Independence, Partition, and Being Refugees…

Air Cmde Harkirat Manmohan Singh (H.M. Singh)

Interview by Sufiyan Siddiqui & Lindsay Eriksson-Siddiqui (for1947 Partition Archive.com)

This weekend my father was interviewed for the ’1947 partition archive’ by Dr. Sufyan Siddiqui and his lovely wife Lindsay Eriksson-Siddiqui. They were a delightful couple who came all the way from Denver to videotape my father’s recollections of life and events before-, during- and after- the partition of India, that saw the creation of two independent countries on religious lines (Muslim-Pakistan and Hindu-India). Nehru Jinnah Mountbatten This decision to split India by the British (Mountbatten), Indian National Congress leaders (Nehru, Patel) and Muslim League (Jinnah) triggered one of the bloodiest upheavals and the biggest mass-migration of humans in modern times. I characterize it as a unspoken genocide/holocaust, as growing up, it was not something that was taught in the school curriculum, one didn’t see documentaries or shows pertaining to it, not much seemed to be written about it in popular media, as a matter of fact neither did the government or national leaders talk of it. However, it was omnipresent and always in the background of the families who went thru it and was often talked about to us by our grandparents regarding how life used to be before, the people, friends, customs, what they lost, the travel to India, the hardships, etc. So, my family and I are very thankful to Sufiyan and Lindsay who volunteered their time and effort to document my father’s version of events that sheds light to a common misfortune both these countries suffered. Amazing part for me was how much my father remembered given that he was a toddler of 4 years old at the time of partition, perhaps too you to recall the events. In talking to Sufiyan & Lindsay, we realized that humans tend to remember traumatic events that they witness irrespective of age. Although I will try to post the interview if allowed, in the meantime, following is what I was able to capture of his recollections –

Pre-Partition

Subedar Sawan Singh (middle), Subedar Indar Singh (Right)

My father was born in the village of Chak 232 GB, Lyallpur in undivided Punjab. His family consisted on his grandmother and matriarch (Ajaib Kaur), father (Ranjit Singh), mother (Mohinder Kaur) and two younger brothers (Sukhbir and Malkiat). This village was a Sikh village, part of the canal colonies & composed mostly of ex-soldiers of the British-India armies. The family had migrated there from Jagraon when his grandfather Subedar Indar Singh of 34^th Royal Sikh Pioneers was awarded 5 Murabaas or 125 acres of land (He was a veteran of WW1 who participated in the German offensive on the western front and the Ottoman empire in Mesopotamia).

He also remembered that his father bought land in the village of Chajwal (Chak 172 GB), a predominately Muslim village, where the family lived until they had to leave when it got too dangerous and unsafe for them. He vividly recalled both homes- with the house in Chak 232 being ‘Kacha’ (mud construction), whilst in Chajwal (which was newer) had a ‘pakka diwan’ (cemented formal living area) and the rest was ‘Kacha’. He remembers that the living area was elevated and away from the animal area, and they kept buffaloes for milk, oxen to plough the fields, and goat etc., at home itself. There also wan as area for grain storage at home and that they grew wheat and cotton in their farms/fields. He talked about being self-sufficient and didn’t have to buy too many things from the market including cloth/fabric (Khadar) for clothes was weaved at home by his mother and grandmother. Although he was not going to school, he remembered that the nearest school was 6 miles away in ‘Satiana Bangla’. His fondest memory seemed to be that of a gramophone that served as entertainment for the villagers, where each night, his father would put it out and the whole village gathered to listen to the old records. He remembered it to be a happy childhood where everyone supported and respected each other irrespective of their religious, political ideologies or economic status. He fondly remembers the ‘Motbar’ or headman of the village whose name he did not recall during the interview and later remembered him to be “Nur Muhammad” who considered his grandmother to be his sister. Another recollection that he remembered later on was that there was ‘Gernali road’ (or General’s road) that ran close the the village and was meant for the british, and on which he saw an occasional jeep once in a while, and was kept pristeen by a road roller. The locals were not allowed on that road so the Indians travelled on a parallel road which was not as nice (that road now seems to be called ‘Tadlianwala road’ in the current map of that area!).

His recollection of when things started to heat up was when his father returned from Lyallpur (now Faisalabad), where there was a firing and from which he saved himself by hiding under the bus. Upon his return back, he told the village elders that the tide is turning and time would come soon when they will all have to leave the village for good. The elders didn’t believe him as they considered him too young to assess the situation! It’s during this time, my father remembers going to the historical gurudwaras’ of Nankana Sahib and Panja Sahib where he recalled putting his hand in the imprint of Guru Nanak’s hand, as it was uncertain when and if they would ever return.

Partition
He recalled that things deteriorated fast after that. He recalled the day the headman ‘Nur Muhammad’ came to Manji (his grandmother Ajaib Kaur) and said that things no longer are safe. Although he guaranteed them that none of the villagers would harm them but could not vouch for folks outside the village (which he was hearing of). Manji asked how much time would they have to pack up? He told that they just had 30 minutes, and that he will accompany them right to up to the canal and would ensure that get safely into Chak No. 232, the Sikh village. To their bad luck the wheels of the ox-cart were removed for greasing, so they could only take whatever they could grab and carry in their hands (which was not much), and that Nur Muhammed kept his word and only left when they were safely inside Chak 232.

Per my father’s recollection, the first attack on the village was by ‘Janglees’ (the local jungle folks/nomads) who came beating the ‘dhol’ (Indian drum) and were being led by a leader who was dancing on the mule. This attack was thwarted by the ex-soldiers who fired and shot the leader that scattered his followers. However, the attacks on the village kept mounting and my father clearly remembers that women were instructed to kill themselves by jumping from a tall building (and not be captured alive in case the defenses of the village fell). He also remembers his grandmother’s panic as during one of the attacks he got separated and hid, and her refusal to go into safety unless he was found! He was eventually located when the curiosity of a child got him to peek outside to see what was going on and someone spotted him. Eventually the decision was made to leave for India to Dhilwan on the river Beas.

images This was done in two ways, one where young women, children, elderly and handicapped went via a truck, and that is how he travelled with his mother and two younger siblings. It took them 5-6 hours to travel to East-Punjab. The route they followed was along the ‘Grand Trunk road (GT road) and went thru Lyallpur, Lahore, Amritsar, Jullundur and Beas, and my father remembers that there was excitement in the air when they reach ‘Balloke Headworks’ a dam site, on their route to India. Along the way my father remembers seeing some dead bodies, some shot, some decaying! The other was via a ‘Kafila’ (caravan) of ox-cart, horses, etc. that carried household items and that is how his grandmother and father came (they agreed to bring an ox-cart for someone provided they could also take their stuff, given they were not able to bring their ox-cart in their hurry to leave Chajwal). It took them over 3 months to reach Dhilwan given the slow nature of ox-carts to move. In the meantime, there was no news of them until one day news came that the ‘Kafila’ had reached the village and that is how they reunited as a family.

Here he also remembered an enduring memory that is etched in his brain. Apparently, to get to Dhilwan from Beas (where the truck dropped them), this stretch needed to be done on foot. However, they were told that a large Muslim Kafila has encamped on the side of the road and it would be safer if they went via the bus. My father remembers seeing this large caravan resting before it could resume its journey towards Pakistan, however, this was the monsoon period in the subcontinent with the torrential rains deluging the landscape, and as a result the Beas river started to swell. At night time, my father remembers hearing the people’s shrieks as they were being swept away by the flood waters! Another vivid story that he remembered during this time was that the floods which was chest high also caused food shortage. He remembers that one of the shopkeepers was stockpiling rice, sugar and soda (washing detergent) intended for the black market, which he refused to sell or give to these starving refugees. Only when the flood water started seeping into his storage area, he made a deal to split whatever they helped save 50/50. This is what got them thru these days where they ate raw rice mixed with sugar to survive!

Post-Partition

Once the family reunited, the arduous task of re-settlement began. The decision was made to move to the village of ‘Badhni Kalan’, which was my father’s grandmother’s parental village and where she had some land on her name. They first moved in with some of her extended family members (given she was the only child) and these relatives really welcomed them. Next came to decision to acquire their own dwelling, so it made sense when it was suggested that being refugees, they take over a house that was abandoned by a Muslim family who relocated to Pakistan. One such house was located which belonged to a teacher by the name of Sher Muhammed. Only problem was that it was being used for storage by the ‘Jan Sangh’ group, a local Hindu political party! When approached, they reluctantly agreed but told them to return the next day to get possession. However, upon their return the following day, they found that there was no one to receive them and hand them the key, instead the house was bolted shut and sealed from inside by a layer of bricks. My father recalled that then his hot-blooded uncle broke the lock, scaled the house, got inside and opened all the doors, and that is how they got possession of the house. Also, this was pre-dominantly a Hindu neighborhood so they did not want Sikhs to move in, as they thought they will be rowdy and misbehave with their women, so each night thereafter they would congregate and hold demonstrations outside their house. They even got a police constable to come each night but to the family’s good luck they had a relative at high police post in Moga (the neighboring town) so none of the police constables intruded. This was also a time when a huge tragedy and setback happened for the family. His father got admitted to the hospital due to Typhoid (apparently a doctor told them they were refugees and did not have much money, so their best bet is to go to the hospital) and during this time his one-year brother Malkiat got dysentery and he died from it. This news was kept from the father for a few days until he started to ask for him. My father recalls witnessing his grandmother crying profusely, covering her face so no one can see her grief, and took the body for burial (as infants were buried as opposed to cremation).

Manji, Sukhbir (Left) and Harkirat (Right)

Front- Mohinder Kaur (Mother) and Ranjit Singh (Father); Back – Sukhbir (Left) and Harkirat (Right)

My father said it took them about 6 months to get used to of their new environs. He remembers fondly starting school here where first the instruction was done in Urdu and quickly changed to Gurmukhi. He remembers his teacher very fondly (although he didn’t name them all, but they were Chajju Ram who was his first grade teacher, Uttam Singh his math teacher who loved his grandmothers Dahi-Bhalla, Channan Singh, Gajjan Singh his english teacher, Mal Singh his punjabi teacher and Sant Singh his second grade teacher who was extremely near-sighted and one knew they were in trouble when he looked up from reading his book and hooked his walking stick to bring a student closer), who all although strict were excellent teachers. He proudly remembers being the monitor of his class from grade 1 to 8 and how he ran the school store, and he was loved by everyone because he was so responsible! They eventually moved to the town of Moga for higher secondary education (where the family made a house) and went on to Ludhiana for his college education. He remained a good student throughout!

H.M. Singh (Standing – 2nd from Right, with #13 tags)

H.M. Singh (Standing, 2nd from Right)

He eventually joined the Indian Air Force and where he rose to the rank of Air Commodore (Brigadier General) as a navigator.

In closing, I am so proud of my father as his achievements are all his own and gained thru great hardships and perseverance. What amazes me is that he remains humble, grounded and reverent, and doesn’t let the ghosts and setbacks of the past hinder him in anyway. He is one of the most positive person I know and I am very lucky to have him in my life. I also want to take a moment to acknowledge all the families on both sides of the border who also endured and overcame such hardships. And to the citizens of both Pakistan and India who are celebrating their respective Independence days on August 14^th (Pakistan) and on August 15^th (India) to take the time to remember, honor and pay homage to these families and our shared history that saw 12-14 million people displaced from their homes & the refugee crisis it created, over 2 million that lost their lives, countless that became orphans or went thru great autocracies. They are our unsung heroes and we need to acknowledge that his violent partition is an important chapter of our combined histories. And for those who may have forgotten or don’t know the impact, the following youtube video captures the time and sentiments beautifully.

Other sites to explore-

https://www.facebook.com/1947PartitionArchive

https://www.1947partitionarchive.org/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Partition_of_India

In India’s Folk Songs, Echoes Of WW1 (WSJ Article by Karan Deep Singh)

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As I am doing research on WW1 and have been able to trace my GGF Subedar Indar Singh to the western front at Festubert and Neuve Chapelle, I came across this fascinating article Karan Deep Singh that I would like to share with you. To access the original posting, please the click this link – (Original articleWSJ)

In India’s Folk Songs, Echoes Of WWI

— Karan Deep Singh

A century after World War I — a conflict in which some 1.3 million Indian soldiers fought — echoes of the Great War can still be found in fading folk songs and poetry once popular in corners of rural India.

Academics have long been intrigued by the expressions of love, separation and death imbedded in Indian folklore from the time, particularly in Punjab, an area that contributed nearly half of the Indian army’s volunteer soldiers then. The songs and poems were typically sung by women.

Recently, a London-based poet Amarjit Chandan has been translating some of the works and reciting them in public addresses and performances. “Nobody ever talks about them, not to speak of singing them,” he says. He attributes that partly to a sense of shame over the fact that the soldiers had fought for the British Empire, a colonial oppressor.

Many of the songs are heart-wrenching accounts of women left behind, longing for their husbands, brothers and sons to return from “l’arme,” or “war” in Punjabi — a word, interestingly, that was adopted widely into the Punjabi language around the time of World War I and is based on the French word for “weapon.”

Here is an excerpt from one song as translated by Mr. Chandan. The word challa would be translated as “my darling”:

Challa here comes the lorry

I carry a heavy basket on my head

I stand and wait for him on the road

With tears in my eyes

Some songs display fears among women that the British were losing the war to Germany. Rawail Singh, a professor in the Punjabi Department at Delhi University, says anti-German sentiment expressed in folk wisdom from the time likely reflects the view of Germany as evil for starting the war.

An excerpt from one such piece:

May you be defeated, O Germany

You have taken my man as a prisoner

May you be wiped out, O Germany

Who has torn the sisters apart from their brothers

The power of folk music wasn’t lost on the military. A popular song of the time, performed and recorded by Bhai Chhaila Patialewala, a famous singer then, was used in effect as an Army propaganda piece, according to Mr. Chandan. “It would have been played in village fairs and recruitment gatherings,” he says, urging the Punjabi men to join the war effort in return for benefits such as tastier food and better clothing.

Here is an excerpt as translated by Mr. Chandan. Roti refers, of course, to the flatbread:

The recruits are at your door step

Here you eat dried roti

There you’ll eat fruit

Here you are in tatters

There you’ll wear a suit

Here you wear worn out shoes

There you’ll wear boot[s]

“This song must be seen in the context of Punjab’s socioeconomic conditions at that time,” says Mr. Singh, the professor. People were poor, and the British offer of 11 rupees a month (just pennies today, but a more sizeable amount at the time) was tempting for would-be soldiers.

The Punjabi role in World War I is starting to draw wider attention today, a century after the conflict. Recently the singer Daler Kaur covered one such song, “Ve mur aa lama ton,” the title of which translates loosely as a woman calling on a loved one to return from war. It was originally sung by Surinder Kaur and written by Punjabi poet Kartar Singh Blaggan.

And the noted Punjabi playwright Atamjit (who uses one name) says he has begun research for a full-length play based on the war. The main focus, he says, will be on remembering the loss of lives as told through from the Punjabi community. “We owe a responsibility to remember. It is already too late,” he says.

Ladwa Riyasat…

I forgot to finish my previous post regarding my ancestor’s sister and brother-in-law. Earlier in my blog, I had shared that it was during my great-aunt’s (Sirdar Dewa Singh’s sister’s) wedding to Raja Ajit Singh, the Regent of Ladwa (also written Ladva), that my great grandfather came into distinction. I now want to expand on what became of this great uncle (the Raja), his wife (my great aunt) and the Riyaset (Kingdom). I promise it’s’ riveting stuff and one that makes history exceedingly real!

‘Ladwa state’ in essence was the territory around Thanesar in Haryana, which was acquired by Raja Gurdit Singh. a close confidant of Maharaja Ranjit Singh (being from the same clan, village & ’Karoringhia Misl’). Later on around1764 the village of Baddoval (near Ludhiana) was also given as a ‘Jagir’ to him by Maharaja Ranjit Singh, as part of the conquest against Mughal Sirhind. Eventually his son, Raja Ajit Singh, succeeded him to the throne, and he was recognized as the ‘Regent of Ladwa’ by George Eden, 1st Earl of Auckland, the then British governor-general of India. And like his father, Raja Ajit Singh continued to remain a staunch ally of Maharaja Ranjit Singh & supported his various campaigns of conquests, and for which he continued to receive favors from him.

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Then in 1839, upon Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s demise, the East India Company set sights to annex his wealthy kingdom. This let to the first ‘Anglo-Sikh’ war (which was fought between 1845 and 1846 in Pheru Sheher, Moodkee, Sobraon and Chillianwallah) where Ajit Singh fought on the side of the Sikhs and against the British. He and Ranjodh Singh Majithia (a famous general), not only seized the forts of Fatehgarh, Dharamkot, Baddoval, but also entered Ludhiana cantonment where they set the barracks on fire! However, on January 28th, 1846, during the ‘Battle of Aliwal’ the Sikhs suffered defeat and Raja Ajit Singh fled the battlefield. His actions and support of the Sikh cause was considered to be treason against the British, so his Kingdom and estates were confiscated, and his wife (our great aunt) arrested and imprisoned at the Govindgarh fort. He eventually was captured in Allahabad, and during his captivity, he orchestrated yet another escape and was never captured again by the British. He is considered the only Raja who helped the Sikh cause below the Sutlej, so I would safe to say that he perhaps was amongst the first freedom fighter in Punjab.

PS- You can read more about him in the following article- http://www.anglosikhwars.com/battle-of-buddowal-21st-jan-1846/. Also, some interesting youtube post on ‘BBC Celebrity Antiques Roadtrip programme’ about some article from anglo-sikh wars https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33L9N8-BGQI&feature=youtu.b

Happy Basakhi

Punjabi New Year…

Today is magical as Punjabis all over the world celebrate Basākhī (also pronounced Visākhī). It’s a festival of great joy, fervor and reverence. Not only does it mark the start of the harvest season in Punjab but also celebrates the day Guru Gobind Singh created the ‘Khalsa panth’ that organized the Sikhs into a military/martial race to be reckoned with. This is a very significant festival that I look forward to celebrating all year.

For me this festival will be tomorrow, and about 12 hours behind LA time! I will be going to the LA convention center, where i will land in a sea of color (all punjabis know to wear their best and boldest colors); the gurudwara will be decorated beautifully and I will feel the divine in the Shabads; the ‘kara parshad’ and ‘langar’ will be warm and delicious, plus there will be warm jalebis coming right out of the pan; the bazaar will be buzzing with folks buying and bargaining; I will hear the energetic and mesmerizing ‘dhol’ (and maybe see some spontaneous ‘bhangra’ and ‘giddha’ dance performance, or singing of ‘boliyans’ or ‘tappas’); I will see ‘gatka’ for sure; and of course the ‘nagar kirtan’ (street procession) thru the streets of downtown LA where lots of free food and drinks will be offered to Angelenos!

I can’t wait for tomorrow & hopefully I will upload all the pictures. Now its time to iron my clothes and prep for tomorrow….

PS- Uncovered an interesting fact from my father. The Khalsa was formed on March 31st by the 10th Guru (based on the punjabi calendar) but now it’s celebrated each year on April 13th.

Max Arthur Macauliffe and my Ancestor…

Although Sardar Kahn Singh of Nabha is the most recognized and celebrated scholar in assisting Macauliffe in translating Sikh scriptures and Adi-Granth ‘Guru Granth Sahib’ into English, but little is known of countless other savants and intellectuals who also collaborated or from whom Macauliffe sought assistance in writing his famous 1909 publication ‘The Sikh religion: it’s gurus, sacred writings and authors’. Once such philosopher/thinker of the time was my ancestor Sardar Gahil Singh. He was my mother’s grandfather (or Beji’s father) who was the Nazim of Patiala riyaset/state during those times. He did so as a ‘Gupt Seva’ (Anonymous/selfless service), and did not allow his name to be written anywhere in Macauliffe’s’ writings.

From what I know is that he was a very stylish person and always had his tea in proper english style. Only grandkids who dressed properly was allowed to have tea with him. He died in 1948 in Talwandi Malhian (He was from ‘Sangha’ clan). I now am on a hunt for the original publication. So anyone who knows of a good bookstore that deals with rare books, or if you know of someone selling the 1st edition, please let me know. Also if you would like to read more about MacAuliffe, click on the link below-http://sikhchic.com/history/max_arthur_macauliffe_he_introduced_sikhi_to_the_englishspeaking_west

The Festival of ‘Hola Mohalla’

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Each year, I hear about the festival of ‘Hola Mohalla’ from my Chachaji from ‘Pind’ (village). His fervor and eagerness to go to Anandpur Sahib to partake in the festivities and set up for the ‘Langar Seva’ (selfless service as a free kitchen), plus the photos that I have seen of the jubilation and revelry intrigues me to not only attend it one day, but also is very reminiscent of a bygone era! It also invokes great reverence for the 10th guru, Guru Gobind Singh, who was getting ordinary Sikhs physically and mentally ready to take on a mighty Mughal Army and challenge its emperor Aurangzeb, who was conducting unimaginable and bloodcurdling autocracies. The quote of Guru Gobind Singh’s that comes to mind is “chirian te mein baaz ludaun, gidran to mein sher banaun, sawa lakh se ek ladaun, tabe Gobind singh Naam kahaun’ (only shall I be called Gobind Singh, when I train the sparrow to fight the hawk, I turn jackals into lions, and I make one Sikh fight a legion of hundred thousand’). I feel if I was there I would invoke the spirit and presence of the guru himself!

So what is this festival ‘Hola Mohalla‘? It is a three-day martial arts festival which is held annually during spring time, in Anandpur Sahib, the day after ‘Holi’ (the festival of colors) is celebrated. So this year Holi falls on March 21st, so Hola Mohalla will be celebrated March 22nd to the 24th! Some say that the word ‘Hola’ is a masculine variant of the word ‘Holi’, but the best explanation I found is by Bhai Kahan Singh, who points that the world ‘Hola’ is derived from the word ‘Halla’ (pronounced Hul-la) which means to attack, to assault or to descend upon, while the term ‘Mohalla (pronounced Ma-halla) stands for an organized parade or procession. So together, it means the ‘the charge of the cavalry or armies’. This makes sense given that the Sikhs and Nihangs gather to display their valor and prowess in a militaristic manner, and the festivities include demonstrations of swordsmanship, fancy foot works, ‘Gatka’, horsemanship, tent pegging, bareback horse riding, etc. Also battlefield mastery is demonstrated thru mock battles & combats. Although all this are from a bygone era, the essence of the festival is ‘bravery’ and a reminder to that Sikhs that they are soldier-saints who have a duty to protect and honor the helpless and downtrodden.

My Maternal Lineage…

Babaji’s Invitation Card

While perusing thru some compelling documents, my mother started reminiscing about all the stories of her family lineage. Most fascinating were the tidbits of her family history especially how her ancestor (her great-grandfather) came to become the Prime Minister of Nabha Riyasat, his rise as a prominent figure and advisor to Raja Hira Singh, his untimely death (which could be considered his murder), plus how his brother-in-law’s Riyasat of Ladwa was confiscated by the British and his sister’s imprisonment in the Govindgarh fort. Very riveting stuff!

Apparently, during the wedding of his sister to Raja Ajit Singh, the Regent of Ladwa state, that Sardar Dewa Singh (this grandfather) came into prominence and notability. His effortless handling of three Raja’s (rulers of Patiala, Nabha, and Jind) that accompanied the ‘baraat’ is what impressed the Maharaja of Nabha. My mother shares that Beji (her mother) stated that one of the servant or minor official complained about his accommodations to Raja Hira Singh, to which the Raja responded by saying ‘most folks can’t handle one King, and he handled three’. His popularity with Raja Hira Singh was so immense that other officials were jealous of his closeness with the regent, and that my have been the reason for his untimely demise from excessive leaching (Leech bloodletting was a common catchall treatment at that time). He died in Shimla in 1881. His wife was Mai Sukhan (who hailed from Bakarpur, Ambala), and they had five children – three sons and tow daughters. His youngest son, Bhagwan Singh, was my mother’s grandfather and my great grandfather!

Mamaji Gursharan…

photo-2019-01-25-15-57-17 Last Sunday night came the news that Mamaji Gursharan passed away. Although this is a shocking and sad news, but knowing that he’s returned back to our maker (to a better place away from the pain and suffering of this physical plane) is comforting.

How do I pay homage to this larger than life Uncle? He was an extremely accomplished and dynamic human being. Born on 19th November 1930, at home in the ‘Kila’ in Gujjarwal, he was 3rd of seven sibling (with my mother being the youngest and 15 years his junior). He finished his FSc from Government College Ludhiana, and went to Punjab Engineering College Roorkee (which later relocated to Chandigarh), where he graduated as a ‘Civil Engineer’. I remember him sharing that this was a time when even the engineering students got assigned butlers’ (a legacy pf colonial India!).

His first job was the construction of the ‘Bhakra Dam’, where he worked under Harvey Slocum, a renowned American civil engineer and dam-building expert (famous for building the Grand Coulee Dam in Oregon). Bhakra Dam was called the “New Temple of Resurgent India” by the first Prime-minister of Independent India and freedom fighter, Mr. Jawaharlal Nehru. His career also took him to Ghana and Iraq, where he helped these governments/companies with irrigation, dam and/or canal building/management expertise. He retired as the Chief Engineer of Punjab.

As I write this blog, an ‘Akhand Path (continuous prayers)’ have commenced. Although I can’t be there for his final ‘Antim Areas and Bhog’, I want to commemorate him, this amazing man, my beloved Mamaji. I love you Mamaji, and one day we will all meet again in the ethereal plane. Till then God Bless and ‘Shabba Khair‘. Continue reading “Mamaji Gursharan…” →

Lohri

Yesterday was ‘Lohri’, so we went to the local Gurudwara to celebrate. It was filled to capacity and it was lovely to see all the couples with newborns, plus all the newlyweds, being honored and celebrated. In addition to the ‘Divan’ (court/congregation of the Guru), with ‘Kirtan’ and ‘Shabads’ (holy hymns) and ‘Hukam’ (Guru’s lesson of the day) obtained from the Sacred Book, there also was the bonfire ceremony where we tossed (as well as ate) sesame seeds, peanuts, ‘rewaries’ & ‘gachak’ (peanut brittle) and popcorn into the fire. People sang traditional ‘boliyan’ (songs) and danced (performed ‘Bhangra’). It certainly was very joyous and I am glad that I went.

Apparently, the festival of ‘Lohri’ is always celebrated on January 13th each year (which is unique as it doesn’t follow the traditional lunar calendar). It celebrates and honors ‘Dullah Bhatti’ who was a dacoit who stole from the rich and gave tor the poor (aka the Robin Hood of Punjab), and most importantly saved young women from the invaders or cruel abductors, who used them to fill their harems or sold them as sex slaves. He then would get them married and for that reason the festival of Lohri always celebrates the newly weds and newborns. For these reasons, the most popular song sung during Lohri commemorates him and the lyrics goes as following –

Sunder Munderei. Ho!
Tera Kaun Bechara. Ho!
Dullah Bhatti Wala. Ho!
Dullah Dhi Viyahi, Ho!
Sher Shakar Pai. Ho!
Kuri de Mamme Aaye! Ho!
Unane Churi Kuti, Ho!

My friend also pointed out that this ritual also salutes the fire gods and when we toss the sesame seeds, we call out ‘Udham Aaye, Dalidar Jaye. Dalidar Di Jaad Chule Paye‘ (Energy come, laziness depart. Roots of laziness gets thrown/burnt in the fire’. This revelation was amazing as it reminded me of the fire jumping ritual that some of my Persian friends did during their festival for fire (Chaharshanbe Suri) where while jumping over the fire they said something like ‘take away my paleness (my troubles) and give me your redness’. In that part of the world, do we have common festivals? Regardless, Happy Lohri everyone!

The Raj, Wars and My Paternal Ancestors…

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Last month was special. I came across some of my ancestor’s military service documents, commendations, awards/medals, etc., for the empire days (majority of which didn’t survive partition of India and the great migration that ensued in 1947). I was most excited about two notable documents – First, being a 130 year old enlistment certificate from the reign of Queen Victoria of my great great grandfather Sawan Singh, and second, a WW1 commendation certificate of my great grandfather Indar Singh signed by Sr. Winston Churchill (the then secretary of war). This month we also celebrate the 100th Armistice Day marking the end of World War One.

It reviewing the documents, it appears that on October 5th, 1888, my great- great- grandfather Sawan Singh enlisted in the ‘34th Sikh Pioneers’, an infantry assault regiment of the British-Indian army. I remember Manji (my great grandmother) telling us that Babaji Sawan Singh had a very long and illustrious service, that he was a Subadar-Major (which is the highest rank an Indian could attain in the Imperial armies at that time), and that he was awarded a land grant of 5 Murraba (125 Acres) in the village of ‘GB Chak No. 232’ in Lyallpur district (now in Pakistan).She also talked about all the memorabilia he brought from his various deployments, especially the Chinese storage boxes (Sandooks) and Peking Silk that had to be left behind during the hasty migration of 1947. My research shows that some of his deployments would have been ‘relief of Chitral’ (1897), ‘Tirah Campaign’ (1897-1898), China ‘relief of Peking and Tientsin’ (1900-1901) following the boxer rebellion, etc.

Indar Singh, my great grandfather, also followed in his father’s footsteps and enlisted in the 34th Sikh Pioneers. During the ‘Great War’ of 1914-18, his regiment (part fo the 3rd Lahore division) was first deployed on the Western Front and winning the battle honors of Festubert, St Julien, La Bassee, Armentieres, Givenchy, Neuve Chapelle, Ypres, France and Flanders, and then moved to the Middle East in the Mesopotamia Campaign where he fought against troops of the Ottoman Empire. Manji used to mention that he showed great bravery in the battlefield, and despite being wounded himself, carried his commander to safety. He returned home shortly thereafter as a war-casualty, and later succumbed to his injuries at home, during the month of ‘Kata’ (Punjabi month that straddles October/November), in 1918 during the deadly ‘Spanish Influenza’ outbreak. Although Manji was pregnant with my grandfather when he passed away (so he never got to see his son). Manji stated that he was tall (6’ 4” or 6’5″), good looking, and also a Subadar-Major like his father. She would also talk about her wedding (she being his second wife), going to Ambala Cantt (the base of his regiment) where he was stationed as a Jamadar-Adjutant (which she pronounced Jamadar-Jitten). She also shared of her good relations with his first wife Rattan Kaur and her stepdaughter Kamal Kaur (my father also remembers Bhauji Kamal Kaur very fondly).

Although these artifacts & stories made me aware of their rich lives and legacies, it also makes me wonder how they would have been in person. Although history may not give them the proper dues, I for sure have a greater appreciation, respect and awe of their bravery, sacrifices, and courage. I salute them and honor their DNA that runs thru my veins.