The fag end of my visit to Delhi found me in conversation with a fascinating woman, an octogenarian, eighty year old Premlatha.
A woman who lives alone..... still does her own cooking, walks to the electricity office to pay her bills, buys her own vegetables.....all that and more. Someone whose life experiences show tremendous amount of strength and resilience....a true inspiration.
A woman who lives alone..... still does her own cooking, walks to the electricity office to pay her bills, buys her own vegetables.....all that and more. Someone whose life experiences show tremendous amount of strength and resilience....a true inspiration.
Her life is so full of intense and extreme experience, that I requested if I could convert that conversation into an interview.
She's my aunt's neighbor and landlady....actually lives in the house above my aunt's place. When she knew Swaroop and I were visiting she sent down makki methi rotis (made by her). In fact they were so yumm, that's all we had for lunch that day.
And that's also what gave me the opportunity to go up to thank her. Talking to her was like reading a tightly written fiction novel, making the adage 'truth is stranger than fiction' come alive.
And that's also what gave me the opportunity to go up to thank her. Talking to her was like reading a tightly written fiction novel, making the adage 'truth is stranger than fiction' come alive.
Some context:
She is originally from Lahore, and moved to India during the partition. Her family then settled in Jallundhar. And yes, she has experienced partition in all it's brutality and gore.
She is originally from Lahore, and moved to India during the partition. Her family then settled in Jallundhar. And yes, she has experienced partition in all it's brutality and gore.
And if that's not enough extreme experience for a lifetime, she had another. When she was pregnant with her first child, very young, just a few months into marriage, her husband disappeared. Yes, disappeared......never to be found again.
He worked with the IB (Intelligence Bureau ) and was on a mission in Mizoram, when he and his team of eight just disappeared. No amount of searching gave so much as a clue..... even the body was never found. She even met Indira Gandhi with a plea for additional search efforts.
She said that for years and years when the door bell rang she'd think it was him. And the thought of settling or getting remarried was never an option because they didn't ever know if he was even alive or not.
She said that for years and years when the door bell rang she'd think it was him. And the thought of settling or getting remarried was never an option because they didn't ever know if he was even alive or not.
The conversation was sadly not as long as I would have liked, so we just stayed with the partition experience. I've had to translate, which I'm doing reluctantly as it was so beautiful in her hindi. Anyways, here it is, part in her words and part in translated version:
Me: आंटी जी आप लाहौर के रेहने वाले थे ? ( so, you were from Lahore?)
Premlatha ji: हाँ
Me: रेवती आंटी ने कहा था की दाल पकते पकते आप लोग को भागना पड़ा ? उस बारे में बताएँगे मुझे थोड़ा सा ( aunty told me you had to leave even as your mother was cooking dal)
Premlatha ji: में साथ या आठ साल की थी...... माँ खाना बना रही थी .......तब हमारे पास स्टोव नहीं था..... यह कोयला भी नहीं था...... लकड़ी पे दाल पखरहा था... बापूजी दवाई लाने मेडिकल शॉप गये थे ...... छोटा भाय को टाइफाइड होगया था.........उसकेलिये
I must have been around seven or eight years old, my mother was cooking...we didn't have stoves, she was cooking on firewood, I remember the smell of daal on the stove. My father had gone to buy medicines. My brother had typhoid, so he went to buy medicines for him.
There a police man, who knew them well, told him,
"दवाई छोड़ो , जान का देखो ... घर जाओ और फॅमिली को लेखर भागो ....पता नहीं , राइफल्स हम्हारे ही हाथ से आप पर छूट जाये "
(leave the medicines, go back, take your family and run, who knows it may end up that our rifles itself shoot you)
We literally ran, in fact we were told not to take anything.......i remember we ran, then my mother went back to put out the cooking fire. We took only the medicines that my brother needed.
They said even for Rs.2 you'll get killed, remove the bangles you are wearing also.
We didn't want to lock the door from outside, so we had to climb over the wall and escape from the side road....we took a tonga, and went to Miyameen station. We reached the station in the dark. There were no trains, and the station was very crowded.
It was the night of 14th August '1947. Everybody was waiting at the station for the announcement....we didn't know if Lahore would go to India or Pakistan.
It was early morning by the time the announcement came that Lahore was going to Pakistan.
After a while a train came in. People who got in first came out and said, "don't get into that train, there is only blood flowing in it " (all the bodies had been thrown out on the way).
Next train we got into, and it was so tightly packed that we couldn't even move. My mother was holding my hand and my brothers and she said she could not even see where my father and other brothers were.
There was no place to even shake the thermometer, it fell and broke. And people around said 'that is only better, what will you do even knowing the fever is high'.
We only got a few drops of water each, they said just wet your lips.
We reached Amritsar. Then we had to walk through farms...my mother lost her chappal. We stayed with farmers in their outhouses. We moved like that for one and a half months.
There used to be a lot of noise and a lot of fear.
We finally reached Jallandhar in a goods train, and we managed that because my father worked in the railways, and initially we stayed with relatives.
He went to his office there and found that he had got a posting to Delhi. When we reached Delhi he wasn't even sure he still had the job. When we reached there they were just planning to refill his post.
We were seven children, four brothers and three sisters. I remember my father said, I'll eat only one meal a day, but I will educate all my children. And he did. I completed my graduation here in Delhi. I worked as a teacher till I retired.
( As I wrote this, I realized that I must have been mostly dumbstruck, and except for the occasional reaction I had no questions of relevance. It was all her flow.)
Me: I am struggling for words........ this whole experience, and the experience with your husband's disappearance....and then living alone now.....I'm lost for even questions....you tell me aunty ji, what life means to you now
Premlatha ji: हम न किसी चीज़ से भी एडजस्ट हो जाते है
बहुत उत्तार चढ़ाव देखा है मैंने ......ग़म भी नहीं खुशी भी नहीं..... दिन पे दिन, आज का दिन ख़तम होगया, और कल एक नया दिन, बस, ऐसे ही चलता है अभी .
(As people we adjust to anything in life.......I've seen many ups and downs, too many.....now, it's neither sorrow, nor joy.....each day comes and it passes, and another day comes....that is my life)
Me: I'm so honoured to have been able to talk to you. I wish I could stay longer and talk, but the call has come from aunty, and need to go. I can't tell you how touched I am for your sharing your experience with me. Namasthe aunty ji.
Premlatha ji: मुझे बहुत अच्छा लगा आप से बात करके....... आप के मम्मी कितने अच्छे है...... आप को मक्की की रोटी अच्छा लगा?
( I liked talking to you too, I really like your mother, she is so nice. Did you like the makki ki roti?)
I was overwhelmed. I was finding it hard to shift from partition to my mom, to makki ki roti, and in just how beautifully she did it, she showed me how she lives day on day.
She even said, methi ki roti tho I know you also make with wheat, and I wanted to give you something different, so I decided on makki (cornflour) instead of wheat.
Her thoughtfulness so touched me. At eighty, living alone, what a tower of strength....and what a woman.....and what an honour it was to just spend even that much time with her. I feel blessed.
Premlatha ji: हाँ
Me: रेवती आंटी ने कहा था की दाल पकते पकते आप लोग को भागना पड़ा ? उस बारे में बताएँगे मुझे थोड़ा सा ( aunty told me you had to leave even as your mother was cooking dal)
Premlatha ji: में साथ या आठ साल की थी...... माँ खाना बना रही थी .......तब हमारे पास स्टोव नहीं था..... यह कोयला भी नहीं था...... लकड़ी पे दाल पखरहा था... बापूजी दवाई लाने मेडिकल शॉप गये थे ...... छोटा भाय को टाइफाइड होगया था.........उसकेलिये
I must have been around seven or eight years old, my mother was cooking...we didn't have stoves, she was cooking on firewood, I remember the smell of daal on the stove. My father had gone to buy medicines. My brother had typhoid, so he went to buy medicines for him.
There a police man, who knew them well, told him,
"दवाई छोड़ो , जान का देखो ... घर जाओ और फॅमिली को लेखर भागो ....पता नहीं , राइफल्स हम्हारे ही हाथ से आप पर छूट जाये "
(leave the medicines, go back, take your family and run, who knows it may end up that our rifles itself shoot you)
We literally ran, in fact we were told not to take anything.......i remember we ran, then my mother went back to put out the cooking fire. We took only the medicines that my brother needed.
They said even for Rs.2 you'll get killed, remove the bangles you are wearing also.
We didn't want to lock the door from outside, so we had to climb over the wall and escape from the side road....we took a tonga, and went to Miyameen station. We reached the station in the dark. There were no trains, and the station was very crowded.
It was the night of 14th August '1947. Everybody was waiting at the station for the announcement....we didn't know if Lahore would go to India or Pakistan.
It was early morning by the time the announcement came that Lahore was going to Pakistan.
After a while a train came in. People who got in first came out and said, "don't get into that train, there is only blood flowing in it " (all the bodies had been thrown out on the way).
Next train we got into, and it was so tightly packed that we couldn't even move. My mother was holding my hand and my brothers and she said she could not even see where my father and other brothers were.
There was no place to even shake the thermometer, it fell and broke. And people around said 'that is only better, what will you do even knowing the fever is high'.
We only got a few drops of water each, they said just wet your lips.
We reached Amritsar. Then we had to walk through farms...my mother lost her chappal. We stayed with farmers in their outhouses. We moved like that for one and a half months.
There used to be a lot of noise and a lot of fear.
We finally reached Jallandhar in a goods train, and we managed that because my father worked in the railways, and initially we stayed with relatives.
He went to his office there and found that he had got a posting to Delhi. When we reached Delhi he wasn't even sure he still had the job. When we reached there they were just planning to refill his post.
We were seven children, four brothers and three sisters. I remember my father said, I'll eat only one meal a day, but I will educate all my children. And he did. I completed my graduation here in Delhi. I worked as a teacher till I retired.
( As I wrote this, I realized that I must have been mostly dumbstruck, and except for the occasional reaction I had no questions of relevance. It was all her flow.)
Me: I am struggling for words........ this whole experience, and the experience with your husband's disappearance....and then living alone now.....I'm lost for even questions....you tell me aunty ji, what life means to you now
Premlatha ji: हम न किसी चीज़ से भी एडजस्ट हो जाते है
बहुत उत्तार चढ़ाव देखा है मैंने ......ग़म भी नहीं खुशी भी नहीं..... दिन पे दिन, आज का दिन ख़तम होगया, और कल एक नया दिन, बस, ऐसे ही चलता है अभी .
(As people we adjust to anything in life.......I've seen many ups and downs, too many.....now, it's neither sorrow, nor joy.....each day comes and it passes, and another day comes....that is my life)
Me: I'm so honoured to have been able to talk to you. I wish I could stay longer and talk, but the call has come from aunty, and need to go. I can't tell you how touched I am for your sharing your experience with me. Namasthe aunty ji.
Premlatha ji: मुझे बहुत अच्छा लगा आप से बात करके....... आप के मम्मी कितने अच्छे है...... आप को मक्की की रोटी अच्छा लगा?
( I liked talking to you too, I really like your mother, she is so nice. Did you like the makki ki roti?)
I was overwhelmed. I was finding it hard to shift from partition to my mom, to makki ki roti, and in just how beautifully she did it, she showed me how she lives day on day.
She even said, methi ki roti tho I know you also make with wheat, and I wanted to give you something different, so I decided on makki (cornflour) instead of wheat.
Her thoughtfulness so touched me. At eighty, living alone, what a tower of strength....and what a woman.....and what an honour it was to just spend even that much time with her. I feel blessed.
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