direct Action Day, and
eight people died. They lost everything. The house was looted and burnt to
ashes. The women fled with only their jewelry on them. While Mr.
Shamsuzzaman hid in a tree, his father hid in a graveyard. They came to
Dhaka penniless in 1947. They were often called “ghoti” and discriminated
as refugees in Dhaka. Mr. Shamsuzzaman completed his education there
and worked as an Insurance Agent. Later, he went back to Howrah to see
his birthplace. The house they owned is now owned by someone else.