Price of independence | By Malik M Aslam Awan

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Price of independence


MY father – Malik Ahmad Din – along with his ailing father – Malik Jalal Din – was active participant of Independence Movement.

Whenever he recalled his memories of migration towards Pakistan he could not control his sorrowful sentiments, his eyes were full of tears.

My mother Ghafoor Begum was minor at the time of journey towards Pakistan, aging near-about twelve to thirteen years.

My father and mother along with their other near and dear ones were the part of a caravan moving towards the sacred soil of Pakistan, the soil of long cherished dreams, to lead independent life on independent soil, to worship the Allah Almighty, following the teachings and message of the Last Prophet (SAWW).

The hooligans of RSS and Indian National Congress along with numerous Sikhs attacked the caravan with spears and karpans and cut the bodies of Muslims including ailing and aging elders who were not walking but creeping, the infants and their mothers and abducted young girls, whose stories cannot be enumerated, illustrated and propounded as they led a painful life with the piercing memories of the near and dear ones.

Recall for a short span of time a minor girl is forcefully snatched from her parents, leaving behind the dead bodies of her parents and brothers lying in dust and there was no one to bury these dead bodies. Crying young girls were abducted to be raped throughout their rest of life.

R.S.S rascals assassinated near about 18 lac old young and minor Muslims and abducted 95000 Muslim girls. Sikhs killed 10 lac Muslims and abducted 55000 Muslim girls to rape them throughout their rest of life.

My mother — Ghafoor Begum — was, also, abducted by Sikhs but luckily she was later on recovered by Muslim Army.

My grandfather travelled back to India and met the young and energetic Colonel of Pak Army who advised him to trace the whereabouts of his daughter and intimate him.

Luckily my grandfather succeeded to trace her and told the young Colonel who immediately raided the house where my mother was kept forcibly. Pak Army recovered her and helped cross Indian borders.

How much painful was the life of the young girls who never happened to see the face of their parents and brothers, how much miserable life they led, ever memorizing their parents and waiting a knock at the doors which were ever shut to shut down their rising hopes to meet ones who gave birth to her and let her play in their laps, never to disturb her with the fear that after her marriage would there be a soul to respect her innocent wishes and desires.

All parents harbor fears in their minds that after the marriage of their daughters, they become dependent on the mercy of another family, who don’t know that a single slight rebuke to their daughter might be much painful to her parents.

Every mother of every daughter nourishes her off-spring like princess, lest her married life be painful. Here the story is not painful but piercing the hearts.

Beyond the borders there were restless souls who never had a peaceful asleep whether there may be knock at the door and in fast asleep she might miss the knock and her parents or brothers would return assuming she is not here.

Can you feel the depth of piercing pain of a forlorn daughter who never had a comfortable asleep in the wait of her parents and near and dear ones.

Recalling the sad story we would feel unfathomable pain touching our hearts. The sad story is not ending here, it goes farther, leading the migrants to a gloomy fate.

The land of dreams have been made the land of thorns, for those who left their properties, belongings even love with soil behind them and marched bare-footed towards dream-land the land of thorns.

The migrants left their native soil to have a peaceful haven but they were ignorant of the reality that a shrewd and cunning strata of society, who don’t knew what is a principled life, would form a strong nexus to rob them of everything which they earned after traivails and hardships of life.

Robbers and snatchers were in ambush to deprive them of the fruits of independence. The ever losers remained, always, in troubled waters ever gainers became the master.

Some emerged so clever that they gained prominent positions in paper-leak examinations and came to forefront to lead the nation not by dint of professional and educational capability but using shrewed skills.

Nations move forward by dint of education, professional skills and sincere efforts. Three quarters of a century have become the part of past, of whom almost half of time we have laboured under despotic rule and half we wasted in fragile democratic mantle. The time has not gone so far behind to make us disappointed.

Courageous nations pass through worst times, don’t get disappointed, move forward incessantly with dedication, devotion and steadfastness, make en-block concerted efforts to overcome all straits, cropping up to stall their progress and ultimately attain their goal.

Let us make concerted efforts to educate our youth in the light of the teachings of Allama Muhammad Iqbal and help them climb the pinnacle of glory envisioned by the great poet of the East.

We must imbibe strong lessons from the sacrifices of our forefathers and never let our fate at the hands of decoits.

Every youth of the nation is not a follower but a leader. We will have to make hectic efforts to make the future of coming generations like a citadel never to fall down. Priceless sacrifices always entail invaluable gifts to the nation.

Independence from foreign yoke is a God-gifted blessing and we must ward off decoits and allied nexus, otherwise they will again deprive us of the blessings of Allah Almighty independence.

—The writer is a journalist, author of English Book on current affairs.

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