Hey Ram...
Finally, am able to write this piece after a long hiatus....mainly delayed due to my persistence to wait till I get my new notebook. My ThinkPad has arrived and theres no more excuses to prolong this further,so here it goes....
Foreword:
The full credit to the (short) story goes to my wonderful grandfather, who penned this story during the times of freedom struggle of India and got it published in a national newspaper! Am just rephrasing this story in my own words with some modifications to the original story. Am dedicating this to my lovely grandpa and grandma.
Disclaimer:
All characters in this story are fictional and any resemblance is a mere coincidence :)
The Village:
It was the night of august 1947 when India was being given, or rather has been fought for, the much deserved freedom after almost 350 years. Gandhiji , armed with the weapons of non-violence and non-cooperation was able to convince Indians to finally unite against the colonial rule. Miraculously the system worked and Britons were forced to quit. It was the time for celebration, the home coming of many great heroes who fought for the country, lived and died for it. A young but ambitious secular India was born.
Though India was able to successfully vanquish their external foes it wasn't able to stay united, the only force which was the sole reason of its freedom. There was a growing unrest among two major religions of the society, the hindus and the muslims. The slogan of "Hindu Muslim Bhai Bhai" (hindus and muslims are brothers), the driving force behind the freedom movement, was no longer seen as valid. Disruptive forces within the country demanded for a separate country for the Indian Muslims. Unfortunately, the top brass of the Indian leaders decided to partition India into India and Pakistan and the worst nightmare began.
A village on the eastern border of India was witnessing the pain of the partition. The villagers were an equal mix of hindus and muslims living together peacfully. They never dreamt that they would be separated by fate and miss their dearest friends. For them, religion didn't hold any water....atleast till the partition movement. Rumours were spreading in the village that a train carrying hindus from pakistan was burnt by the muslims. Hearing this, the hindus of the village seethed with anger and were seeking revenge. Rumours were again spreading in the village that, some muslims were attacked by un-identified youth while they were returning from mosques after their daily prayers. No one knew the truth, all were rumours, but no one cared! The situation was going out of control.
On this particular night, the atmosphere was particularly tensed. The dead bodies of Amir and Ravi were found floating on the lake in the night. The bodies were sent to the respective families for the final ceremonies. Both the bodies were terribly bruised as if beaten to death by someone. There were no visible marks of any weapons but the bodies were mangled. The muslims of Amir's community blamed the hindus of brutally killing their son. Nobody saw a hindu attacking Amir but again no one wanted a reason (the truth being, both Amir and Ravi were secret friends playing near the lake when both of them accidentally drowned in the water. The bruises on their body were the courtesy of the fish and reptiles in the lake). It was decided that they would kill any hindu spotted on the streets tonight. They wielded the butcher's knives and ran amuck in the streets like mad men. Soon, the hindus came to know that their people were being attacked in streets by muslims and they weilded their own weapons. A riot ensured in the peace loving village and blood flowed like water in the streets. The red of the blood defied the black of the night.
A young girl was coming back from her friend's place on this fateful night oblivious of the blood shed going on. On her way home, she saw dead bodies on the side of the roads and was scared to death. She could see a few people with daggers running towards her shouting "Maaro Maaro" (Kill her, Kill her). She didn't know if the people were hindus or muslims, she didn't care. She just wanted to stay alive for the night and started running towards a dilapidated house with no lights. The house was empty and start dark, so she went inside and hid behind a cupboard. The people saw her movements, and came running towards the house. They called her to come out of the house or they would burn the house. The girl didnt budge, she knew she would be killed if she came out. She stayed put. These people were the relatives of Ravi and were in no mood to let any muslims stay alive tonight. They didn't know how many people were inside the dark house and hence didn't dare to go inside. They poured kerosene all over the house and summoned the gal one last time, "Bahaar aajao warna ghar jalaa denge" (Come out or we will burn the house). The gal was frigthened to death to move. She stayed behind the cupboard. With no response, Ravi's relatives lit the house and started to run away. As they began to turn round the corner they froze on hearing the dying girl's final scream reverberated in the air, her final prayer to her god,"Hey Ram......." .
Foreword:
The full credit to the (short) story goes to my wonderful grandfather, who penned this story during the times of freedom struggle of India and got it published in a national newspaper! Am just rephrasing this story in my own words with some modifications to the original story. Am dedicating this to my lovely grandpa and grandma.
Disclaimer:
All characters in this story are fictional and any resemblance is a mere coincidence :)
The Village:
It was the night of august 1947 when India was being given, or rather has been fought for, the much deserved freedom after almost 350 years. Gandhiji , armed with the weapons of non-violence and non-cooperation was able to convince Indians to finally unite against the colonial rule. Miraculously the system worked and Britons were forced to quit. It was the time for celebration, the home coming of many great heroes who fought for the country, lived and died for it. A young but ambitious secular India was born.
Though India was able to successfully vanquish their external foes it wasn't able to stay united, the only force which was the sole reason of its freedom. There was a growing unrest among two major religions of the society, the hindus and the muslims. The slogan of "Hindu Muslim Bhai Bhai" (hindus and muslims are brothers), the driving force behind the freedom movement, was no longer seen as valid. Disruptive forces within the country demanded for a separate country for the Indian Muslims. Unfortunately, the top brass of the Indian leaders decided to partition India into India and Pakistan and the worst nightmare began.
A village on the eastern border of India was witnessing the pain of the partition. The villagers were an equal mix of hindus and muslims living together peacfully. They never dreamt that they would be separated by fate and miss their dearest friends. For them, religion didn't hold any water....atleast till the partition movement. Rumours were spreading in the village that a train carrying hindus from pakistan was burnt by the muslims. Hearing this, the hindus of the village seethed with anger and were seeking revenge. Rumours were again spreading in the village that, some muslims were attacked by un-identified youth while they were returning from mosques after their daily prayers. No one knew the truth, all were rumours, but no one cared! The situation was going out of control.
On this particular night, the atmosphere was particularly tensed. The dead bodies of Amir and Ravi were found floating on the lake in the night. The bodies were sent to the respective families for the final ceremonies. Both the bodies were terribly bruised as if beaten to death by someone. There were no visible marks of any weapons but the bodies were mangled. The muslims of Amir's community blamed the hindus of brutally killing their son. Nobody saw a hindu attacking Amir but again no one wanted a reason (the truth being, both Amir and Ravi were secret friends playing near the lake when both of them accidentally drowned in the water. The bruises on their body were the courtesy of the fish and reptiles in the lake). It was decided that they would kill any hindu spotted on the streets tonight. They wielded the butcher's knives and ran amuck in the streets like mad men. Soon, the hindus came to know that their people were being attacked in streets by muslims and they weilded their own weapons. A riot ensured in the peace loving village and blood flowed like water in the streets. The red of the blood defied the black of the night.
A young girl was coming back from her friend's place on this fateful night oblivious of the blood shed going on. On her way home, she saw dead bodies on the side of the roads and was scared to death. She could see a few people with daggers running towards her shouting "Maaro Maaro" (Kill her, Kill her). She didn't know if the people were hindus or muslims, she didn't care. She just wanted to stay alive for the night and started running towards a dilapidated house with no lights. The house was empty and start dark, so she went inside and hid behind a cupboard. The people saw her movements, and came running towards the house. They called her to come out of the house or they would burn the house. The girl didnt budge, she knew she would be killed if she came out. She stayed put. These people were the relatives of Ravi and were in no mood to let any muslims stay alive tonight. They didn't know how many people were inside the dark house and hence didn't dare to go inside. They poured kerosene all over the house and summoned the gal one last time, "Bahaar aajao warna ghar jalaa denge" (Come out or we will burn the house). The gal was frigthened to death to move. She stayed behind the cupboard. With no response, Ravi's relatives lit the house and started to run away. As they began to turn round the corner they froze on hearing the dying girl's final scream reverberated in the air, her final prayer to her god,"Hey Ram......." .
