Latest news with #Partition
Indian Express
20 hours ago
- Politics
- Indian Express
‘Nationalist history presents India as this ancient thing called Bharat Varsha, with geography from the Mahabharata that remained constant. But the British were conquering random territories based on economic sense, not Indianness': Sam Dalrymple
Sam Dalrymple is in the United Kingdom when we speak, where he will be based until October. It is a fitting location from which to reflect on Shattered Lands (Harper Collins; 536 pages; ₹799), his ambitious debut on the British Empire's afterlives, which traces five partitions that dismantled what was once known as the Indian Empire. From Burma's separation in 1937 to the creation of Bangladesh in 1971, Dalrymple reconstructs the imperial geography, one where Indian rupees circulated in Dubai, Yemeni Jews carried Indian passports, and loyalty to the Viceroy stretched from Aden to Assam. A Delhi-raised Scottish, Dalrymple, 28, studied Persian and Sanskrit at the University of Oxford. He also speaks Hindi and Urdu fluently. His work spans media — print, film, and virtual reality with projects exploring migration, memory, and the afterlives of empire. If the surname rings familiar, it is not incidental. He is the son of historian William Dalrymple, one of the most prominent chroniclers of South Asia's early modern past. In this conversation with The Indian Express, Dalrymple speaks about erased borders, nationalist cartographies, Jinnah's contradictions, and advice from his father. Edited excerpts: The key moment was visiting Afghanistan's Bamiyan Buddhas at 16. But the real inspiration was Project Dastaan, founded with friends at Oxford. We noticed Indians and Pakistanis mingled freely abroad unlike Israelis and Palestinians, yet could not visit each other's homelands. We used Virtual Reality to reconnect Partition-separated families. One man, Iqbal, wanted to find his Hindu friend Narendra Singh, who had preserved their ancestral mosque amid horrific violence. We found Narendra's family in Mohali near Chandigarh. Though Narendra had passed, his widow immediately suggested they all vacation together. My co-founder Sparsh Ahuja's family was saved during Partition riots by Muslim neighbours in what is now Pakistan. When we visited, he heard for the first time their side of the story — how they hid his family in their barn when mobs came looking for Hindus to kill. Project Dastaan showed me how Partition severed connections that persisted despite official hostility. Reconnecting families made me want to explore how these borders came to be – not just 1947 but all the partitions that shattered the Indian Empire. The way that India is defined by the British is very clearly laid out in the Interpretation Act of 1889: that everything ruled and governed under the Viceroy will be defined as part of India. This includes both directly ruled British India as well as the princely states and protectorates: all these maharajas, nawabs, sultans and sheikhs who had handed over their foreign policy and defence to the Indian government, though they ranged from being internally completely independent to having significant state involvement like Jaipur. States such as Bhutan and Sikkim were very much internally independent with only minor British interference. The definition was simply the territories inherited by the East India Company. Everything ruled by the East India Company in 1858 was nationalised by the Crown, though random distant territories such as Hong Kong and Singapore were separated within the first few years. What's remarkable is that this vast swathe from Yemen to Burma was given Indian passports. In the book, I've included a picture of an Indian passport given to a Yemeni Jewish woman who wanted to migrate to Mandate Palestine after the Balfour Declaration. To think that in order to migrate from Yemen you had to get an Indian passport is bizarre. The way nationalists have written history presents India as this ancient thing called Bharat Varsha, with geography from the Mahabharata that remained constant. But the British were just conquering random territories based on economic sense, not on 'Indianness'. Gandhi and other nationalists were certain independent India should stretch from Sindh to Assam, but when Gandhi went to Burma he argued for its separation. Hindu nationalists from the Mahasabha said Arabian states shouldn't be part of India because Arabia was a separate civilisation. Modern India traces its origins to this Bharat idea that excludes places the British conquered but nationalists don't consider part of India. Also, Yemen and Burma have been racked by civil war, their archives often burnt, so few historians have looked into them. In the Gulf, historian James Onley discovered that 99 per cent of Qatar's history is kept in the Bombay archives. He wrote The Arabian Frontier of the British Raj (2007) because these areas never appeared on maps of British India – it was always kept somewhat secret. Of all the characters, Jinnah was the most surprising and complex. In the 1920s, he was considered the ambassador of Hindu-Muslim unity — Sarojini Naidu gave him a trophy with that title. He married 'Rutti', a much younger Parsi woman, believing in interfaith marriage, but she was ostracised by her community. This disillusioned him about India moving past religious boundaries. Later, as a leading Congressman, he was overshadowed by Gandhi and Nehru who treated him poorly. We're used to the Jinnah of the 1940s, but in the 1920s he was a secular man who ate pork, drank whiskey, and had a Parsi wife. His transformation into the founder of the first Islamic republic is fascinating. In 1946, he accepted the Cabinet Mission Plan where Pakistan would exist as a province within a united India — like countries within the United Kingdom today. It is fascinating to think how much bloodshed could have been avoided had this gone through. Gandhi and Jinnah ultimately pulled out of this idea. It was Hindu nationalism, Muslim nationalism — all of them. But Hindu nationalists wanted a nation resembling Bharat Varsha. The idea of Bharat Mata is key to why Burma and Arabia were separated. Nationalist maps of Bharat Mata never included these areas. The British, seeing India might soon be independent, considered separating these regions to maintain economic control, knowing nationalists didn't want them. Fascinatingly, there were nationalists in Burma and Yemen who saw themselves as Indian and wanted to remain part of India, but figures such as Mahatma Gandhi pushed against this. U Ottama, a Burmese Buddhist monk who became Savarkar's predecessor in the Hindu Mahasabha, argued that Burma was part of Bharat and that Buddhism was part of Hinduism, but was booed down at Mahasabha meetings and eventually resigned. He actually pushed me to write this as a book. Originally it was a documentary project with National Geographic, but when Covid hit and we could not film, he suggested turning it into a book. He read two drafts – one after my first draft and one before final submission. But my mother was the real editor-in-chief, reading everything meticulously. My father's work focuses on medieval through early modern history, while mine relies heavily on oral histories, techniques I learned from mentors such as Aanchal Malhotra and Kavita Puri who specialise in Partition testimonies. That said, I owe my historical interest to him dragging me around Rajasthan's hill forts, Bengal's delta, and Kerala's theyyam dancers since childhood. I've lived in Delhi for 22 years because he moved us here. I do not see them in conflict at all. Globally, academic historians do research while others popularise it accessibly. My book uses sources in eight languages from multiple archives, as rigorous as any academic work, but written for general readers. It reveals new research like Burma and Dubai's separation from India. Good popular history like films about Rome builds on scholarship. The distinction is when popular works lack footnotes or obscure sources — but you can absolutely write academically rigorous history for the public. Aishwarya Khosla is a journalist currently serving as Deputy Copy Editor at The Indian Express. Her writings examine the interplay of culture, identity, and politics. She began her career at the Hindustan Times, where she covered books, theatre, culture, and the Punjabi diaspora. Her editorial expertise spans the Jammu and Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, Chandigarh, Punjab and Online desks. She was the recipient of the The Nehru Fellowship in Politics and Elections, where she studied political campaigns, policy research, political strategy and communications for a year. She pens The Indian Express newsletter, Meanwhile, Back Home. Write to her at or You can follow her on Instagram: @ink_and_ideology, and X: @KhoslaAishwarya. ... Read More
The Hindu
21 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
100 years of Krishen Khanna
When I first met Krishen Khanna in early 2001, the clean-shaven gentleman in a sharp waistcoat hardly looked like an artist. I was used to most in the community outfitted in kurta-jholas and, in the case of Khanna's contemporary M.F. Husain, walking barefoot, with his beard and unruly white hair in tousled glory. In contrast, Khanna was cut from a different stock. He started off as a banker at Grindlays Bank, but was always attracted to art. He would attend the Progressive Artists' exhibitions and meetings in the late 1950s and early 60s. Finally, in 1961, he quit his job to pursue art full-time. Stories are still told about how, on the last day, when he stepped out of the bank, he found his friends V.S. Gaitonde, Husain, and Bal Chhabda, waiting outside to celebrate his new life. Stationed in Mumbai till 2010, Khanna moved to Delhi-Gurugram to live with his son. Over the years, in the lovely farmhouse — with his wife Renu, 98, as his constant companion — his studio filled with artworks and memorabilia from the period that is often seen as the golden years of the Progressive Artist's Group. 'It was a wonderful time to be an artist, and frankly I could not see myself doing anything else,' recalls the last surviving member of the group — which comprised iconic names such as F.N. Souza, S.H. Raza, Husain, K.H Ara, S. Bakre, Akbar Padamsee, and Tyeb Mehta. And Khanna, who turns 100 on July 5, continues to add to this collection, sketching and drawing almost every day, even finishing a large painting themed around dereliction recently. 'For nearly half a century, Krishen Khanna has been in the forefront of modern Indian art, as an artist, intervenor, and man of imagination. Above all, he has articulated an aesthetic vision that is deeply epical — an epic imagination which has, in a way, painted a moving chronicle of the human condition of our times, troubled and scattered as they are. A narrative of human suffering and empathy, of human dignity and survival.'Ashok VajpeyiHindi poet, critic and art lover Support for the marginalised The largely self-taught artist, who went on to win the Rockefeller Fellowship in 1962 and travelled abroad to be an artist-in-residence at the American University in Washington D.C., is well known for his sizeable body of work on the India-Pakistan partition. 'As I lived in Lahore and studied at the Government College, before I went on to study at Imperial Service College in England, Pakistan was a part of my early life,' says Khanna. His family moved to Shimla during Partition, and the socio-political chaos he saw in his youth later found expression in his canvases. 'Talking of Partition is not out of place, even in today's milieu. As an artist, it takes time to distil emotions that one experienced as a child when the country was being torn asunder.' Khanna moved from abstracts to human forms because, as he shared with London's Grosvenor Gallery, he thought 'that the person or the individual is being neglected — the person in a particular situation who is influenced by the conditions around'. His support for the marginalised shines through strongly in his work depicting pavement fruit-sellers, migrant labourers, and, of course, bandwallas. 'I have always held deep admiration for Krishen Khanna's artistic vision and his immense contribution to modern Indian art. His Bandwallas are iconic — there's something profoundly lyrical and cinematic about the way he captures movement, music, and the social fabric of India. What also strikes me is his ability to weave personal memory with national history. His works on the Partition, drawn from lived experience, are powerful in their emotional resonance and historical sensitivity. He is not just an artist; he is a storyteller of our times, someone who brings humanity, depth, and reflection to every canvas.'Shalini PassiCollector, philanthropist and reality TV star His Bandwalla series is one of his most well-known, capturing the reality of Delhi's music makers. Their red uniforms and gold epaulettes depicted in lush colours contrast sharply with their impassive expressions, giving viewers insight into their precarious lives. 'The KNMA has some of the most seminal works by the artist in its collection. His recurrent characters — truck drivers, bandwallas performing or resting during break, people at dhabas, labourers on the streets — are reflective of an empathetic modernism and expressive figuration,' says Roobina Karode, director and chief curator at Kiran Nadar Museum of Art. His approach won him the Padma Bhushan in 1999. 'Krishen Khanna is a very sensitive artist. He looks deeply to choose his narratives, like he did in the Mahabharat series where he focused on the pain of the mother in Abhimanyu's Mother. There is also something touching in his faceless bandwallas. I knew him well and spent more time with him when he was younger; we often talked about his choices and how he navigated his life. He is one of the artists I've worked with who is a perfect example of how passion can keep you going. If you live for your passion then life becomes so meaningful — all of us can take this important page out of his life.'Sharan ApparaoFounder of Apparao Galleries, who has collected works of Khanna's from the 60s to recent times A life well lived To celebrate his centenary, the Raza Foundation — along with Vadehra Art Gallery, Gallery Espace, Art Alive Gallery, Progressive Art Gallery, and Gallerie Nvya — is organising a tribute on July 4 at the India International Centre in New Delhi. It will feature a two-hour colloquium on Khanna's life and art, a screening of the film The Human Condition (on Khanna's life and art practice) by French director Laurent Bregeat, and a dramatic reading of a few pieces of correspondence between Khanna and his friends. 'Krishen Khanna is undoubtedly the Renaissance man amongst us,' shares Karode. 'About to strike a century is the rarest gift of life, and what a life — from a banker to being one of the leading artists in India post-Independence, to a storyteller par excellence. His eloquence as a painter, writer, and orator has touched the lives of so many of us.' Kalpana Shah, owner-director of Tao Art Gallery in Mumbai, is one such person. A friend and associate of Khanna's, she recently held a significant solo show of his to mark 99 years of the artist's creativity. 'I have known Krishen both professionally and personally for the last 25 years, and I have always found him jovial, full of anecdotes and the perfect gentleman,' says Shah, adding that the show spotlighted his versatility, featuring sculptures, tapestries, sketches and paintings from six decades of his practice. One of the Bandwallas is currently on display at the gallery. 'Krishen Khanna holds a unique and significant place in the history of Indian art. His association with the Progressives is well known, but what is inspiring is also how he has remained personally engaged with artists, educators and the community at large over the years. His artworks stay relevant and resonate powerfully with collectors and curators across generations. His bandwallas are more than just a recurring motif — they reflect his deep empathy and connection to everyday life in India. Future generations will always appreciate the relevance of what he has contributed, both to Indian art and to the broader cultural community of South Asia.'Roshni VadehraFounder, Vadehra Art Gallery For his birthday celebrations, Khanna plans to show his recent work. 'It took me quite a while to paint it, and it has gone through many iterations,' he states. 'I have always been a strong colourist, but I still remember what critic Rudy von Leyden told me, that my drawing is 'weak'. So, I have sketched and drawn every day since then to make my lines strong and powerful.' This dedication, we hope, will hold him in good stead for many more years to come. The writer is a critic-curator by day, and a visual artist by night.
Indian Express
3 days ago
- Politics
- Indian Express
Illegal migration from Bangladesh has been a problem for decades. Why did no one act?
The Government of India has finally woken up to the problem of illegal immigration from Bangladesh. There are reports from different states about local police identifying the Bangladeshis and deporting them. In Delhi, during the last six months, at least 770 immigrants have been deported; some were airlifted to Tripura and the rest sent by the surface route. In Assam, the state government is systematically tracking down individuals declared illegal foreigners by the Foreigners' Tribunals and pushing them back into the no man's land between India and Bangladesh. It is reported that 30,000 people who had been declared foreign nationals by the Tribunals in Assam have just disappeared. There are reports of deportations from Maharashtra, Gujarat, Rajasthan and Haryana. Whatever action is being taken, however, amounts to a trickle compared to the very large number of Bangladeshis settled in India. In the wake of Partition in 1947, many Hindus crossed over to India from East Pakistan to the adjoining states of Assam, West Bengal, and Tripura. Later, however, when the Pakistan Army started persecuting the Bengalis, a large number of Muslims also crossed over to India. After the liberation of Bangladesh in 1971, it was expected that the new regime would maintain communal harmony. However, that did not happen, and Bangladeshis continued to pour into India, partly due to religious discrimination but mostly for economic opportunity and in search of a better life. According to the Bangladesh Institute of Development Studies, nearly 3.5 million people 'disappeared' from East Pakistan between 1951 and 1961 and another 1.5 million between 1961 and 1974. Some Bangladesh intellectuals justified the mass migration of people to India as lebensraum – the legitimate movement of people from high-density to low-density areas. The Government of India's response was half-hearted. Migration slowed down only after India started fencing the 40967.7 km long border with Bangladesh. The Task Force on Border Management, headed by Madhav Godbole, in its report submitted in August 2000, said that 'there is an all-round failure in India to come to grips with the problem of illegal immigration'. The report went on to say that 'facts are well known, opinions are firmed up, and the operating system is in position, but the tragedy is that despite this, nothing substantial happens due to catharsis of deciding in this regard due to sharp division of interest among the political class'. The Task Force estimated that there were about 15 million illegal Bangladeshi immigrants in the country and that about 3 lakh Bangladeshi nationals were entering India illegally every year. The Task Force report was never placed in the public domain because it was brutally honest. The very next year, in February 2001, the Group of Ministers, in their recommendations on national security, while taking care of Bangladesh's sensitivity in the matter, reiterated that 'the massive illegal immigration poses a grave danger to our security, social harmony and economic well-being'. The Supreme Court of India, in a landmark judgment in Sarbananda Sonowal v. Union of India (2005), observed that 'there can be no manner of doubt that the State of Assam is facing 'external aggression and internal disturbance' on account of large-scale illegal migration of Bangladeshi nationals' and that therefore, it is 'the duty of the Union of India to take all measures for protection of the State of Assam from such external aggression and internal disturbance as enjoined in Article 355 of the Constitution'. All these warnings by the Task Force, the Group of Ministers and the Supreme Court remained unheeded. There was no plan of action to deal with the problem. Now that our relations with Bangladesh have soured, the Government of India has started deporting the Bangladeshi illegal immigrants. The total number of illegal immigrants deported so far would be a couple of thousand only. The drive must continue — with greater vigour — whether the Bangladesh government cooperates or not. It is relevant that the US is deporting all illegal immigrants from different parts of the world. Even Pakistan has repatriated 1.3 million Afghanistan nationals back to their country. There is no reason why India should be hesitant or have any reservations about acting against illegal immigrants from any country. Meanwhile, the chief minister of Assam has given a new angle to our relations with Bangladesh when he said that Bangladesh has 'two of its own chicken necks'. One is from Dakshin Dinajpur to South-West Garo Hills, and the other is the Chittagong Corridor from South Tripura to the Bay of Bengal. The Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) inhabited by the Chakma tribes, who are mostly Buddhists, are in a state of turbulence. There are serious problems of ethnic identity, land rights, and cultural preservation of the indigenous tribes. Thousands of Chakmas have fled to India and have been settled in the north-eastern states of Arunachal Pradesh, Tripura and Mizoram. Was Himanta Biswa Sarma speaking on his own, or was he acting as the Centre's mouthpiece? In any case, there is food for thought. The writer is a former Member of the National Security Advisory Board and Director General, BSF
News18
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- News18
Vedang Raina ‘Can't Wait' To Start His Next With Imtiaz Ali, Says ‘Actor's Dream'
Last Updated: Filmmaker Imtiaz Ali is reuniting with Diljit Dosanjh for his period love story. His upcoming film is set in the 1940s, during the time of India's Partition. Imtiaz Ali has once again left fans excited with the announcement of his next film. The upcoming drama will also star Diljit Dosanjh, Sharvari and others. Vedang Raina, who is also part of the film, is super excited for the upcoming project. He has called it actor's dream. Reportedly, the movie will explore the emotional toll of migration and the impact of historical upheaval on personal relationships Taking to Instagram stories, Vedang shared a news clip and wrote, 'Any actor's dream. Can't wait to start this journey with the most amazing and talented group of artists." The announcement was made on Sharvari's birthday. The actor took to Instagram and expressed her happiness, stating that she had always manifested to be directed by Imtiaz. Filmmaker Imtiaz Ali is reuniting with Diljit Dosanjh for his period love story. His upcoming film is set in the 1940s, during the time of India's Partition. The movie will explore the emotional toll of migration and the impact of historical upheaval on personal relationships. According to sources, the film is set in Punjab and follows a young couple whose lives are torn apart in the wake of Partition. 'Set in the 1940s, the movie looks at Partition and its after-effects from the lens of two lovers. While Sharvari plays the young female lead opposite Vedang, Imtiaz is in talks with two more leading ladies for other prominent roles as the film revolves around different generations of families," a source tells Mid-Day. If all goes according to plan, filming is expected to begin in August. The source adds, 'Through the movie, Imtiaz will trace the heartbreak that accompanies migration. Despite the theme, the story will not show Pakistan, and only make passing references to it." Though the title is yet to be announced, the film is already drawing attention thanks to its cast, historical backdrop, and the emotional storytelling style Imtiaz Ali is known for. Vedang Raina made his acting debut in 2023, playing Reggie Mantle in Zoya Akhtar's musical teen drama The Archies. Following this, he appeared in the 2024 action thriller Jigra. In addition to acting, Raina has lent his voice as a singer, performing four songs featured in his films. Meanwhile, Sharvari Wagh began her career behind the camera in 2015, working as an assistant director to filmmakers Luv Ranjan and Sanjay Leela Bhansali. She made her acting debut in 2020 with Kabir Khan's war drama web series The Forgotten Army – Azaadi Ke Liye. First Published: June 15, 2025, 10:37 IST
Time of India
7 days ago
- General
- Time of India
The many Heers of Punjab: Harleen Singh's archive of resistance, resilience and remembering
Amid renewed tensions between India and Pakistan, revisiting shared histories can build bridges, says Canada-based Harleen Singh whose debut non-fiction 'The Lost Heer' highlights the silenced stories of women from colonial Punjab. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now From Dr Premdevi, likely Punjab's first female doctor to Khadija Begum--the 'first Punjabi lady MA', the book—which sprang from Singh's seven-year-old Instagram archive—seeks to challenge divisive, male-centric narratives. The author talks to Sharmila Ganesan Ram about his singing grandma and other unsung women whose lives and legacies cross borders Your book 'The Lost Heer' is dedicated to 'Bibi'. Tell us about her. Did she play a role in shaping your curiosity about history? The Lost Heer is dedicated to my nani, whom I lovingly called Bibi. She was born in Sheikhupura and raised in Lahore, cities that became part of Pakistan in 1947. That year, she became a refugee, forced to leave behind her home, her community and a world that after that would live on only in her memories. Her folk songs carried centuries of emotion, her recipes preserved rituals of daily life and her stories painted vivid pictures of places I had never seen but could almost touch through her words. When I told her I'd submitted the manuscript of 'The Lost Heer', she gifted me her mother's prized phulkari. Sadly, Bibi passed away before the book was published. But her voice, her spirit, and her stories live on in every page. You began volunteering at the 1947 Partition Archive in Delhi when you returned to India from Canada in 2014. Was that the seed for 'The Lost Heer' Project, the Instagram page you launched in 2018? Yes. I was in India on a summer break. Searching for ways to reconnect with the history I'd grown up hearing in fragments, especially from Bibi, I volunteered for the 1947 Partition Archive. It was a turning point. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now I interviewed Partition survivors, many of them women, and was struck by how much remained unsaid in public narratives. Women lamented the loss of their local recipes, folk songs, dialects and all the intimate domestic things. Layered with silences, grief, resilience and a quiet dignity, their stories were starkly different from that of men, which were usually stories of rags to riches. This planted the seed for 'The Lost Heer' Project, which I launched on Instagram in 2018 to create a space to explore women's histories from colonial Punjab. This eventually grew into the book. 'The Lost Heer' evokes Punjab's legendary lover. What does Heer symbolize in your book? Heer is much more than a romantic figure—she's a symbol of defiance, choice, and emotional strength in Punjab's oral and literary tradition. I wanted to reclaim her not just as a tragic lover, but as a woman who speaks, resists, and asserts agency. Like Heer, many women in colonial Punjab lived through upheaval—displacement, violence, cultural loss—but their voices were rarely recorded. They were often remembered only through the men around them. By invoking Heer, I wanted to show that these voices aren't lost. To me, Heer represents a quintessential Punjaban, a chorus of women whose truths have long been buried under history's noise. As a male author telling the stories of women in colonial Punjab, were there moments of doubt or hesitation? Absolutely. I often questioned whether I could truly capture the nuances of their experiences, and whether I might unintentionally impose a modern or male gaze on histories that weren't mine to claim. What guided me was a deep commitment to listening with care, humility, and respect. Much of 'The Lost Heer' is based on years of engaging with oral histories, family memories and the silences that run through the stories of Partition-era women. What struck me most was how often these women's agency was overlooked--their choices, resilience, and emotional complexity reduced to stereotypes of suffering or sacrifice. These women were active participants in history, even when their options were painfully limited. The goal was never to speak for women but to hold space for their stories to speak through me. From teachers to preachers, poetesses to editors, your book uncovers the lives of many remarkable Heers including social reformer Dr Premdevi and writer Khadija Begum Ferozeuddin. Which stories moved or surprised you most? Hardevi Roshanlal's story fascinated m. A child widow, she moved from Lahore to London in the 1880s, where she experienced 'freedom' from purdah for the first time. She learned the Montessori system, returned to Lahore in 1888 and set up a press and started Punjab's first women's magazine 'Bharat Bhagini'. She didn't stop there. Hardevi also wrote a Hindi travelogue called 'Landan Yatra', sharing her experiences abroad for Punjabi women to read. Later, she transformed into an anticolonial activist, organizing women's gatherings within purdah and conspiring against the British during the intense disturbances in Punjab around 1907–1908. Her story revealed how women's agency took many forms - education, publishing, political activism - amid social and political upheaval. Given the lack of documentation of women's voices, how difficult was the research process? Many of these stories were hidden in silences, absent from official archives, or scattered across fragmented sources. To uncover them, I had to go beyond traditional histories and piece together clues from a wide range of materials: old newspapers, pension records, private letters, family papers, oral testimonies, etc. I call this process 'informed imagination.' It's about carefully assembling these fragments, sometimes just names, dates, or brief mentions, and imagining the fuller lives behind them without straying from historical plausibility. You write that 'controlling women's sexuality' was a key concern in colonial Punjab… Controlling women's sexuality in colonial Punjab was closely linked to the purdah system, which restricted women's movement and enforced their seclusion as a marker of honour. Victorian morality clashed with local customs during this period, introducing new ideas of modesty. One major controversy was Punjabi women bathing naked in rivers—a long-standing communal practice seen as indecent by colonial officials and missionaries. This led to fines on men who failed to control their women and even debates at the 1893 Lahore Congress. Religious reform groups like Arya Samaj and Singh Sabha, influenced by Victorian values, pushed dress reforms, replacing traditional garments like the choli with fully covered attire like the kameez. While women's bodies became battlegrounds for competing ideas, the women of Punjab continued to navigate, negotiate, and sometimes resist these norms in their own subtle ways. From purdah parties to early feminist journals, elite women engaged in various ways with both colonial power and local reform. What forms of agency stood out to you? What stood out to me was how they used the spaces available to them. Purdah parties, for instance, might seem like spaces of seclusion, but they were also sites of social networking, and collective organization. Women exchanged ideas, interacted with newer inventions, supported reformist causes, and sometimes even engaged in subtle resistance to colonial or patriarchal control: exposing a racist memsahib or decrying polygamy. Similarly, through editing and writing in early feminist journals, they challenged norms around education and women's rights, engaging with both colonial and local reform movements on their own terms. How did caste, religion and class shape women's experiences in colonial Punjab and how do these layered identities echo in South Asia today? Upper-caste women faced strict controls like purdah and arranged marriages but often had access to education and reform circles. Lower-caste women faced economic hardship and different social pressures, sometimes with more freedom from strict gender norms. Religious identities—Sikh, Hindu, Muslim—added further layers, all influenced by colonial laws regulating personal and social life. Today, these intersecting identities still affect women's opportunities and challenges across South Asia, seen in ongoing debates around issues like triple talaq, polygamy, and women's access to religious spaces. Recent works such as 'The Kaurs of 1984' have drawn attention to the voices of women in the aftermath of Operation Blue Star. In the context of today's strained Indo-Pak and Indo-Canada ties, can historical storytelling--especially through the lens of unsung women--offer a bridge across borders in your view? Historical storytelling that focuses on unsung women can serve as bridges across strained borders by highlighting shared human experiences like loss and resilience. Women's stories from Punjab—whether about Partition, Operation Blue Star, or migration—reveal connections that transcend political divides and challenge narrow nationalisms. These narratives remind us history is not just about nations, but about people, often women, whose lives and legacies cross borders in ways official politics rarely acknowledge. I believe storytelling grounded in empathy and complexity can foster healing and connection, helping us imagine futures where shared histories become foundations for peace rather than division. What's next for 'The Lost Heer' Project? Do you envision these stories taking new forms—perhaps on stage, screen, or in classrooms? The archive is still growing. Thousands of stories remain undocumented, lying untouched and untranslated in archives, family collections, and oral histories. I hope these stories find new life on stage, screen, or in classrooms, reaching wider audiences and helping future generations connect deeply with their history and heritage.
