Once closely connected through shared culture and economy, India and Pakistan's relationship was severed after Partition, creating a rift that has endured for decades. The trauma of 1947 continues to shape their national identities and the fragile geopolitics of South Asia today.

Today every August, the people of India and Pakistan collectively rejoice in their shared Independence Day—a testament to their long and arduous struggle for freedom from British colonization. Yet, for many, this celebration is marred by the memory of the traumatic event that occurred alongside it: the brutal and hasty partition of the subcontinent into Muslim-majority Pakistan and secular India in August 1947.

 

As a survivor recalls, “At midnight on 14/15 August 1947, the largest recorded forced migration began. Millions of Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs were forced to journey hundreds of miles, with many experiencing brutal violence, as the Indian subcontinent was divided into two independent nation states: Hindu-majority India and Muslim-majority Pakistan.”

 

Nasim Fatima Zubairi lost seven members of her family – her grandmother, mother, father, and four sisters and brothers were all killed. She recalls peeping through the keyhole in her house and seeing her father pray, as her two-year old brother cried in the background. She still has a scar from an attack on her head. She is the only one to survive.
 

Case Study 1: Jeet Kaur

As a third-generation Sikh migrant raised in Delhi, Partition always felt distant and abstract to Noor Anand Chawla. However, upon discovering the painful experiences of her grandparents during this tumultuous period, she decided to explore her family’s history further. She learned that her maternal grandmother had migrated with her family from Rawalpindi in West Punjab to Delhi in 1947. As violence spread through the newly created Pakistan, her grandmother’s father, a respected local bank manager, sent his wife, their eight children, including newly married daughter Jeet Kaur, and Jeet's husband to Delhi, while he stayed behind to finish his work.
 

At the train station, a group of attackers kidnapped Jeet Kaur as the family boarded the train. Her husband fled, and the siblings tried to create an uproar but to no avail. There were so many families in the train suffering a deep loss, that the cries of children went unnoticed.
 

A year later, Jeet was spotted by a family friend. He reported that Jeet had converted to Islam, married a local man, and was expecting a child. Instead of welcoming the news, Jeet’s mother, declared her dead to protect the family’s honour. The rest of the family eventually accepted her as deceased. This loss left deep emotional scars, especially on the eldest brother, whose mental health deteriorated, and the younger brothers, whose anger toward Muslims became apparent in their bitter words.
 

Case Study 2: Sudershana Kumari

Sudershana Kumari, an 8-year-old Hindu girl who witnessed a massacre in her home town in Pakistan. As a young girl, Sudershana Kumari's instincts for survival were sharp. She understood that staying quiet was crucial. Any noise could have exposed her hiding place — a rooftop in Sheikhupura, where she, her mother, and others watched the violence below. "We couldn’t show our heads," she said. "If you did, you were as good as dead."
 

Her family, being Hindu, lived in an area that would soon become part of Pakistan, which was to be a Muslim-majority country. Families like hers had no choice but to flee. Now, at 78, Kumari still remembers staying silent despite going without food for three days and hearing her dog, Tom, barking for her.
 

From the roof, Kumari witnessed the murder of her uncle and his family by men armed with spears. Her uncle, a tax collector, had slowed his escape by carrying suitcases full of money. "I remember my aunt wearing white trousers," she said. "She begged, ‘Don’t kill my son, don’t kill my son.’ Then they took her daughter and pierced her with a spear. She died, just a baby, barely 1 year old."
 

As their town was destroyed, Kumari’s family scattered. She and her mother spent days hiding from mobs searching for Hindus to kill and rob. Eventually, armed men found them hiding in an attic with about 300 others.
 

They were herded to a playground where, just the day before, people had been burned alive. Bodies lay everywhere. "One dead body here, another there. All people we knew," Kumari said. "There’s Khyaliram, there’s Baleddiram."
 

Moments before they were to be killed, a cease-fire was called. Trucks arrived, and Tara Singh, a respected political and religious leader, urged the rioters through a megaphone to stop the bloodshed. His words were heeded.
 

Kumari’s family became refugees, arriving in a new land with nothing. Years later, the only physical memory she had from that time was a small box she had taken from her burning town, thinking it was for her dolls. Now, all that remains are her memories, which she writes down in poems, filling notebooks with her experiences from those years.
 

Case Study 3: Hashim Zaidi

Hashim Zaidi, a Muslim whose family fled India for Pakistan, fearing repercussions after an uncle killed a Hindu man. If Hashim Zaidi and his family hadn't left Allahabad, India, they likely wouldn't have survived the riots. His uncle, a Muslim police officer, had killed a Hindu rioter trying to break into their home.

By 1947, acts of revenge were common, and Zaidi's family wasn’t willing to take any risks. "We had no choice but to leave India for Pakistan because the rioters kept attacking," he recalled.

At around 10 or 11 years old, Zaidi traveled to Pakistan by train. The carriages were labeled to indicate which passengers carried money or valuables and which didn’t.

He recalls, "They started it and killed people just to steal from them. Those who made it to Pakistan paid with their money to save their lives."