Maybe my friend died...

Aditi Singh, FY BAMC

In the August of 1947, the British, after over three hundred years of colonization, finally ended their reign in the Indian subcontinent but left behind the bloodbath of partition. The land was divided into two self-governing independent Dominions: Hindu-majority India and Muslim-majority Pakistan. The creation of these two states witnessed what’s called the greatest migration in human history. The subcontinent grieved for the homes of 10 million people who were displaced and for the lives of 2 million people who were killed during the process. One in these millions was Mohan’s childhood friend Billu.

Mohan and Billu were kids in the 40s, raised together in a small village that came under the Bengal presidency. They were neighbors, friends and inseparable at all times. Be it running through the fields to reach their school under the shade of village’s biggest mango tree, swimming to catch fish in the pond or flying kites from rooftops, they had to do everything together. Their bond was strong and pure to the extent that people would swear they were siblings. However, they were growing up on a land, unaware of the fact that it was fighting a battle for its freedom and segregation, something that would turn their lives upside down overnight.

“There were broken pots and eerie silence. No trace of life. My friend was gone” said Mohan, now 85, who turned up at his friend’s house the night after an unprecedented outbreak of sectarian violence in their village and province. Billu and his family had to flee the village in the dark of the night to escape communal riots. Mohan was left not only devastated and frightened but also traumatized and grieving his friend for life. He just wanted to know if he would reunite with his best friend and if things would ever be the same again.

Time went by fast, and Mohan grew alongside a newborn nation, he moved onto bigger and better things in life. He took up the job that he wanted and surrounded himself with his loved ones throughout his life but still buried deep inside his heart was a flicker of hope that he might see his childhood friend again, he still had the 10-year Mohan in him who was looking out for a confirmation if his friend was out there somewhere. He went through his connections and tried reaching out as much as he possibly could but Billu wasn’t to be found across the border.

“Maybe my friend died. It was a carnage. It upsets me still,” said Mohan recalling the petrifying scenes of bloodshed and houses set to fire in his village. “Nothing remained the same. People and their houses were gone. I experienced loss in freedom, not gain. And I wasn’t the only one who had lost a friend.”

Punjab and Bengal, the provinces that shared borders with West and East Pakistan, respectively, were the epicenters of massacres, arsons, forced conversions and mass abductions. Millions of people like Mohan and Billu lost their families, friends and homes during partition.

After 75 years of Independence, Mohan is still waiting to know if Billu made it to the other side alive.