[GOTFIVEONIT]

By Geeta Pandey
BBC News, Delhi

When Sir Cyril Radcliffe joined the dots on a map creating a Muslim Pakistan and a Hindu-majority India, 15 million refugees journeyed across the border to make a new life into the two newly-created nations.

But millions of Muslims refused to let the line eject them from the only home they had ever known - India. We spoke to three generations of one such family.



FAROOQI BEGUM, 85

"If I had tried to run away, God alone knows what could have happened to us"

"We lived in Delhi's Mori Gate area. I had three children - the oldest a five-year-old boy and the youngest a three-month-old girl. My husband owned an ice-cream factory.

In August 1947, the situation was very bad. All my neighbours had moved out to a refugee camp. But I didn't go.

My husband used to say, "It's better to die with dignity then to live a life of insult and abuse in the camp."

At night, the men would patrol the roads and the women would take shelter in a house which had a big iron gate. I would go up to my attic and stay there with my children.

I had full faith in God. I said when our time comes, we will go. But if our time hasn't come, then no bullet will be able to harm us.

For three days that August, the situation was so bad, so many bullets were fired, people were dying like popping popcorns.

Many who tried to flee the city were butchered on the way, many lost their arms and legs.

The marauders killed so many children - here is your Pakistan, they said.

But then, if God looks after you, no-one can hurt you. So my family and I came to no harm.

Even in our darkest days, we never thought about moving to Pakistan. My husband said, "We will go home to Rampur (in the northern Indian state of Uttar Pradesh) because all our family is there, that's our home."

On our last night in Delhi, I took a bottle of kerosene with me to the attic. I thought if someone attacked my honour, I would set myself and my children on fire. I thought it would be better to die than lose my honour.

When a little peace returned after a month of carnage, the Nawab of Rampur arranged for us to get back home. It took us 24 hours to do the journey from Delhi to Rampur.

We left a guard at our home, but a Sikh family threw him out and occupied our place. When the guard informed us, my husband returned to Delhi.

There are good people in every community. The occupants of the house were good people. They told my husband - everything is yours and you can take whatever is yours.

But we decided to stay away. We never went back.

My husband moved back to Delhi and revived his ice-cream factory.

A couple of years later when things had settled down, he wanted us to return to Delhi too, but I turned it down. I said to him "Delhi has been plundered so many times, what's the guarantee it will not happen again?" So we stayed on in Rampur.

If I had tried to run away, God alone knows what could have happened to us. So many people were killed in the trains when they tried to escape. Everyone had become crazy.

I understand why it happened - people on both sides had lost their loved ones, and they had been scarred forever.

If someone hurts my children, won't I go crazy too?"