Saumya Shah takes the ‘Pinjar’ story two decades ahead

Twenty three years had passed. Hameeda woke up with the same dream about the day when Rashid had kidnapped her on horseback. The dream often haunted her. But it had stopped being a nightmare 21 years back when she had given birth to their daughter Zoya. She found solace in finding Rashid sleeping peacefully next to her every time she was woken up by the dream. Sometimes she just smiled at the irony of it.

She was lying on the same bed which was destined to be hers even before she was kidnapped. The Sheikhs (Rashid’s family) had taken back all the property from the Sajjadis who had seized Ramchand’s haveli and farms once they had left the village to move to India. The Sheikhs were more affluent and their social standing in village was a major contributor to that. They felt entitled to the property only when Lajjo had requested Rashid to take back her father’s land. Her father, who she had found later, was burnt alive by the same Sajjadis in the name of Pakistan and Islam. Lajjo, who had been captured and enslaved by them in her own house, had asked for one last favour from Rashid.

Hameeda couldn't sleep. Twenty three years and she would still go back in time and revisit the first meeting that she had with her father after the time when he had shut doors of his haveli on her and asked her to return to her kidnappers. Her father had come to Rattowal to visit her in the final month of her pregnancy. It was not the safest time for an Indian Sikh to cross border and come to Pakistan but her father took the chance. He bribed a few patrolling officers to escort him safely. Her father had fallen to his knees on her doorstep, begged her forgiveness. She had tried to lift him up to his feet, but instead, she dropped down next to him and both had cried inconsolably. It was Rashid who got her some water and stopped her. He had been extremely caring about her health ever since he knew that Hameeda was carrying again. Rashid had even picked her father up and asked for forgiveness. Her father did not have many words of forgiveness though. Deep down, both knew how equally responsible and guilty they were for Puro’s fate.

Puro had chosen to be Hameeda when she chose her fate for the first time in Lahore. She had the opportunity to go back to Amritsar and start a new life with Ramchand. But she had chosen Rashid. Her life until then had been based on decisions of her father, Rashid, village heads who had decided to take away the madwoman’s child that Puro was raising or the government, which decided which country she is a part of and separated her from her family by the stroke of a pen. She often debated her own self, unsure about her decision.

Some nights she wondered how her life would have been in Amritsar with her family and Ramchand. Her family had accepted Lajjo, they would have accepted her too. She had chosen Rashid because he had earned her respect. She still wasn’t sure if he had earned her love. It didn’t happen overnight. It’s not atypical of an Indian woman to adapt to and accept her husband’s life, family, culture as her own and establish that as her way of life.

It had been 21 years since she had given birth to her daughter. She had named her Zoya—meaning alive, life and joyous, loving and caring. Nobody could understand the essence of

the name like Hameeda. She didn’t want her daughter’s spirit to be captured and caged. The first night when she put Zoya to sleep, with Rashid laying next to Zoya, Hameeda could never be surer of the decision that she had made. That night, she put all her doubts to rest, forever.

Hameeda had stepped on the Indian soil for the very first time since Partition and a lot had changed in those seven years. Streets in Amritsar were rebuilding after all the riots at the time of Partition. She saw many new faces in the city, and noticed many old ones missing. She wondered what had happed to them, but she knew the answer to the question. Madness! She thought it was truly Pinjar for religion.

Hameeda was there at the time of Baisakhi. Zoya was with her as well. It was her first time in India. Hameeda was overwhelmed to meet her family after 7 years. Trilok had become member of Congress and gotten a job with the government. Trilok and Lajjo had a 5 year old daughter whom they had named Puro. Rajjo had a 7 year old son too. Ramchand had gotten married to Janaki, the girl who had run away from the camp and Hameeda had rescued. Seven years and they had still not been able to locate her family. Her youngest brother was an eight year old school going boy who aspired to give speeches for his profession. Hameeda was touched by the innocence of it. Hameeda could see the thrill on Zoya’s face when she met her cousins for the first time. Hameeda would never forget this trip. It was her reunion with the people and the country that she had lost.

It was 5 o’clock in the morning when she woke up with the same dream. She knew she had a long day ahead. It was the day of Zoya’s marriage. Unlike Puro on her wedding day, Zoya was much thrilled about it. Zoya was to marry Iqbal, the eldest son of their neighbour, whom she had grown up with. His was from a respected family in Rattowal and Iqbal was a doctor of bones. Hameeda could not remember the word for that doctor though. Zoya was marrying him by choice and that was all that mattered to Hameeda. Hameeda could not say the same about Maahir. He was only three years younger to Zoya but always acted like the older brother, over-protective of his sister. Maahir showed how happy he was for his ‘Behena’ but everyone knew who was going to be most heartbroken once Zoya would leave. She had assured him that she is only moving to the house next door and she would still wake him up each morning. But both knew the better truth. Hameeda would often see glimpses of Trilok and Puro in her children and would get more than overwhelmed.

Hameeda was half way through her life in which she was alive. She didn’t know what future would hold for her and her family, but one thing she knew for sure was she would never settle for anything lesser than Freedom for her people.