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News18
a day ago
- News18
When Courage And Compassion Trumped Religion: 12 Stories From The India-Pakistan Partition
Last Updated: 1947 Partition: From the kulfi seller who whispered "don't fear" through gunfire to the soldier who sold jewelry to feed 14 families, ordinary people chose humanity over hatred The Partition of 1947 is often remembered through stories of bloodshed, displacement, and hatred. However, alongside these tragic events, there were many touching stories where Hindu and Muslim communities saved each other's lives, honour, and homes. This Independence Day, let's revisit some of those remarkable tales of human compassion that transcended religious boundaries. The Guardian Soldier of Gurdaspur When rioters came to attack Hindus in a small village near Gurdaspur, a Muslim soldier named Karim Khan was posted there. He stopped the mob with his weapon and hid 14 Hindu families in his house. For three days, he fed them by selling his wife's jewellery. When the route to India became safe, he personally rode a horse to escort them to the border. As they parted ways, an elderly Hindu woman said to him, 'Son, you will always remain my son, no matter how big the border becomes." The Rooftop Rescue in Lahore sahib later took them safely to Amritsar with his convoy. For many years, the son of that Hindu family would travel to Pakistan annually to offer flowers at Hakim Shafiq's grave. The Kulfiwala's Secret Protection Rafiq Mian, a famous kulfi seller in Old Delhi's Ballimaran, had a dear friend who was preparing to leave for Karachi during Partition. When riots broke out, Rafiq gave his friend's family shelter in the back room of his house. Every night, when the sound of gunfire echoed through the streets, Rafiq would tap on their door and reassure them: 'Brother, don't be afraid—the kulfi waala is outside." He kept the family safe for an entire week. When a train was finally arranged, he transported them to the station on his kulfi cart so no one would suspect anything. The Shared Kitchen of Faizabad In some villages of Uttar Pradesh's Faizabad district, despite the surrounding riots, communities established a unique rule: the 'shared chulha ' (shared kitchen). Every day, one house would prepare rotis while another made vegetables, and everyone would eat together. This system ensured that no one could identify which food came from which religion's household. The village elders would reportedly say, 'Religion builds walls, but roti breaks them down." A Promise Sealed with Vermillion The story goes that a Hindu couple in Karachi had to leave for India, but the woman was pregnant and the journey seemed too risky. Their Muslim neighbours, Imran and his wife, insisted: 'Let the child be born first, then you can go." After the woman safely delivered her baby and completed a full month of recovery, Imran arranged for them to travel to Bombay on his boat. As they departed, he touched the woman's vermillion and said, 'This colour should exist not only on your forehead but also in the trust between us." The Dawn Rescue in Amritsar A Muslim family in Amritsar found themselves surrounded by danger during Partition. Their Sikh friend, risking his own life, drove through deserted areas in the early morning hours to transport them to the railway station. He safely evacuated eight women from the family. This rescue took place on a day when most trains were stained with blood—a personal memoir was later published in The Hindu newspaper. Gandhi's 'Daughter' in Noakhali Bibi Amtus Salam, a Muslim social worker and follower of Mahatma Gandhi, played a crucial role in calming Hindu-Muslim riots in Bengal's Noakhali district during the 1947 partition. She joined Gandhi in a 21-day fast and later led peace restoration efforts in the region. While her own family fled to Pakistan, she chose to remain in India, holding high the torch of brotherhood and peace. In Gandhi's eyes, she was like a daughter to him. The Neighbour's Promise in Punjab In a Punjab village where violence had erupted, a Hindu family was preparing to flee their home overnight. Their Muslim neighbour Abdul stopped them, saying, 'You are like my brothers and sisters. No harm will come to you as long as I am here." Abdul sheltered them in his house and protected them for several days until the situation stabilised. Even amid the tragedy of Partition, this neighbour became a symbol of unwavering trust. Brotherhood on the Rails Fear of attack loomed over a train traveling from Amritsar to Lahore. A Sikh youth named Harnam Singh noticed a Muslim woman traveling with her child, both terrified. He set down his sword and reassured her: 'Bibi, don't be afraid—you are my sister." He not only protected them throughout the journey but also ensured they reached Lahore safely. This act became a powerful example of brotherhood during that turbulent era. The Shopkeeper's Trust Ramlal, a Hindu shopkeeper in Lahore, had to abandon his shop and flee to India. He entrusted the keys to his friend Muhammad Yusuf. Yusuf not only protected the shop from looters but, when Ramlal returned after Partition, handed back the entire establishment and all its goods intact. This friendship proved to be beyond the constraints of time and borders. Strangers Turned Saviours An elderly Muslim man in a refugee group traveling from Karachi to Delhi noticed a Hindu family suffering from hunger and thirst. He shared his rotis and water with them, saying, 'We are all humans—religion cannot divide us." His simple act of kindness became a lifeline for that family. Children's Innocent Diplomacy In a Punjab school where rumours of partition were spreading fear, a Hindu boy and his Muslim friend studied side by side. They made a pact to protect each other's families. When violence escalated, both boys approached their respective communities and appealed for peace. Their innocent efforts reportedly helped reduce tensions in the village to some extent. Other Acts of Courage top videos View all Medical Heroes: Dr. Purushottam Dutt and his brother Dr. Narayan Dutt took up arms to protect Muslim patients in their hospital, successfully stopping a mob attack. The Protector of Amritsar: When riots erupted in Amritsar in June 1947, Baba Ghanshyam Singh hid and protected hundreds of Muslims in his residence. The Station Chief's Shield: At Firozpur railway station, Station Chief Trilok Nath ensured the safety of 300 Muslims who had taken shelter in a nearby mosque, preventing attacks against them. These stories remind us that even in humanity's darkest hours, compassion, courage, and love can transcend the artificial boundaries that divide us. They stand as testament to the fact that individual acts of kindness, no matter how small, can illuminate the path toward hope and healing. About the Author Nitya Thirumalai Nitya Thirumalai, News Editor at writes on Indian and global politics as well as Formula 1. She was Google News Initiative-Columbia Journalism School Fellow in the inaugural Newsroom Leadership More Click here to add News18 as your preferred news source on Google. Get breaking news, in-depth analysis, and expert perspectives on everything from politics to crime and society. Stay informed with the latest India news only on News18. Download the News18 App to stay updated! tags : 1947 partition independence day India Pakistan partition partition partition of india view comments Location : New Delhi, India, India First Published: August 15, 2025, 14:07 IST News india When Courage And Compassion Trumped Religion: 12 Stories From The India-Pakistan Partition Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.
Indian Express
a day ago
- Indian Express
A YouTube video… & a man's mission: to reunite partition-separated families
It began with a chance YouTube video. On the other side of the border in Pakistan, a family had made an emotional appeal through a local channel, seeking help to locate the grave of an ancestor in a Punjab village. Watching it from his home in Fatehgarh Sahib, Sudagar Singh instantly recognised the place—he had relatives there. Guided by instinct, he travelled to Khanpur in Kharar, Mohali, searched the old Hindu cremation ground, and found the grave. Using the contact shared in the video, he informed the family. Days later, they crossed into India to pay their respects. Not long after, another story from the Partition years found him. A Muslim boy, separated from his family in the chaos of 1947, had been rescued and raised by a Sikh villager, then sent to Pakistan under the official exchange policy. That boy, Mehndi Hasan, is no more, but his son Zafar Iqbal recounted the story: during violent attacks in Sirhind, his grandmother had asked Mehndi to jump into a well with her. She died; he survived, staying in the well for two days before being rescued by Sikhs of Timber Pur and adopted by Gulab Singh, who renamed him Sudama. After four years, he was sent to Pakistan, where he built a successful life. Iqbal always wanted to thank Gulab Singh for saving and raising his father. These encounters lit a spark in Sudagar Singh. Seven years ago, he began a quiet but relentless mission—to reconnect families torn apart by the Partition. Sometimes it was just a phone call; other times, it meant travelling in person. Since then, he has reunited around 150 families, in some cases within just five to twenty-four hours. He even located Zafar Iqbal 70 years after Partition and connected him to Gulab Singh through a phone call, where the long-awaited words of gratitude finally crossed the border. For the past seven years, 57-year-old Sudagar Singh 'Chunni' of Chunni village in Fatehgarh Sahib has devoted his life to this work. He launched a YouTube channel—first under his own name, later renamed Yadaan 1947 Diyan—to share survivor interviews, reunion stories, and accounts of Muslims who stayed back in Punjab after Partition. What began as personal curiosity grew into a humanitarian mission. Over the years, he has traced relatives for 150 families, identified ancestral villages and homes for around 250 more, and located cemeteries where loved ones were laid to rest. Many have since visited their native places—journeys filled with tears, embraces, and memories pulled back from the shadows. 'Every family I help feels like my own,' he says, his voice steady but his eyes glistening. 'Partition didn't just divide land—it tore apart hearts.' His own life is rooted in a community where coexistence is not a slogan but a way of life. Chunni village has around 4,300 voters, including 300 Muslims from UP and Bihar. A mosque and gurdwara share the same premises. He once worked as a technician at the Central Government's Semi-Conductor Complex in Mohali for 16 years, until a fire gutted the unit. After voluntary retirement, he worked as an MGNREGA mate. Now, his daily work brings no salary—only the quiet satisfaction of service. He spends hours at his small internet setup, combing through online records, social media posts, old maps, and oral histories. A lead might come from a half-forgotten name, a pond in a story, or a mosque that was once a gurdwara. Among his many stories is that of Sardar Ali, separated from his Hindu Punjabi family during migration, who embraced Islam in Pakistan. His family settled in old Sirhind. Seventy-five years later, a heartfelt appeal led to a reunion in just five hours. Another time, he reconnected brothers Muhammad Suleman and Niaz Muhammad after 78 years, their first video call brimming with memories and tears. He also reunited Bashir Khan, 95, from Bhatian in Ludhiana, with an old friend after 77 years—through just a phone call. In Sirhind, a Muslim girl left behind in 1947 and married into a Sikh family was traced to her nephew in Pakistan within 24 hours. In Himatpura, Moga, he connected family members who spoke for the first time in over 70 years. 'The happiness, excitement, and tears on the faces of these families encourage me to work more in this direction,' he says. His mission has a spiritual side, too. He visits and documents old Sikh and Muslim religious sites—gurdwaras, mosques, cemeteries—ensuring their stories are not forgotten. 'In my own village, a mosque and gurdwara share the same space,' he says, 'a rare symbol of co-existence.' For him, the reward is simple yet profound—watching people cross the Radcliffe Line not as strangers, but as family. 'Borders can divide nations,' he says, 'but not the love between brothers and sisters.'
Indian Express
2 days ago
- Indian Express
Patriarchy to Power: The evolving meaning of freedom for Indian women
Written by Neha Mithun Rathod Seventy-eight years after Independence, the meaning of freedom for Indian women has evolved. From mere survival in the shadows of the Partition era to self-expression in the glow of social media, Indian women have come a long way to reclaim their freedom. Women across generations reveal how the times have changed their own perception of independence. Family decided, we obeyed: Nirmala Jain (81) 'We never spoke about self-ambitions and personal goals,' recalls 84-year-old Nirmala Jain, her eyes reflecting years of restraint. Born to Babulal and Jaraviben in Sildar, Rajasthan, Nirmala was the eldest of ten siblings and took charge of household chores from a very young age. Her days began before sunrise—fetching water, kneading dough, helping her mother—before attending lessons with masterji, who taught numbers, letters, and religious texts. By 14, she was married, meeting her husband for the first time at the mandap. 'No one asked whether we were ready. The family decided everything, and we obeyed,' she says. For women of her time, freedom meant small certainties: knowing everyone at home was safe, traditions were upheld, and the household ran smoothly. Now settled in Pune's Timber Market, Jain remains close to the community of families who migrated alongside hers, a living reminder of the shared histories that framed her early years. Raised daughters to think independently: Nirmala Chowhan (71) The next generation widened the definition—cautiously. Nirmala Amin Chowhan, raised in a traditional South Indian home, valued education as a ticket to better living. She graduated, took up a typewriting job, and married by choice. Navigating an interfaith marriage and two cultures, she raised daughters to think independently. At 71, in her Viman Nagar apartment, she still tutors children. 'It keeps me busy and my sense of independence alive,' she says. Living life without asking for permissions constantly: Sunita Muzumdar (57) 'For me, freedom has always meant making my own decisions—living life without constantly asking for permission or fearing judgment,' says Sunita Muzumdar, 57. Knowledge has been her compass, guiding her to stand up for what she deserves. 'Society's pressures have eased, and the new generation of women no longer gives in all the time.' Sunita's perspective is shaped by the life she sees in her daughter, currently studying abroad. 'She's growing up in a world with possibilities my generation could only dream of,' Sunita says. With a husband in marketing and a daughter leading the way as a flagbearer of Gen Z independence, Sunita views the next generation as both inspiration and promise. Children asking for freedom liberated me too: Bhakti Sharma (52) For 52-year-old Bhakti Sharma, freedom arrived as a mid-life awakening. Raised in a traditional Punjabi family in Amritsar, she had wings in education but limits in opportunity. Her husband designs bomb suits for defence, but for years Bhakti did her own kind of shielding—putting her family's needs ahead of her dream to become a chartered accountant. The turning point came when her grown children asked for their freedom. 'It made me realise how much I had surrendered,' she says. At 45, she enrolled in a skills course alongside students her children's age. 'Freedom isn't about breaking away—it's about reclaiming the parts of yourself you left behind.' Today, she trains others in soft skills, helping them overcome self-doubt and step into their full potential. Make safe choices, protect yourself: Poonam Oswal (52) For Poonam Oswal, 52, Chairperson of JITO Ladies Wing, Pune, freedom isn't just a career choice or economic autonomy—it's also knowing how to protect yourself. 'If you're going out alone, learning to make safe choices is freedom. Trusting your instincts and knowing how to protect yourself gives power. Women must learn to read people, to see who is genuine and who isn't. We are in times when being naive is dangerous. Freedom now also means awareness and courage, not just independence.' Physical, mental well-being true freedom: Mona Lodha (40) Mona Lodha, 40, is one of them. 'I grew up in a home where customs prevailed, yet I knew I wanted a career,' she says. From a national rope Mallakhamb player to an interior designer and now a real estate agent, she has learned that freedom isn't always about dramatic leaps—it is the quiet power to shape your own path. She leads platforms like Inner Wheel, Rotary Club, and JITO in Pune, steering community service and national-level networking. A health crisis in her early 30s deepened her understanding of freedom. 'That experience sharpened my belief that my mental and physical well-being is the truest form of freedom—the ability to live fully and on one's own terms.' Earn own money, live my life my way: Diya Bafna (22) And for Gen Z, freedom is a completely different ballgame—louder, bolder, and unapologetically their own. At 22, Diya Bafna isn't waiting for permission—she's claiming her space with flair. A Pune-based YouTuber and influencer with over 145k Instagram followers, she makes waves across fashion, food, and finance, proving that knowledge and style can go hand in hand. 'Freedom? It's about speaking up, doing your thing, and not letting anyone tell you who to be,' she says. 'I want to make my own choices, earn my own money, and live life my way—no approvals, no judgment.' Bafna is pursuing a PG in Luxury Brand Management while completing her Certified Financial Planning certification. She earns over a lakh a month from her content, enough to fully support herself and reinvest in her ventures. 'I set my own rules—and trust me, that's liberating,' she adds. Her content isn't just lifestyle; it's influenced with intention. Diya blends financial advice with relatable stories, empowering other young women to take control of their money, careers, and choices. Over seven decades after Independence, Indian women have moved from survival to self-expression, from silence to voice, from tradition-bound roles to deliberate choices. And while each generation builds upon the gains of the last, the journey toward full freedom—especially financial freedom—is an ongoing one, empowering women not just to live, but to shape the lives they desire. (Neha Mithun Rathod is an intern with The Indian Express)
