“When I saw nobody around, I went inside and asked Gandhi ji , ‘Bapu, why are you after my Sindh?’,” said Radhika Kishin Chehnani. Chehnani, whose family knew the leader, was just a child when India was partitioned. And even as a schoolgirl, she was a part of the freedom movement, setting out with others in the wee hours, before school, to shout slogans such as ‘Quit India’, ‘ Britishers ko bhagao ’. Once, she was rounded up in a police van, along with other children, and driven off several kilometres from her home in Hyderabad, Sindh. Returning home by foot was her punishment for joining the freedom fighters. Chehnani’s story, narrated through an audiovisual, was just one of the many that played out at, ‘Remembering Partition: Museum of Memories’.

The three-day pop-up at Mumbai’s Godrej India Culture Lab (GICL) — August 4-6 — gave us a sneak peek into the largest mass migration in human history — the UNHCR estimates that 14 million Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims were displaced by the decision to partition India. Said Parmesh Shahani, founder of GICL, “With 2017 marking 70 years of Indian independence, we expected many conversations around the freedom movement. But we also wanted to ensure people spoke about the Partition. That people didn’t forget.”

The exhibition consisted of various sections that explored the Partition through different artistic mediums. ‘Stitching Histories’ showcased the work of seven Indian fashion designers who used fabric to capture the sense of loss as well as hope that marked those years of turbulence. One such exhibit was a Tarun Tahiliani creation: A sheer burkha, draped over an ajrak -printed sari. This form of block-printing, native to Sindh, is still associated with communities from the region. A placard informed that the mannequin stood for the Hindu Sindhi women who, disguised as Muslims, fled their homes.

Narendra Kumar Ahmed’s story was that of his ‘Muslim father and Hindu mother who came together in the darkest periods of Indian history’. Red embroidery over a sombre dark cloth signified destruction and bloodshed. But hints of gold and a pattern of the white tsuru (Japanese for ‘crane’) offered a glimmer of hope, and signified freedom.

At ‘Spilt Ends’, yet another section of the exhibit, artist and storyteller Nina Sabnani used appliqué work associated with Kutch and Sindh. And through this handicraft, she narrated the story of her father Mukund and his friend Riaz. A series of different patterns, individually displayed, took us through the lives of the two children, who took joy in the ordinary — cricket, kulfi and so on. They seemed inseparable, knowing nothing of caste or religion. Their story came to an abrupt end with an embroidered ship’s arrival in Bombay.

Some of the most interesting tales were from the ‘Museum of Objects’, with artefacts on loan from the Partition Museum in Amritsar and from the residents of Mumbai. One such object was a kettle that belongs to Vikas Goswami. His family — from Swat Valley in Pakistan — hid their gold in this container as they crossed the border into India.

A sepia-printed picture of two men, owned by Harsh Vora, spoke of the camaraderie between his Hindu grandfather, a cutlery trader, and a Muslim watchman from a trading complex in Karachi. When riots broke out, the guard loaned his skull cap to the Hindu man and walked him through dangerous streets to the safety of the Vora residence.

‘Dear Nana, Nani’ was the work of students of Riverside School in Ahmedabad, who approached their grandparents to recount stories of the Partition. The result was 14 emotional letters. The one by Ratanlal Samdani read: “My neighbour Bharat Bhai was shot in the head and there was blood all over.” Pushpa Bajaj wrote, “I could see the tension on my parent’s faces. We waited in line for hours and finally got seats on the lower deck of the ship, next to the luggage.” Samdani ended his letter with “I still remember those sad times. I remember it clearly. I hope that those times never come again.”

Huge silos placed within the grounds held a replica of the first voting machines, manufactured by Godrej, used by independent India. Another silo displayed poems on the Partition, many of those written by ordinary folk who lived through those extraordinary times.

‘Echoes of Sindh’, yet another section within the museum, was an audiovisual, put together by the School of Environment and Architecture, Borivali. Through pictures and voices we got glimpses of the Sindhi Colony in Mumbai’s Chembur suburb. Originally a refugee camp, it provided basic accommodation to displaced Sindhis, many of whom came to India with nothing but the clothes on their back. Today, the barracks have given way to permanent concrete structures. Many of the original inhabitants continue to live here, sharing space and a bittersweet past.

Kiran Mehta is a Mumbai-based journalist

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