Kashmere Gate & the Partition Museum
Both sites are significant, but for different reasons.
A conversation provided the trigger.
Almost a month back, I met a bunch of old friends for lunch. We got talking and reminiscing. Reminiscing is a widespread human pastime. This way, we talk about our youth, relive it, apply selective amnesia to certain aspects of the past, and, for brief moments, imagine we are in the prime of youth, with the world within our grasp. After reviving old memories, we turned to other topics, and one lady in the group spoke about the Partition Museum in Delhi. There is one in Delhi and one in Amritsar at the site of the Jallianwala Bagh. Jallianwala Bagh is where Gen Dyer opened fire in April 1919 on unarmed people who had gathered there to protest the Rowlatt Act and to celebrate Baisakhi, one of our festivals. It's been years since my visit to Jallianwala Bagh once, but I remember the bullet holes in the walls of the old garden, which aroused deep emotions in me.
I visited the place a few weeks after she told me about the Partition Museum at the Dara Shikoh Library. My last visit to that area was five years back, and I will visit again when the weather cools. It's too hot now. Climate scientists and the India Meteorological Department have promised a hotter summer than last year. Considering last year's dubious record of being the hottest year ever recorded, I can do without such gloomy prospects.
My Last Visit to Dara Shikoh's Library
I visited the Dara Shikoh Library about five years back. In the past, Dr. B.R. Ambedkar College took the library to its premises. When I visited five years back, there was nothing in the library: a cavernous, empty hall. The old emptiness may have given rise to the old ghost stories associated with the library building. One girl at the reception told me about the ghost stories and suggested I ask one of the old guards to verify their veracity. The old geezer burst into laughter when I queried him, eyes gleaming. "Ah, these young kids and their imagination," is all he said. Then, we spoke of the alleged ghosts in Salimgarh (in the Red Fort), a place where many prisoners died.
Children of The Partition
I am a child of The Partition, and the events move me. The Partition (or "Batwara" in Hindi) was a bitter pill for most of us living in the Punjab and Bengal. While the wise old men of India (Jinnah, Nehru, Sardar Patel, Gandhi) must share significant blame, the real criminals were the British and Mountbatten. I won't talk much about the Partition here, or I will rant in anger. Half of the Punjab went to West Pakistan (now Pakistan) in 1947. Half of Bengal went to East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) in 1947. Lord Curzon divided Bengal in 1905 to create divisions among people and to keep British power.
Partition, which forms part of the British collective amnesia, was one of the biggest disasters on the subcontinent. My home state, Punjab, and also Bengal, were the worst affected. My father's family lost everything when we came across the border. It is only because of the kindness of a Pakistani friend, who sent people one thousand kilometers from Karachi to my father's old home, that my father saw a video of his old home before he died.
I detest politicians. Humans want to build bonds with each other. Politicians will divide people and orchestrate massacres to stay in power. Reflect on the events taking place in Palestine.
Inside the Museum. A Photo of People in the Trains.
The guidelines forbid photography inside the Museum, but I sneaked in two photographs of people traveling by train across the border to reach "India" and "Pakistan." When I saw these images, my thoughts traveled to my late father-in-law, who had traveled in such conditions to reach "India" and start a new life. He was lucky: he lived to tell the tale. Many did not get to the other side. Trains arrived filled with massacred bodies, blood seeping from the doors. Most people who witnessed the Partition speak little of the events: the memories are too painful. I own a book, "Punjab Bloodied," by Ishtiaq Ahmed, filled with stories and conversations with people of the era. Many could not sleep in peace and longed for death. Memories of what they witnessed and their deeds continued to overwhelm them until they died. I read the book several years back but don’t yet have the courage to read it again: the emotions run too deep.
1947. The Rupture.
The Partition ripped communities' friendships and shredded shared memories and camaraderie without mercy. The Partition ripped generations of shared stories, laughter, tears, music, celebrations, and support with a brutality that we should remember in sadness without bitterness. The Partition was a brutal rupture from the past, and I do not believe we can undo the damage. We can create fresh stories and new traditions and reach out to our brethren across the border. After all, we are from the same soil. In Hindi, Hindavi, Punjabi, Urdu, or Persian, we'd use variations of the line: "hum to ek hi maati ke hain." We are from the same mud/soil, but a literal translation cannot capture the phrase's dimensions and layers.
For me, the question remains: will I be able to visit the homes of my ancestors in Sargodha and Lahore? Will jingoistic and hateful politicians of both countries continue to seep poison into our relationships and shared cultural heritage?
I am glad the Delhi government founded the Museum at the Dara Shikoh Library Building. Dara Shikoh was the Mughal Emperor, Shah Jahan's favorite son. When Shah Jahan fell ill, he bid for the throne along with his other brothers. Shah Jahan recovered, but the battle for the throne continued. The third son, Aurangzeb, was victorious and became king. He then executed and exiled his brothers. Most of us criticize Aurangzeb, and modern politicians revive distorted versions of his history to stay in power.
I am glad they housed the Museum in what they now call the "Dara Shikoh Library and Cultural Centre." First, we are now using the building for good purposes. Second, in doing so, they honor his memory as a person interested in all religions: this interest was one reason for his undoing.
Aurangzeb and the Crutch.
Aurangzeb died in 1707 CE, but our politicians need him to stay in power. Without him, they'd lose their crutch and break their noses on the hard wall of truth. No one wants the truth. They want a distorted version of the truth. Our politicians today are excellent students of Goebbels!
Kashmere Gate
I walked to the Partition Museum from Kashmere Gate metro station. Kashmere Gate is one of the surviving gates of the old capital, Shahjahanabad, of Emperor Shah Jahan. He constructed the Red Fort and Shahjahanabad between 1639 CE and 1649 CE. Kashmere Gate is on the northern side of the Walled City of Delhi and points toward Kashmir.
The Uprising of 1857-58
Kashmere Gate was the site of a major battle of the Great Uprising of 1857-58. Western scholars call it "The Great Indian Mutiny." Yes, it started as a sepoy mutiny, but it was an uprising of the various kingdoms of North India against the East India Company. It was not India's first war of independence, even though some nationalist writers like to refer to it as such. Neither was it "The Great Indian Mutiny": this name is rubbish.
After The Great Uprising, India became a British colony, and the Viceroys followed a policy of dividing Hindus and Muslims, changing "India" forever. The tragedy is that our politicians continue the old British divide-and-rule policy.
Kashmere Gate is a few hundred meters from Kashmere Gate metro station. The guard there was clueless about its historical significance. You enter via a gate and face the interior section of the structure. The rebels' forces had taken Delhi and forced the last Mughal Emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, to be the face of the Uprising. Even though the Emperor's dominion had dwindled and did not allow him to govern the Red Fort, the House of Timur was of great spiritual importance to the people of Hindustan (or Al-Hind, the old Arabic name).
I stood where the rebel forces fought, then walked through the Gate to the side where the Company forces waged battle in their attempt to breach the defenses. The plaque on both sides is different–one honoring the rebels and the other, the Company's men. When Delhi fell, the Uprising petered out. It continued in places like Jhansi and Lucknow, but its spirit slowly died. Buses stand outside the structure's perimeter, and people dump rubbish sacks inside the Gate. How do you stand in such a place and visualize one of India's great battles?
History and the escape.
If we don't respect our history, no one will. We can whine as much as we wish, but it is a wasted effort. The guard at the Gate was clueless about the battle, and when I related the tale, he looked at me with bulging eyes like a goldfish out of water. I met two young men at the exterior section of the Gate, one inebriated beyond measure. He didn't give a damn about the Gate or its history.
"Who cares," he said. "I only want to leave India and find a good life outside." Maybe he will take the Donkey Route (I think this is what they call it) to another country.
I will end this post here. When I revisit the area after October, I will explore the area in more detail. I want to photograph the brick structures of The Kashmere Gate, the remaining sections of Shah Jahan's Wall, a few British graves, Skinner's Church, and a few batteries (memories of The Uprising).
This will be part of my book, video, and blog project on "Mughal Delhi." Stay tuned. I will try to tone down the emotional outbursts!
For this blog post, I used images shot with my OnePlus 10G Pro and edited them using Snapseed.
Loved every second of this, Rajiv. Brilliant, potent post. I am keenly lookng forward to more content from your project on "Mughal Delhi". Regards.
Super as usual! Fully enlightenment! I could never got this at all