The Persistence of Memory

by Urvashi Butalia

Sadq Khan’s father, Sajawal Khan, had been the headman of Saintha. Although Bir Bahadur’s family was the only Sikh family in a

village of Muslims, they were considered important and given respect because they were both moneylenders and shopkeepers. Sant Raja Singh was respected and trusted by the villagers of Saintha. This is how Bir Bahadur had described it when he had spoken to me earlier: The Musalmaans used to believe in us, trusted us so much . . . if a money order came for someone, no one would go to their homes to deliver it . . . [The post office] was in Thoa Khalsa and the postman would not reach people’s mail to them or get money orders to them. That was why when Musalmaans went away to work from their homes, they would give our address as the place to receive their money orders . . . My father used

to make entries in his register scrupulously . . . and then people used to come and buy their provisions out of this . . . those people trusted us so much. In return, however, the Sikhs did not extend the same kind of trust to the Muslims. They practised the customary untouchability of Hindus towards Muslims, refusing to eat anything cooked or touched by them. In Bir Bahadur’s words: If there was any function that we had, then we used to call Musalmaans to our homes, they would ea...

we would have two utensils in one corner of the house, and we would tell them, pick these up and eat in them; they would then wash them and keep them aside and this was such a terrible thing. This was the reason Pakistan was created. If we went to their houses and took part in their weddings and ceremonies, they used to really respect and honour us. They would give us uncooked food, ghee, atta, dal, whatever sabzis they had, chicken and even mutton, all raw. And our dealings with them were so low that I am...

have to give him food, they will more or less throw the roti from such a distance, fearing that they may touch th...

‘I just want to go to Saintha,’ he had said to me, ‘and take the soil of my village and touch it to my head. I need to ask their forgiveness.’ What if they will not forgive, I had asked, doubtful. ‘Of course they will,’ he said, confident, ‘after all, once you fight, what is there left but reconciliation, what is there left but forgiveness?’

‘drink water from the village well and eat in the home of a Musalmaan.’