These days, Punjab is incessantly in the news for a myriad of reasons resonating with a flood of events rising now with the 1-year farmer’s protests, which incidentally is echoing all over India and with Punjab flying all over the news, with Punjabi farmers leading the farmer protests, then with Sikhs helping Muslims during the CAA protests and COVID-19 where the Sikh community valiantly rose forth to help others, my memories rush back to Punjab, the place of half of my origins.
My grandfather from my mother’s side was Punjabi born in Hoshiarpur, the ‘Land of Saints’ home to many saints and gurus, a charming town of Hoshiarpur, now a city surrounded by rolling hills and thick forests. He later moved to Ludhiana where he was a principal of an English school in those early days, moved to Dehra Dun later on and then came back to Ludhiana where my uncle, his son lived.
Memories that I hold are lugging on to a train to Ludhiana to visit my grandparents, uncle, aunt, and cousins mostly in the chilly December winter holidays and teeming endless fun. I remember us sitting out on khatiyas under chilled starry skies around a merrily crackling fire, waving away mosquitoes, the sumptuous steaming hot mouth-watering sarso ka saag, and makki ki roti dripping with ghee warming up our souls in the frigid winter along with endless cups of hot gur and ginger tea.
I was always fascinated by the calm dignity and love of our grandparents and my grandfather though Punjabi spoke more in Urdu and English at home with my grandmother, not being Punjabi. I relished in the exuberance and care of my uncles and aunt and vibrancy and fun with cousins. I specialized in making paper boats and floating them in tiny steams, remember watching colorful bhangra dances, and listening to lively Punjabi folksongs. Those were days of peace and abundance.
One day, cousins, sisters and I wandered through an old weed-infested field and as we explored the battered territory, to our ecstasy, we found booty buried deep in the ground. I had no idea what it was as I was the youngest, and just followed what they did, but they brought home their treasure in proud mystified awe and laid it on the table. I got to learn from them that it was a shell of an old war bomb wound up with wires thrown from a fighter plane, years ago during the Indo-Pak War. Remnants of the bruises of the war still scar Punjab and many left for Canada later on in life, including my uncles and their families.
The original name of Punjab during the Vedic period was called Sapta Sindhu, and was the primary geographical extent of the Indus Valley Civilization, which was notable for advanced technologies and amenities that the people of the region had used.
Punjab is rich in natural beauty, the Land of Seven Rivers with fertile loamy soil that enables abundant harvests of crops. In early times, intermittent wars between various kingdoms were characteristic but later on, they temporarily unified under centralized Indian Empires or invading powers.
The Islamic rule in India began through a long period of the region’s history, and much of Western Punjab became a center of Islamic culture on the Indian subcontinent. An interlude of Sikh rule under the Maharaja Ranjit Singh and his Sikh Empire briefly saw traditional culture resurface, until the British annexed the region into the British Raj.
Following the end of the British colonial rule, Punjab was partitioned on religious lines – the Sikh and Hindu majority districts of East Punjab went to India, while the remaining Muslim majority districts of West Punjab went to Pakistan. My grandfather’s father’s home in Hoshiarpur along with relatives was burned alive in their homes during the horrific partition that claimed lakhs of lives and stirred rising hatred, violence and death between Hindus and Muslims.
Today, I encapsulated joys experienced in Punjab where the people are caring, open-minded, generous and hospitable, and fiercely loyal and got that whiff of old magical memories where I wished melancholically that these happy times would return, but they can’t, so I just have to go on and create new joyous times in the remaining time of today, for this is the philosophy of life.
Rita
Comments