Jagat Singh (Jagga) , went near the track and slowly started climbing the ladder. He reached the top, where the rope was tied to stop the train from going to Pakistan. Jagga holded himself firmly, took out the knife from the back and slowly started cutting the rope.
“’Arre, who’s there?’ , cried a policeman tracing a man cutting rope. ‘Abbe ghade neeche aa, marega saale…’
But Jagat Singh was unfazed and kept on cutting the rope. He heard the siren of train coming from a distance.
‘Come down, or I shoot, u idiot’.
Seeing no response from the man, the policeman fired, the bullet entered jagga, but he kept going. The Thola fired again, bullet found the target this time as well. But this man, Jagga, looked in some sort of ‘junoon’ , he placed both his legs firmly on the rope, and started cutting rope even faster. He heard the sound of train coming closer; he has almost finished cutting the rope. He was convinced that now the train will find its way safe to Pakistan, and so will be his love Noora, and the lil baby who was yet to arrive in this world.
The policewalla fired again, and the bullet went in as mercilessly as ever, the sound of train came further close, jagga fell down on the track, the train passed over him and went to all the way to Pakistan…….
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(Above is slightly abridged form of the last page of novel, Its best of what I can remember, pls do not judge its acute authenticity , as I read the novel quite some time back..)
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Of all what I have heard and read on partition, this is easily one of the best artistic commentary I have come across. The massacre that went past lives of multi million ppl , was a dark phase in the history of both countries, and its after effect are still visible in the Kashmir valley.
The partition of country forced millions of ppl to leave their homelands, and shift across the partition lines. Entire families were forced to abandon their land for resettlement to Muslim Pakistan and Hindu India. Travelers clogged the roads on carts, on foot, but mostly on trains, where they perched precariously on the roofs, clung to the sides, wherever grasping fingers could find purchase. The mid way caused a lot of tension – both hindus and muslim turned against t each other, resulting in lost of man, money and …relations.
The novel is set in1947 in Mano Majra, a small Punjab community along the border, which was untouched by the religional tension that were gradually emerging from the news of partition of the country. Everything was calm, serene and going well, until one day, the ’ghost train’ arrives - a silent, incredible funeral train loaded with the bodies of thousands of refuges. That changes the ‘fiza’ of the village, and its impact and consequences thereafter, has been described effectively in the novel.
Parallel follows the story of a Sikh boy, Jagat Singh (Jagga) and a Muslim girl, Noora, whose love endures and transcends the ravages of war. Singh has shown Love winning over communal hatred, which is confirmed, when in the end , Jaaga, a Sikh, ‘goonda’ by profession, gives his life to save her Muslim lover Noora, so that she could safely pass through Pakistan.
Between are various characters like Iqbal Singh, the Western-educated Communist trying to bring about a Socialist Revolution in the village. Then there is the Daroga, who’s a practical man, has seen lot of killing already, and know the stupidity behind it. He knows that massacre in this situation is inevitable, but confirms to minimize the same as far as possible form his end.
The Sardar deserves full applauses for presenting a sensitive subject in a firm, griping and entertaining way. Although there is a constant trademark humor – both direct and implied, in the novel, that does not let one deviate from the core background of partition.
Train to Pakistan’s greatest triumph is the dialogue - with liberal doses of Punjabi and Hindustani, and appearing to be translated from the Urdu or Punjabi. The effect - an air of authenticity about every word uttered. Singh writes convincingly. He doesn’t waste words, he doesn’t mince them. Every character is firmly etched out; the descriptions are vivid; the emotions are real; the writing is objective and evocative. Khushwanth Singh’s writing has a picturious flow, u can virtually see the novel - You can hear the sound of the train, you can smell the monsoons, you can see the village - alive in all its rural glory, and can feel he pinch of depth f each and every character. One empathizes with each one of his characters - each one of them seems real.
For someone belonging to a generation of Indians who haven’t experienced at first or second hand the horrors of the partition, this is an eye-opener.
Its pity to see, many ppl still carrying the hard feeling within them and transferring it to next generation. What’s done is done, and cant be undone, but what’s to be done is something, I fell, requires to be think here from. Two wrongs have never made a right, the sooner we accept it the better. Rather than spending billions in war and promotion of communalism, its better that we learn lessons from the history then to keep on transferring the stereotype Anti Indo-Pak Philosophy- nothing will come out of nothing.
‘Jism Jala hai jahan, dil bhi jal gaya hoga,
Kuraedate ho jo raakh ko, joostaju kya hai ?’