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The only valuable he saved while fleeing to India in 1947

The only valuable he saved while fleeing to India in 1947
My father, Anand Prakash Bakshi as a child with his parents. Rawalpindi. (now Pakistan). Circa 1930

My father, Anand Prakash Bakshi as a child with his parents. Rawalpindi. (now Pakistan). Circa 1930 Image and Narrative contributed by Rakesh Anand Bakshi, Mumbai On October 2, 1947, during partition, my father Anand Bakshi’s family was informed that within an hour or two their Mohalla- Qutabdeen in Chityian Hattian, Rawalpindi (now Pakistan) was going to be attacked by rioters and marauders belonging to another community. My father Anand, then 17 years old, his grandparents, father, step mother & step siblings, had only minutes to grab whatever money, clothes, personal effects, they could possibly carry with them. Hundreds of others and they fled from their homes, overnight. From Rawalpindi, the family travelled to Delhi via a small Dakota Air plane, (the plane was a bonus, because my great grandfather was at the time, the Superintendent of Police of Punjab Prisons in Rawalpindi.) When the overnight displaced family reached Delhi in India, homeless and with only few valuables on them, my grandfather took stock of what everyone had managed to carry across the border. Upon seeing what my father had carried, in those moments of life threatening crisis, my grandfather was livid. Angrily he asked my father - 'Why did you not carry valuables!? What useless things have you carried with you? How can we survive without our valuables? You should have carried some valuables!’  My father had carried what he had thought were valuables, a few family photographs; and particularly those of his mother.He had lost his mother, Sumitra Bali, when he around 9 years old due to pregnancy related complications. On being yelled at, my father said to my grandfather - "Money we can earn when we find work,…

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The Opening of Gaffar Market, Delhi

The Opening of Gaffar Market, Delhi
Celebrating the opening of Gaffar Market. Delhi. 1962

Celebrating the opening of Gaffar Market. Delhi. 1962 Image and Narrative points contributed by Satish Wadhwa, New Delhi This photograph was taken by my father Jiwan Das, a photographer in Delhi, at the opening of the sparkling new Gaffar Market. My father Jiwan Das was born in 1899 in Lyallpur (now New Faisalabad in Pakistan). I am not sure how he got into the photography business but by 1914 he had opened a photography and a watch repair shop. And so he was a photographer as well as a watch smith. At that time most Photo and Watch repair shops shops were combined businesses. His image based work comprised of photographing portraits of British officers, law makers and group photographs from Lahore College and Camp College. He was also an expert hand colourist of photographs. By early 1948, with Ind0-Pakistan partition showing its terrifying face, my father Jiwan Das and his family (wife and children) migrated to Haridwar in India and I was born. When I was about two months old, my father decided to move to Delhi and he opened a Photography shop on 2878, Hardhyan Singh Road in Karol Bagh (Originally called Qarol Gardens). The shop was named Jiwan Das and Sons, Photographers and Dealers (see image). The photography business dealt with portraits, group and family photographs and with the dealership we represented photo papers of Kodak and Agfa. As we grew up, my two elder brothers and I helped with running the business - taking photographs and developing them in the dark room behind the counter. For years we continued the run the photo business along with our new ventures, but the shop saw its last days…

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A sportswoman who managed teams during the Asian Games 1982

A sportswoman who managed teams during the Asian Games 1982
My mother, Parveen Kaur. Patiala, Punjab. 1975

My mother, Parveen Kaur. Patiala, Punjab. 1975 Image and Narrative contributed by Manmeet Sahni, Maryland, USA This picture of my mother Parveen Kaur was taken at a photo studio in Patiala, Punjab after she successfully attained a first division in M.P.ed (Masters in Physical Education) at the Government college of Physical Education in Patiala. Parveen Kaur (Arora) was born in the small hill town of Mussoorie, India in 1952. The 'Arora' family originally belonged to Rawalpindi, (now Pakistan), and moved to Mussourie during the Indo-Pak partition. My grandfather S. Chet Singh was a cloth merchant and he, as was with many others, had to abandon his business and assets when they moved to India. My grandfather tried to re-establish his business in Mussoorie but it was difficult. He then decided to move to Delhi for better prospects. The family settled in the western parts of the city. He bought a small piece of land and set up a Deli shop. The business couldn't pick up the way it had in Rawalpindi, but they did manage to do reasonably well. When the family moved to Delhi, Parveen Kaur was just 11.  She was the youngest in a family of five sisters and two brothers. At the time, the family norm was that  women should get married as soon as they turns 18 or younger if an appropriate groom was found. So all my aunts (mother's sisters) got married early and none of them completed their graduation. My mother, being the youngest managed to claim her right to education. An avid sportswoman at the age of 13, she went on to represent her school for Nationals in Basketball. At the Nationals she became an…

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A Partition story from Pakistan

A Partition story from Pakistan
My Father Syed Ali Mehdi Naqvi

My Father Syed Ali Mehdi Naqvi Image and Narrative contributed by Waqar Ul Mulk Naqvi, Punjab Province, Pakistan This is the only image of my Late father Syed Ali Mehdi Naqvi I possess. He was born in 1930 in a small district called Beed then in Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. In 1960, when new states were created on the basis of linguistics, the Marathi dominant town of Beed became a part of Maharashtra. My father graduated from Usmania University, Hyderabad (now Osmania) in Masters of Persian when he was only 18, in 1949. My grandfather Hassan Naqvi was a lawyer with the High Court of the Nizam of Hyderabad at the time and also owned a lot of agricultural land in Pimpalwadi (District Beed, Now in Maharashtra). Agriculture was a big part of the family income. When Partition of India and Pakistan was announced, my grandfather was still very optimistic that Hyderabad will be declared an independent state. The Nizam of Hyderabad was very adamant about that. But the Indian Government did not comply and the Nizam had to surrender in 1948. With a lot of sorrow, and seeing no other option in a very precarious India, my grandparents along with their children were finally forced to join thousands of others and leave India in 1955. All of our assets, a house at Muhalla Qila as well as the cultivated agricultural land were left behind, abandoned. They migrated to Karachi via Bombay on a ship. With our roots, and legacies all left behind, my family had to go through a lot of hurt, disillusionment and suffering. Consequences of which can be felt till today. In my family’s words “we were simply plucked and sent into a…

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Love in time of War

Love in time of War
My Parents Ronald and Beryl Osbourne, at Kohat Pass (NW Frontier Province), Pakistan. April 1946

My Parents Ronald and Beryl Osbourne, at Kohat Pass (NW Frontier Province, now Pakistan). April 1946 Image and Narrative contributed by John Reese-Osbourne, Australia I first learned of the Indian Memory Project from an article in ‘The Australian’ of May 2011 (a News Ltd daily newspaper). After visiting the website, it occurred to me that others searching the pages might be interested in a brief glimpse of Indian Army life from the viewpoint of a British officer and his family in 1945-46. It may shed a personal light on that brief moment in time just before the watershed of Independence and the bloody shambles the politicians made of partition. This images is of my parents taken on 23rd April 1946, and it show them at the top of the Kohat Pass, near Tribal Territory. My mother is wearing a revolver!. On the back of some of these photographs, she has captioned them as ‘the gateway to 30 miles of tribal territory’. My father Ronald Osborne was born in Wales in 1910 and worked as sales manager in London for Geo. Wimpey & Co., then a large builder of houses. He volunteered for the British Army in 1939 just before universal conscription was introduced. He served initially with the Royal Engineers and fought in the abortive Norway campaign before undergoing commando training and going on the far more successful Lofoten Islands raid to destroy an oil refinery held by the German forces. Selected for officer training, he found that the pay in the Indian Army was higher than in the British forces and chose to be commissioned into the Royal Indian Army Service Corps, serving in the North African and…

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