The Maniac (Untold stories of the borders)

                                                                                                                             Name: Yusuf Lal 

                                                                                                                            Reg: 20SJCC366   

https://in.docworkspace.com/d/sIK3s2L9BtdSagwY

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The Maniac

                                                 (Untold stories of the borders)

After receiving numerous rejections from the publisher, I was really frustrated but was inspired by the poems of James H Fassett which I had learned in my school days.

 “Standing at the foot, boys,

 Gazing at the sky,

 How can you get up, boys?

If you never try: Though you stumble oft, boys.

Never be down cast,

Try, and try boys,

You‘ll succeed At-last”

My courage was rejuvenated after recalling these charming poem, therefore I wielded my pen to create a didactic story that would appeal to wide section of readers. I heard echoes of trouble brewing in the subcontinent which was facing the trauma of partition. In the midnight of 14^thAugust 1947, millions of people were rushing across thousands of miles as Indian subcontinents was partitioned. People started identifying themselves as either Hindus or Muslim more than Indians. Some willingly or unwillingly forced to cross border. In my opinion India was not partitioned, but the Mother India gave birth to Pakistan by indirect force created by the British. Lot of trials and tribulations from refugees on both sides of the borders. There was inadequate means of transport, people heaped on trains, some fell from moving rails and rested forever, living their family is a remorseful plight and many chose to travel by foot, carrying infants and kids along with them.

After the tiresome travel from Salem to Amritsar, I was having tea at road side stall and reposed on the stool with a thought of horrible scene of thousands of people. Suddenly, I got a jolt when a person, short built clad in white kurta started talking to me, “ Sata srī akāla Tusīṁ pajāba tōṁ nahīṁ dēkhadē”(hello, you don’t look from Punjabi”) though I hail from south India but, I am familiar with most of Indian languages and well versed with Hindi. I started conversing with him. After exchange of thoughts on current situation in India, he inquired what made me travel to this part of India. I did not utter a word and got engrossed in my own thoughts. The man got me another cup of tea and inquisitively asked me, “looks like you have come here with a purpose, what it is?” I smiled at him and told him that I am writer and looking for a story. He quietly put his arm on my shoulder & asked me if I knew where I was standing? I was bit annoyed by his question & told him, I am not a lunatic, I travelled by rail, “I am in Amritsar”. The man taped on my back & told, “I meant the place where we are standing”? It is opposite a lunatic asylum, each patient here has a tragic story, converse to them, if it helps you build a story. The man also informed that lunatic who have their family members in Pakistan will be transported to Lahore, part of Pakistan. I stood baffled, it was a good thought of extracting life story of maniac. I knew though it is not easy to build communication with the inmates in asylum but, at juncture where I am there is no other alternative.

I braced up to walk into the asylum where I witnessed a typical pandemonium as if Pandora’s box is open and various viruses are flying out thick & fast around me. I was taken back by a sudden torrent which seems to drown me. I was overwhelmed and started tipping over, when the custodian of the asylum held me tight for some time to restore my equilibrium to stand upright. I was zapped, he was the same person whom I had met at the tea corner. He introduced himself as Parvinder Singh, caretaker of the asylum. Then I caught a sight of a person standing still in a corner, when I went close to him, he kept on muttering wahe guru kei Jai.  Jo bole Nihal satsri akal. I started conversing with him. After an exchange of few words from the ferocious frenzy speech, I construed that the inmate is suffering from shell shock and he kept muttering the same words.  Many a times I started conversation but he only gazed at me without muttering a word. I knew I will have to wade through many hurdles to scoop up authentic episodes of the blood curdling cataclysm from the inmate in the asylum. I went to Parvinder Singh and started asking about inmates in the asylum and the one who was standing in the corner without moving or resting. Parvinder told the person is Basant Singh whose relatives are across wagah border in Pakistan and he will be sent across the border next morning. The inmate was not bothered about Hindustan or Pakistan but, kept inquiring whether Toba Tek Singh is in Hindustan or Pakistan and seems to be unsatisfied with any response. Other inmates started calling Basant Singh, ‘Toba Tek Singh’. Parvinder went ahead with his narration, Basant Singh hails from a well to do family, he has acres of land and farming is his passion. In early life he was chief in Army and witnessed warfare during the first & Second World War and the end of the military service he wanted to return to his farming. But, he was not fit enough to work in the farm as the trauma of war kept on reverberating in his mind. Finally elders of his family hospitalized him in the lunatic asylum. In his immediate family he has wife & a daughter who used to come at least once a month to see him. But, after partition they stopped visiting this side of India. Next morning when he goes across the border, his family might visit him often. After learning about Basant Singh I gathered courage to talk to him, knowing well that he will go away the next morning. At times my life seemed to be at stake as I underwent through toil, blood & tears to extract information. I had collected enough details and started writing in a form of a story. I wanted to spend more time with Toba Tek Singh but, was destined to meet him for limited period,

Morning next day very unusual, I was in a mournful state to see insane, people who are dependent for survival have to go through this trauma. Many inmates were reluctant to leave the place to an unknown location. I instantly made my mind to travel to the border and wait for Toba Tek Singh there so he doesn’t feel lost in the new place. I was at the border, my eyes were waiting to see the inmates. The van with the people arrived finally, I saw Toba Tek Singh descending from the van, looked around and stood unstill. Supervisor & army chief ran towards him but he did not move an inch and fell down forever.

The spirit of Toba Tek singh was violent and so also massacre between divided nations. It appears the Grim reaper has been given a mandate to do his job efficiently without hindrances, as carnage at national & international level is at full swing.

Our planet earth is just at the right distance from the sun, making it possible for the existence of oxygen, breeze, rainfall, fertile soil to grow wholesome food stuff.  The galaxy has abundance of living intelligence, of which earth is a tiny spot. And we earthlings constitute only minuscule part in the universe, yet human beings have immense potentials to nurture the Mother Earth.

We should realign ourselves with nature and contribute positively to the core energy of our planet as it is hurtling through space and time.

Toba Tek Singh became a way for my success at national & international forum, this new journey as writer has given me immense appreciation & recognition.