It was their second meeting, in a queue at a refugee camp in Amritsar in independent India. As soon as Bhagwan Singh Maini, from Mianwali in newly created Pakistan, saw Pritam Kaur, from the neighbouring Gujranwala locality, he approached her. “Are you the same person?” he asked. She was. They had first met when their marriage was being considered. During Partition, Kaur, like Maini and a million others, had to leave what had become part of Pakistan for India. That second meeting at the camp led to many more frequent meetings, and later, marriage.
On 6 April 1949, Asif Khwaja from Temple Road, Lahore, wrote a letter to his friend Amar Kapur, who moved to India after Partition: “It gladdened my heart to hear from an old and dear friend after months of patient waiting, but it was a sad thought that we should have to communicate with each other through the cold, lifeless medium of the written word instead of meeting in the flesh as we did so often.” For many, the subject of Partition stirs memories of lost homes, roots, families. But what happens once the generation that witnessed the great divide is gone? Will today’s youth know how the lives of the refugees changed after they left their homeland?
These questions led to The Partition Museum Project, chaired by author Kishwar Desai and supported by the Indian National Trust for Arts and Cultural Heritage. The project plans to set up a “living” museum in Amritsar in Punjab that “commemorates Partition and the sacrifices made by people on both sides of the border”. It will hold oral histories, photographs, documents from archives, films, documentaries, paintings, poetry and other items that will tell the story of history’s largest mass migration. “The collection at the Yadgar-e-Taqseem museum will be constantly updated, hence the ‘living’ prefix,” says Desai, whose maternal grandparents crossed the border to India in 1947. “The idea is not to blame anyone, it’s just about healing and reconciliation.”
The museum is expected to be opened by the end of this year.
Since last year, Desai, along with others, has been collecting material for the museum; most of it will be on display as part of the exhibition Rising From The Dust: Hidden Tales From India’s 1947 Refugee Camps, starting on Thursday at the India Habitat Centre (IHC) in Delhi.
“People from all walks of life, from all parts of the world, have come forward and contributed, in the form of anecdotes, about their journey since Partition. We even have letters in which people have written to the government about the people or the things they have lost; some have talked about their parents, grandmothers and the things they got with them while leaving their homes,” says Desai. Like the gorgeous Phulkari-embroidered, knee-length coat and brown leather briefcase that Pritam and Maini, respectively, got with them. Like the sketches and sculptures camp commander S.L. Parasher made during his time at Ambala’s Baldev Nagar refugee camp. Parasher had been vice-principal at Lahore’s Mayo School of Art. “One of his sculptures is that of a woman’s head, which was made using the earth of the camp itself,” says his daughter, Shobha Patpatia. “For me, the time at the refugee camp was all about playing, making new friends. Our parents never talked to us about the struggle they were going through; they always shielded us,” says Patpatia, who was then around four years old.
“It’s time to lift the veil of silence over Partition,” says Desai.
Rising From The Dust: Hidden Tales From India’s 1947 Refugee Camps will be on from 19-26 May at the Visual Arts Gallery, IHC. If you have a memory, an anecdote or any material related to Partition or a refugee camp to share, mail thepartitionmuseum@gmail.com.
