Translated from the Sindhi by Soni Wadhwa.


[The incidents of the Partition of 1947-48, especially the trauma and the indignity that the wives went through are too horrible to narrate. They make you shiver in fear and disgust.]

I used to run my Indus Glass Works in those days, which employed around twelve hundred workers. Before making the iron moulds for the bottles and other glass items, a wooden prototype used to be made, of which Darbara Singh was the in-charge. He got married to Tulsi in January 1947. The wives of the Punjabi men are anyway well known for their beauty, but Tulsi was simply ravishing. She was just coming of age and the juice of youth that she was oozing would make heads turn and eyeballs fall. Nature had sculpted her body to the point of impossible perfection.

She conceived within two months of her marriage. According to their customs, the wives go back to their parents' home to deliver the first child. Her parents were contractors in Loralai, near Koita and were based there with all their property. Darbara Singh went to drop Tulsi at their home around June or July. One month later, those horrid incidents began to take place. There Tulsi gave birth to a boy and here every house became a site of bloodbath. The Congress President Kriplani left for the Punjab to investigate everything. He reported that the Muslim goons were not only ransacking the property of the Hindus, but also dragging young Hindu women away. Many women had burned themselves alive, along with their children. Many jumped into the wells and rivers or chopped their heads off. The ones who could not end their lives lived to suffer unbearable pain, a life worse than death. Many were auctioned off – the men who bought them raped them and forced them into prostitution. The women lived in misery and desperation.

Such indignities spread to Balochistan too. Dr Choithram and others left to see these things happening for themselves. Dr Choithram cried, screaming loudly in anguish. It was one of the things that increased panic in Sindh, and people began to move.

It was at this time that Darbara Singh took my leave for eight days to go to Loralai. He was worried because he hadn't received any letters or telegrams or any kind of news from Tulsi and her family. He could neither sleep nor eat for three days. I let him go immediately, but never saw him after that day.

About five years later, I went to Badrinath. What I really wanted to see was the Valley of Flowers and the Devi temple on the Sapta Shringa, which is mentioned by Guru Gobind Singh in his memoir 'Resplendent Drama'. He writes that in his previous birth, he had meditated there and the Goddess had ordered him to be born again to protect the Hindus. About eleven miles to the north of Badrinath is the Pandukeshwar temple. I heard that because there were too many tourists visiting, there was no accommodation available anywhere. About half a mile farther, the Khalsas had set up a gurudwara because the road to the Valley of Flowers and the Sapta Shringa was just a boat ride away from there. People marched towards the gurudwara in hundreds only to discover that even the Khalsa tourists could not get in because the place was full already. Someone said, "There is no space here. One of the walls of the boarding area has even collapsed". The tourists began to wonder how they would spend the night in such a chilly weather.

I was surprised when I saw that one of the guards at the gates of the gurudwara came towards my coolie and took my luggage. I followed him into the gurudwara where he seated me in a beautiful room. I was wondering why he was being so nice to me. While I managed to relax, he got me some biscuits and said, "Sir! You do not recognise me but I'd worked for you for several years".

He was wearing a long kurta that covered him till his feet and an iron kada in his hair and around his wrist. His long beard hung till his navel and his dagger hung across his body. I couldn't place the Khalsa. After I looked at him very closely, I knew who he was. I said, "Darbara! I am surprised to see you here in these robes. And where is your Tulsi?"

He then began to narrate Tulsi's story. When he reached Loralai, he found her house in an eerie silence. His mother-in-law had shifted to a neighbour's house along with whatever little of her belongings remained. She told him what had happened, "When the Pathans and the Sikhs began to loot each others' houses in Loralai, they took both my daughters away with them in their lorries. My husband and my son died fighting them".

After the horror had managed to sink in, Darabara Singh began to look for Tulsi and her sister, but couldn't get any news about them. He began to fear that they might have already been killed. He came to Jalandhar in this state of disappointment and sorrow and began to work in his ancestral fields.

About three years later, the governments of Hindustan and Pakistan decided to find the whereabouts of the abducted wives and hand them over to their relatives across the borders. Mridula Sarabhai and Princess Amrit Kaur pursued the initiative seriously. In 1951, they found Tulsi too and brought her to Darbara Singh. She had three children with her. The oldest one, about four years old, was Darbara Singh's. The others – a two-year old and a baby of about six-eight months – were clearly born of a Muslim man. She held onto the baby and said, "I have lost the honour to be called your wife. I had been flogged and thrown to several men. I would have killed myself a long ago. It was Vijay Singh, our son, for whose sake I kept myself alive".

Darbara Singh said, "Whatever happened has not been your fault but I cannot bear to have these Muslim children around. Whenever they will come to kiss you, they will remind me of everything that you have been through. Give them to me and I'll put them in an orphanage". Tulsi refused to part with them, because they were her children too, and she held to the baby even more tightly. Darbara Singh told me, "The presence of the younger one would give me an ache – perhaps he was born out of Tulsi's love for the other man. Why could she not give him up otherwise? I was losing my sanity to these thoughts and images of my shame. I handed over everything to Tulsi and came here to the Himalayas".

What Darbara Singh had gone through was very disturbing. I sympathised with him but somehow convinced him to go back – to his lands, his wife and his sons. I tried to persuade him by narrating several episodes from our epics. He ought to have thought about practically – that which was born out of his lands was his, as he was the breadwinner of the family. He was depriving hem of his presence and protection – that could cause them pain and turn them into victims of the goons!

Darbara Singh seemed to have become frail. He had definitely been ill for quite some time and lost his ability to feel young and alive. It was not just the harsh climate and his ascetic way to of life that had made so weak; he missed being with Tulsi too. He agreed to return. I saw him off on his journey back home and moved on to mine.

About three years later, I went to Amritsar. While in a sermon by the Radhaswami in Beas, I remembered that Darabara Singh's village was only a few miles away. It was not difficult for my driver to ask for directions to his house. When I reached there, Tulsi recognised me and rushed to touch my feet. The children were playing nearby.

Inside, I was surprised to see a young man relaxing on the cot. I was surprised to see him lounging around as a member of the family. Tulsi read my thoughts and explained, "Darbara Singh has gone to Amritsar to buy some stuff. He will be back soon. This Sindhi Khalsa saved my life in Sakhar. I am helping him to settle down here. He farms my land and takes my cows for grazing. I have given him a hut nearby".

It was obvious that she was lying. The man was someone more than a helping hand. The way he was savouring the food made by Tulsi and her looks spoke volumes about who he was. I addressed him, "Miyan! You know very well that these real Khalsas can kill you without a thought, when provoked. How does that not scare you enough to go away?"

Both he and Tulsi felt ashamed at being caught this way. He began to speak to me in Sindhi, "Sir, I belong here because my wife and my sons live here. I cannot live without Tulsi. She has given me her love and saved my life. How can I go away from them? Even if I die here, it would be at least with the solace that they are around and safe". He kissed his son and left addressing Tulsi as Zeenat, "Let me leave before anybody else comes to know".

Tulsi brought some tea and biscuits for me. She then began her story: "I fell to a Pathan's share in the loot that happened in Loralai. He and his friends raped me several times and then sold me to a Punjabi goon in Koita. He was worse than the Pathan. He had several women like me. He would use us as his prostitutes and made money off our bodies and dignity. My first son was just born. When I couldn't bear so many men, he would flog me.

"There were too many of us with other men in Koita. After some time, we were no longer profitable to him. Then he heard that the rich Sindhis keep many wives as their status symbols. He thought that we would fetch him a good price there. He took us to Sakhar. We were stripped in the flesh market for sale. Most of the women were sold off for two to four hundred rupees. But this Rabrakha, the man who just left, bought me for five hundred. After all that I had been through, his home seemed heaven.

"He sold milk for a living. He never forced himself on me. He would often console me and assure me of his love. He once said, 'You Hindus believe in many births and many lives. But my Allah has united me with my love in this life itself'. He fell in love with me despite all the diseases that had infested my body. He cared for me and got me all the treatment I needed. I cannot even count how many men had forced themselves on me. I would have killed myself long back but the thought of leaving Darbara Singh's son alone forced me to survive.

"I was sure I would never find Darbara Singh again. I was sure that even if met again, he would never take me back in his heart and his home. It seemed as if our days of being married were a story of a previous birth. I embraced Islam and married Rabrakha. I was grateful for the love he showered upon me and for the care he took of me when I was ill. When I gave birth to my second son, I fell severely ill again. At that time, he sold all his cows to afford the injections and the blood I needed. It was a new life that he gave me.

"Ours was a happy life. The love of my children made our lives perfect. After two years, I gave birth to my third son. Rabrakha had to mortgage our home this time to buy my medicines. It seems I was never destined to be happy, as if I was cursed at birth.

"Janmohammed was our neighbor. He worked at the local court. He used to ogle at me all the time. When he saw Rabrakha in deep debt, he offered to buy me for a thousand rupees. Rabrakha got furious and hurled abuses at him. I used to stay away from Janmohammed and keep my door locked from inside. But he could see me from his window and make obscene gestures at me. One day when I forgot to lock the door, he barged inside and said, 'You're wasting your beauty toiling for Rabrakha. He has nothing left now. He's nothing but a pauper. If you come to me, you would live like a queen'.

"I refused everything that he brought as gifts – the silk garments, sweets, money. I would tell Rabrakha everything and that would invariably cause a fight between them. One day Rabrakha thrashed Janmohammed. Later that night, Janmohammed brought several goons with him. They broke the door and hit Rabrakha with their sticks. They were dragging me away when the neighbours arrived after listening to my screams for help. They helped me take Rabrakha to the hospital. The doctor stitched his wounds up. I had to sell whatever we had left to pay his fees.

"I had just returned from the hospital. I was with my children when Janmohammed forced himself into our house. I began to tremble. He stuffed a bunch of notes in my hand and said, 'Why are you wasting your life? Come and be my queen. Come to me at night or I'll come here. Nobody will come to know. Or else, I'll kill your children and feed them to the crocodiles in the river. You have slept with so many men. One more won't make a difference. I am even ready to offer you all my riches in return'. I flung all his notes at him. After he left, I banged the door shut and locked it again.

"When Janmohammed realised he could neither tempt nor threaten me, he came with another wicked plan. Rabrakha had been released from the hospital, Janmohammed brought some police officers to our home. One of them said to Rabrakha, 'You have kept a Hindu woman named Tulsi in your house. We have orders to send all the Hindu wives back to Hindustan'. When I heard these words, I began to shiver in fright. I couldn't imagine what misfortune I was about to go through now.

"Rabrakha replied to him, 'Sir, she is my wife now. We have children. You can ask her if she wants to go'. The Subhedar said, 'These are the orders from the big government. Even the Collector can't do anything to stop these orders from being followed. There is no question of what this woman wants. But she can decide if she wants to take all her children with her or leave them here'."

Rabrakha said to Tulsi, "Zeenat, please take these children with you. Who will be able to raise them here?" She gave him the details of her village and left with tears in her eyes. The children accompanied her to the government's jeep and then to Darbara Singh's house.

Darbara Singh was in the Himalayas when a similar jeep brought Rabrakha to Tulsi's house in a dying condition. She was surprised to see him. She took him inside, fed him, and changed his clothes. When he could manage to talk, he said, "I couldn't live without you. I wanted to see you and the children for the last time. But I wanted revenge too.

"The day Janmohammed got his salary. He was drinking on the banks of a river. I was hiding behind a tree. When he came closer, I chopped his head off with my axe, and threw it in the river. I took all the money he had in his pocket – there were about three hundred and fifty rupees. I jumped into the river to wash away all the blood from the clothes. I then took a train from Rohri and reached Bahawalpur. A shepherd helped me to cross over into Bharat".

The journey had made him numb. Luckily, the police found him and brought him to his Zeenat. Tulsi took care of him. She would have been shamed had she revealed to the neighbours who he was. Instead, she told them he was the Sindhi Khalsa who had saved her life in Sindh. She helped him make a hut near her house, where he would stay and help her with the work.

Very soon, Rabrakha became fit and felt alive again. He became the lover that he was of his Zeenat. Tulsi had been living like a widow since Darbara Singh deserted her. She had once again lost the hope of seeing him again. She fell in love with Rabrakha all over again. In their private moments they found ways to fulfill their desires. It was quite a twist in Rabrakha's life – it was idyllic here with Zeenat, after the horror that he had been through.

When Darbara Singh returned at my behest and saw him here, Rabrakha said, "I cannot live without Zeenat and the kids. Now that I am a murderer too, I cannot go back either. Death is my only fate. You can take my life if that brings any peace to you".

His mediations in the Himalayas had changed Darbara Singh. He said to Rabrakha, "You haven't wronged me. Had you not saved Tulsi, she couldn't have lived to see a better life. My son wouldn't have survived either. I would have lived alone and miserably. You need not go back – there are crores of Muslims living safely in Hindustan. You can go and stay around them because this village belongs to the Tasbi Khalsas. They'll kill you if they come to know that you're a Muslim. For how long can we hide the truth? They will humiliate us if they come to know about all that has past. Please go away".

I was so lost in Tulsi's story that I didn't realize it was getting late. Darbara Singh had still not returned from Amritsar. I had to head there too and then take a flight to Kashmir the next day. I couldn't wait any longer and left without meeting Darbara Singh. But I came back to his house after about twenty five days. He was happy to see me. He resumed the story. One day, his neighbouring shopkeeper's tools broke. When he came to borrow Darbara Singh's he peeped inside to pick up the loose screw that fell off, and saw Rabrakha offering his namaaz. He told the panchayat what he had seen. Till then everybody had been wondering why the Sindhi Khalsa never goes to the local gurudwara. They decided to chop him into pieces and throw them into the river.

Tulsi's friend came and told her about the verdict of the panchayat. Darbara Singh was shocked. He rushed to inform Rabrakha. Rabrakha took his older son with him and vanished. Now Darbara Singh stays with Rabrakha's younger son and his own.

Darbara Singh went out to fetch sweets to offer me. I saw that Tulsi was very sad. I thought she missed Rabrakha. She said, "True love requires sacrifice. He sold whatever he had to save me. He even took all the blows. Of course it pains me that he's gone. The son that he took away was mine too. I cannot imagine what he might be going through. How can I not miss them? I cannot sleep. I should have gone with them but we have been humiliated. These Khalsas were ready to kill an innocent man! I do not know who is good and who is evil anymore".

**********