Preamble

Ninety-five years ago, on 2^nd September 1926, our saintly grandfather, Bhai Hira Singh Ji passed away at an early age of 46. Ever since then, we observe this date as a remembrance day. Until the partition of Punjab, our family used to organize a ‘prayer meet’ in our ancestral house in Farooka, District Sargodha. But after we migrated to India, we used to call friends over for ‘kirtan’ and ‘ardas’. After the demise of our respected father, Maj Balwant Singh Ji in 2004, we brothers have been getting together and writing a piece and post it on the website. With the passing away of our youngest brother, Brig Surinder, the onus of offering a tribute to our ancestors has fallen on me. May the Lord grant me the strength to do justice to this family obligation.

A Brief Introduction to Farooka (Punjab)

Farooka is about 35 kilometres to the West of Sargodha, as the crow flies. Until the end of the nineteenth century, it was a thinly populated backward village in a desert area. However, since it is situated between two rivers, Jhelum and Chenab, the sub-soil water was not very deep, and therefore, wells could provide enough drinking water. The land was very cheap since the crops were entirely dependent on the unpredictable and scanty winter rain. In 1873, a British engineer proposed a system of canals that were dug during the next five decades. For those who may like to get a general perspective its location and climate, some maps are given below.

 

Here, you see Farooka, between the Rivers Jhelum and Chenab

This is the map of Pakistan. Farooka is about 35 km to the west of Sargodha

 

This is the climate classification of Pakistan. Farooka falls in the red, ‘warm desert climate’

 

This shows ‘Humidity Comfort Levels’. In summer, Farooka was either ‘oppressive’ or ‘miserable’

 

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OUR LAST VISIT to FAROOKA in June 1947

A bit of Family History

Our father joined the Army in Dec 1942, and for the next four years, he served in East Bengal and Burma. His last posting was to Maymyo, and from there, he was given a ‘home posting’ to Jhelum, since that was the nearest military station, from his hometown. Since he had a lot of ‘field service seniority’ he was allotted a house immediately after he joined, and we shifted to a huge bungalow, on the bank of the river in January 1947. On 7 Jun, our mother’s younger sister, Masi Agya passed away in a childbirth tragedy. We rushed to Farooka which was no more than a few hours of journey. Pitaji went back the very next day, but we brothers stayed back for a couple of weeks.

 Given below is a picture of the four of us, as we looked then. I was six and Surinder was three.

 

The ‘foursome’ Surinder, self, Manmohan and Manjit in Nov 1946

 

Even though I was only six, my memory of that visit is very vivid. It is aided by the discussions which I have had with our eldest brothers, who often drew sketches to help me in recalling the events. Our house was known as ‘Makaan’. It was situated just next to the School founded by our grandfather, and I am tempted to share with you the sketch made by our brother, a few months before his demise in Dec 2019.

 

A sketch of our ‘Makaan’ It had many rooms and a long verandah. But it neither had a kitchen, nor any toilet. Water had to be drawn out of a well, located within the house

The furniture

As far as I can tell, there was no sofa-set since there was no ‘drawing room’ in the house. I do not recollect any chair, either. The cots were made of bamboo and jute and we had lots of little stools to sit on. At a rough count, there were about fifteen rooms. Here is what the furniture looked like:

 

 

The ‘charpoys’ needed regular tightening. But they were light and could be easily taken to the terrace, where we slept all through the summer.

 

This was a typical ‘seat’ offered to the guests

 

And this was a fancy ‘chauki’ to sit down on. It had no backrest.

 

A Snapshot of our Lives

As I have mentioned above, there was no electricity; no toilet and no running water. How then did we cope with the heat? As far as I can remember, even though we had come from Jhelum, where we had the ‘luxury of having electric lights and fans, I do not remember having missed the comforts of the town. Life was extremely simple. We were woken up long before the day broke. As soon as we got out of the beds, we were told to go to the fields near the house for ablutions. We carried a mug of water to wash our bottom. On the way, we broke a tender twig from a ‘keekar’ tree to brush our teeth. In return, we went to the well where an elder pulled out a bucket of water for us to bathe. That done, we were ready for the morning meal. The women got busy milking the buffaloes. The fuel for cooking was a combination of wood, coal and cow dung. Men who worked in the fields went very early. During the daytime, the only way to beat the heat was to sit under a shady tree.

 

If there was a light breeze, this was better than the best air-conditioner!

 

Indeed, if the breeze died down, people used handheld fans to air themselves Here is a picture of the kinds of fans used.

 

 

Hand-held fans, called ‘pankhis’

At the upper end of the social spectrum, there were aristocrats, who had installed manually operated ceiling fans that were pulled by a ‘punkha man’. Given below is a picture of this luxury, available to the elite of society.

 

The ultra-rich had installed ceiling fans which were pulled by a ‘pankha-man’ sitting outside.

 

Since there was no Television, mobile phone or computer, people talked to each other.  Such conversation was known as ‘guftagu’ in Urdu. The affairs of the world beyond Sargodha were of no interest to a large majority of the people. Very few of them took the trouble of reading newspapers. Words like ‘pollution’  ‘traffic jams’ and ‘hacking’ had not yet been coined. And if we wanted to hear a song, one just asked someone to sing. Nearly everyone knew our folk songs which were full of life and zest.

If we wanted to know the meaning of a word or needed the answer to any question, we turned to our elders and accepted whatever we were told. In Farooka, we neither had a Police Station nor a Hospital.  No one missed them! 

 

The evening routine began long before the sunset. The ‘charpoys’ were carted to the roof, through a simple process of raising them from the ground floor with a man pulling them up. The evening meal was served soon after the sunset, and we all slept looking at the stars. As children, we were taught how to identify the pole-star, and the importance of the true North, as a direction. I am not sure how many of our younger generation have the ability to do that now. Here is what the night sky looks like, with the polar bear.

 

The seven stars configuration and the ‘North Star’ known as ‘Dhruv Tara’ in India

 

As I look back, we were there just two months before the partition. But even a detailed reading of the diaries of our father does not contain any reference to riots or even communal tension. Our family had lived in Farooka for at least seven generations. Our centenarian great grandfather, Bapu Bhag Singh Ji (1844-1947) had passed away just two months before, in April 1947. He lived a long and healthy life, without having to turn to the current form of complex health care. He had a graphic memory and could recount the names of his forefathers: Baba Jeevan Singh, Baba Chanan Sing and Baba Devi Das. All of them were born and died in Farooka. The Village headman was a Muslim known as Allah Yaar Kalyar. All three communities lived in perfect harmony. The mechanics of the partition and the transfer of population will remain a mystery for most of us.

 

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Part Two- FAROOKA NOW

An unfulfilled Dream

Our father remained in touch with his Muslim friends in Farooka all through his life. We maintained that link, and I have been speaking to the grandson of Allah Yaar. His name is Fateh Mohammed Kalyar, and he has been keeping me informed about Farooka. It seems that the tiny little village has grown into a city, with a population of over 100,000. The school founded by our revered grandfather continues to be a landmark in the city. They now have several schools, two colleges, at least four markets and several hotels. The Kalyar family donated a large tract of land to build a Hospital.

I received a 24-minute long video recording of Farooka. It being rather long, I requested Ashwani to edit the recording and extract three clippings out of it.  These are as follows:

A video of the School established by Bhai Hira Singh Ji in 1906. It was the only High School outside Sargodha at that time. A boarding house was created for fifty students. Poor children were provided free boarding and lodging and charged no tuition fee.

A clip of the Hospital built on the land donated by the Kalyar family. The greenery in the precincts is a treat for the eyes.

A view of the markets. You cannot fail to notice that most people in Farooka wear traditional clothes, and very few women venture out into the markets. It is also evident that animal transport is quite common though there is a significant number of cars.

 

The song chosen to embellish this video is the well-known poem written by  Allama Iqbal, which says,

‘Lab pe aati hai dua banke tamanna meri…’ rendered as a chorus in a soulful voice.

 

 The Tailpiece

It was so hot that one could not step out during the daytime. I remember that one day when I was asked by an elder to go and fetch some ‘rotis’ from the ‘tandoor’ at the far end of the courtyard, I ran on my toes to save the skin of my feet. There was no electricity, and yet no one complained. Today, if the power goes off even a few minutes, we start creating a ruckus.

We were no more than two months away from the earth-shattering partition. But no one talked about it. It was generally believed, that no matter what happened elsewhere, Farooka would remain peaceful. We were told that the village headman had assured our elders that no harm would come to us. He did ensure that even though we had to leave in a hurry, there was no physical violence.

 

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Voh Kaagaz ki kishti, vo baarish ka paani…

We have come a long way since 1947. The world has moved miles ahead. We have travelled all over the world and half of our family has migrated to the land of the white man. Yet, we are in real-time touch with our friends and relatives on the other side of the globe. But I can not forget our last visit to Farooka. I have a vivid memory of the puddles that were often formed near the well after our bath. Surinder and I used to sail paper boats in those little pools of water. I want to go back there!