(On behalf of Ravi Chopra, who is also acting in this play)
I have a personal experience of migrating from Kasowal, a village in Pakistan, to Delhi by train. On Aug 29, 1947, I with my DAADI boarded train packed to capacity heading towards Raiwind Junction. While changing train at Raiwind, there was firing at the plateform and I got a bullet hit at my calf muscle bleeding till my daadi tore her Dhoti to make a bandage soaked in her urine. Enroute, we witnessed homes on fire, young girls jumping into the wells to save their honour. Sight was sickening to say the least and we were not sure if we would survive the ordeal.
There was a rich Hindu family travelling in our compartment who dished out money and at times parted with their ornaments to keep away the miscreants entering our compartment. Luckily, A good hearted Muslim family travelling in our compartment was a great help. To cut the story short when we reached Ferozpur, We discovered to our horror that ours was the only boggie which survived the massacare as there were hardly any survivors in other compartments. At Ferozpur station sardars were distributing food, tea and fruits free of charge. Though we reached India in one piece, the ordeal did not end here. We almost perished in refugee camp but to my good fortune we were located by my parents after miserable camping experiece of 7days and me running 104 degree temperature looking like a skeleton of 8 years old.
I have a personal experience of migrating from Kasowal, a village in Pakistan, to Delhi by train. On Aug 29, 1947, I with my DAADI boarded train packed to capacity heading towards Raiwind Junction. While changing train at Raiwind, there was firing at the plateform and I got a bullet hit at my calf muscle bleeding till my daadi tore her Dhoti to make a bandage soaked in her urine. Enroute, we witnessed homes on fire, young girls jumping into the wells to save their honour. Sight was sickening to say the least and we were not sure if we would survive the ordeal.
There was a rich Hindu family travelling in our compartment who dished out money and at times parted with their ornaments to keep away the miscreants entering our compartment. Luckily, A good hearted Muslim family travelling in our compartment was a great help. To cut the story short when we reached Ferozpur, We discovered to our horror that ours was the only boggie which survived the massacare as there were hardly any survivors in other compartments. At Ferozpur station sardars were distributing food, tea and fruits free of charge. Though we reached India in one piece, the ordeal did not end here. We almost perished in refugee camp but to my good fortune we were located by my parents after miserable camping experiece of 7days and me running 104 degree temperature looking like a skeleton of 8 years old.
This is too close to home. Thanks for sharing!
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