Gouri Sharma and her uncle's loss in Lahore - CULTIVASIAN

I was the first son and child for my parents, Mathaji and Bowji. I was born in Lahore and brought up in a well to do area in the town, Ravi Road. Ravi road was very posh, there were many educated and high class people living there and my family had been in Lahore for at least three generations on both sides. I came from a very good and respected family. My maternal great grandfather was a moneylender and a priest, one of the most respected positions in society and his son, my grandfather was a lieutenant in the Indian army. My father's dad was a doctor and my father was working in the railways. Altogether there was me, my parents, my maternal grandparents and my paternal grandmother living together in the one house.

When we found out that Gandhi had signed the agreement to divide the country up I remember how angry everyone was. He had signed away the country and played straight into the hands of the British who wanted to divide and rule. My mum in particular was very bitter about that for many years. On the day we left Lahore, all I remember was panic. We didn't really have a choice in the matter, the army came in and told us that we had to leave as soon as possible before the British or the Muslims came. They either wanted us to convert or they would kill us. So we left everything and fled. My mum told me after that she left wearing only her petticoat because there was no time to get anything else.

We got on the train straight to Delhi where we were given homes by the government near Kashmiri Gate. But the trauma of partition was only starting to begin for my family. When we fled, we had to leave everything, house, mandir, clothes, jewellery, things that we had in our family for generations. The effect of this on my paternal grandmother was immense, she was so distraught that she cried so much and eventually lost her sight. We had also lost my other grandfather, the lieutenant, because he had been fighting in the army and we had no idea where he was, whether he was dead or alive, we heard nothing for six years. This made my grandmother angry but she was strong and opinionated. So while my grandfather was missing, she got into Indian politics and tried to help stabilise the country. She did her bit, but she also picked up drinking and smoking habits, which led to her developing lung cancer. The only consolation for her was that she had a short lived reunion with her husband, who we tracked down safe and sound a year or so before she passed away.

Things moved on after that. My sister was born, ironically in a housing shelter run by a Muslim family, and after a few years we were relocated to the railway quarters in South Delhi. We carried on with life because we had to but I know that for the elders in my family, it left huge emotional scarring that turned into bitterness and sadness that they were never able to get over. It didn't matter how much we had before partition because we lost everything. All we had were the memories of how it was when we were altogether.

Gouri Sharma is a journalist for Eastern Eye. Gouri11@gmail.com