The exotic oblivion and an inviting uncertainty of a new
infant nation made umpteen families pack up whatever they had, taking with them
a tarnished mark which was promised to be mended and restored by this new
country. 1947, following the partition of India, the journey began in a small
town in Kanpur. A little boy sat next
to his father in a spacious veranda, listening
to the endless stories of wonders and lustre possessed by this new nation. It
was his family’s dream to go there someday and be a part of something bigger. A
sense of belonging was all that they wanted. That dream soon became a reality
three months later when the little boy and his family finally boarded the ship to
Karachi.
The ship was named ‘Dwarka’.
It was a brand new, white coloured
ship large enough to have more than a thousand people on board. Bombay port was
extremely busy and crowded. The deck was thronged with people from all parts of
India. Each member of every family was holding
a suitcase or potli cloth, grabbing
on to it with their lives for it was all that they were left with. Porters were
hustling and bustling about desperate to carry suitcases for the simple
exchange of a few Rupees from people
unfit to carry their own burdens. A large number of families were migrating
through sea around this time. The riots in Punjab made travelling by train
dangerous. There was an uncertainty of life and death not many families were
looking forward to. The little boy’s family was one of them. They found adventure
at sea far more inviting than an encounter with the rioters and their gandasas.
It was the first time the boy ever saw a ship. To him it was
more than just engines and steel. It was
an unpredictable future and a ray of hope. They were off to a fresh new
beginning. The moment he and his family stepped onto that ship, they lost a
home and an identity. No more were they a part of the land they were leaving
behind. With the eagerness to be accepted by this new infant nation, the three
thousand people on board belonged to no one for now, but the unknown waters of
the Arabian Sea.
The journey to a fresh new start however came with
exhaustion. It was a long three day voyage that seemed endless. Three tedious
days were to be spent cramped up beside unfamiliar faces. The ship was over
boarded with countless families who had secured a tiny spot for themselves and
their belongings. The smell of the sea mixed with the unpleasant odour of the people
spread into every inch of the ship. The little boy and his family somehow
managed to board the ship without a ticket along with many others just as
desperate to leave. With his brothers and sister, the eight year old boy
snuggled up beside his mother, hiding from the ticket collector.
With just an hour into the journey the ship was greeted by a
storm. The ship swayed from left to right with sea water splashing itself
forcefully on to the decks. There were no rooms for civilian passengers and
sleeping on the deck was not an option. The little boy had to spend his night
sleeping on a rolled up dupatta,
contemplating the decision his family had made. Was it the right choice to just
suddenly pack up and leave everything behind? The memories of him back in Kanpur, sitting under the shade of a sheesham tree watching the other boys
playing cricket replayed over and over in his mind. The little boy never played
a lot with the local children. He was different from the rest. He preferred
reading a good book or just simply questioning the ways of the universe,
spending long hourly days in his own little utopia. Unlike his parents, he felt a connection with
his motherland. Would Pakistan be just as accepting? Would the memories he was
to make add a similar warmth to his world just like the ones he made in India?
With these flashbacks and questions he fell into a deep bottomless sleep that
lasted longer than the storm.
The next day, he woke up to his mothers smiling face.
Satisfaction and happiness illuminated her expressions but the boy could not
comprehend the reasons for his mother’s emotions. While he saw his life in
India perfect, his mother saw an end to her tribulation; whether it was austere
social problems or personal misfortunes? The boy never found out. However, he
felt the need to entitle himself with a reason to migrate since he had no
choice. For the remaining two days, the little boy tried to see the positivity
in this migration. Well for starters, he no longer had to worry about the local
boys taunting him for being a book worm but no matter how hard he tried to find
happiness in his journey, he felt a part of him was still missing.
He went up to the deck to breathe some fresh air and to free
himself from the claustrophobia dwelling inside the lower compartments. It was
late in the afternoon and the sun had already begun its descent. He looked back
to see all the water that filled up the distance between him and his home.
Those days were gone now. An old childhood that had ended for a new one to be
made and the little boy wasn’t sure if he would like the latter. But then he
looked forward and saw the sun kindling proudly in the sky and he thought to
himself: how could he expect to grow or be successful if he despised the idea
of change. Change is important for making the best of one’s opportunities.
Leaving behind the past to mould the future can help make one into their ideal
self. For the sun has to set for it to rise.
The little boy had finally found satisfaction and acceptance
in his circumstances. Oblivion and uncertainty was just a part of life. To make
it worth it a person has to accept it. Acceptance in turn creates satisfaction.
Sometimes, one just needs satisfaction to instil positivity and bliss in their
milieu. And sometimes one just has to give up and let go of their past to grow
into a better future. This became the
little boy’s motivation in his life to come and life in Pakistan did turn out
to be just as warm to his heart. Though the little boy never forgot his roots
in India, he continued to preach this motivation to others even when he grew
up, especially to me. It was one of my favourite things to do; listening to the
stories and journeys of this little boy, who had grown up to become my
grandfather.
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