‘Not many people slept in Mano Majra that night. They went from house to house – talking, crying, swearing love and friendship, assuring each other that this would soon be over. Life, they said, would be as it always had been.’
Though, this was not to be the case. Mano Majra, in Singh’s much-celebrated book, was initially a place of peace amid raging violence during India’s partition in 1947. A village with Sikh and Muslim inhabitants and only one Hindu family, the imaginary village is characterized as an ordinary mid-20th century Indian village, with a Railway line passing close by. Singh’s story is imaginary, though it is based on the happenings of the partition; it can almost pass as an actual account. The story revolves around different characters, with the character of ‘Jugga,’ a Sikh dacoit, playing a major role. The dacoity and murder of the village money lender Ram Lal are suspected to be the doing of Jugga, though, that night, he was far from the village with Nooran, a Muslim weaver’s daughter. The following day, Iqbal, a social worker from Delhi, arrives at the village by train and seeks shelter in the Gurudwara. Consequently, he is also arrested for no fault of his. The name Iqbal, common to Muslims, Sikhs, and Hindus, is easily appropriated by the state on the pretext of the possibility that he would disrupt the situation in the village. As the rioting and violence of the partition intensified, there was a fear in the state that the situation in Mano Majra may deteriorate at any given time, and it was best advised to evacuate and send the Muslims of the village to Pakistan. Meanwhile, a train full of dead human bodies is suspected of having arrived at the Mano Majra Railway station. The villagers are asked to provide wood and fuel, and though physically the site of cremation was cordoned off, the smell of burning flesh confirmed the doubts of the villagers that the passengers on the train were all murdered. Mass murders during the migration had become common across the railway and road networks. With each side wanting to send more numbers of dead bodies across the border, Punjab became a land soaked in blood. Hukum Chand, a character who symbolizes the statestate‘s role, is shown as almost powerless. The subjugation of any formal authority led to increased retaliation from both sides. Killings, abductions, conversions, and rapes dominated the mass exodus. In Mano Majra, the state is able to find a way to manipulate the murder of the money lender, Ram Lal, and give it a religious flavor. They were able to ‘... divide Mano Majra into two halves as neatly as a knife cuts through a part of butter.’ Singh’s text navigates through the lives of the ordinary and the state‘s policies; it transcends geographies and boundaries and follows people’s mental and physical journeys. The newly formed states of India and Pakistan claimed their citizens, even if they may have been reluctant to move to the other side. Singh narrates this othering process and how boundaries on the map created boundaries between the people. Back in Mano Majra, the Sikhs and Muslims had come to a decision that the Muslims would have to move out of the village, and the Sikhs would take care of their belongings until the situation stabilized and the Muslims could come back to the village. The partition was seen as ‘Kalyug’ or as a bad period. As the Muslims of the village left the village with hardly any belongings, a group of Sikhs entered the village and lay claim to all that they had left. The new group now asked for volunteers from the village to help them in their retribution plans. Jugga returns from prison to find a drastically changed village, with even Nooran shifted to the refugee camp. He learns about the group‘s plot to tie a rope across the train crossing. The train would be carrying the Muslims of Mano Majra from the camp to Pakistan at night. The rope would lead all the people sitting on the train‘s roof to fall to their death. In a theatrical and heroic act, Jugga climbs and cuts the rope as bullets were being fired at him by the attacking Sikhs. ‘The rope snapped in the centre as he fell. The train went over him, and went on to Pakistan.’ Jugga, or dacoit Jugga, let his life come in the way to allow the train to pass unharmed to the other side. Kushwant Singh draws attention to the fact that there were also incidents of care towards the ‘other’ on multiple occasions, and in some cases, even at the cost of one’s life. Migrations to the other side are often full of stories of loss, interspersed with those of faith and hope.
Yakin Kinger is an architect engaged in research and practice, and is an assistant professor at MET SOA & ID, Nashik. He holds a Masters in Architectural History and Theory from CEPT University. His research lies at the intersection of cultural landscapes and postcolonial studies by critically unpacking historiography in the context of architecture and its representation across mediums. He is also interested in Indian Classical music and plays the Sitar.