![]() Hukum Chand, the magistrate and deputy commissioner of the district, lived in a bungalow just north of the railway bridge. The villagers have been oblivious of the British’s departure and the fact that their country has been sliced into Pakistan and Hindustan. Known for its railway station, the life in Mano Majra begins with the mail train arriving in the morning and is stilled with the departure of the goods’ train at night. “Train to Pakistan” by Khushwant Singh begins with the summer and abyss of 1947, when every place seems to be painted in red except a few villages in the remote reaches of the frontier, among which is Mano Majra, a tiny village where all three religions – Hindu, Muslim and Sikh – are living in peace. But Partition does not mean much to the Sikhs and Muslims of Mano Majra, a village on the border of India and Pakistan.” ![]() But as I turned over its last page, I felt at ease, relieved and lightened, as if a load had been lifted off my chest. ![]() Similar was the feeling when I got my hands on ‘Train to Pakistan’ by Khushwant Singh. The flashback haunts us one way or the other. Normally, when we read the literature on the partition of India, we feel despondent and low-spirited over the virulent impact it had on the lives of innumerable people.
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