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  • Strong burning smell, immense heat, and loud screams woke me up this morning. My house was on fire. I looked around, everywhere, noting seemed familiar. I crammed out of the narrowest possible opening, I looked back and flames surrounded by smoke have reached the skies. Where am I? I don’t belong here but still I am familiar with this situation. This has been my routine for a very long time now.

    I don’t recognize those faces but I do recognize the swords and clubs in their hands. I can’t recognize that house but I do recognize the flames and those broken windows. I can’t recognize those women but I recognize their screams and yearnings.

    ”Run or you will be killed”, someone was pacing towards me. We both ran in search for safe haven.
    “Who are you?”, I asked. We felt safe now, away from all the bloodletting and chaos.
    ”I report for Times of India
    I kept staring at him for a while, was I really safe?
    “I wish I was born in The Mughal Period”, he said “when Hindus and Muslims lived in peace. The women were as remarkable as men and there was unity, justice, and love above discrimination, you know Taj Mahal was built.”

    I knew what he was talking about, but I sat down numb, I wanted to rest, I still can’t believe what I had experienced, was tired as if I have been a fugitive for a very LONG time.

    ”I know you all really miss Mr. Jinnah and await his return”, he said and then left.

    That night in my dream, I was a Mughal, lying on my bed in my palace enjoying Mirza Ghalib’s poetry, magnificent paintings were hanging on my walls. Suddenly my lady-in-waiting arrives and informs, “The uprising in Delhi against British failed, we lost an Emperor, an Empire, and a Capital”

    This morning I again wake-up in the hustle-bustle and chaos. The true colors of India have disappeared, but still could be felt somewhere in the vicinity.

    ”Jinnah Returns, Jinnah Returns, Times of India, Times of India, Jinnah Returns”, a young boy on his bicycle.

    ”Stop”, I called out “I want one.”
    ”These elections will decide the future of Indian Muslims”, I said to myself.

    Elections are over, Congress wins over The Muslim League and currently everyone is waiting for Mr. Jinnah’s first address to the politicians after his recent loss.

    Ladies and Gentlemen, 21 years ago here in Lucknow, The League and Congress signed a historical Pact uniting the two communities in a struggle to end British Raj(rein)….

    Mr. Jinnah is in a completely new avatar, he stands before the crowd dressed up to the nines but not in a suite, instead in a sherwani and a cap to which people are addressing as Jinnah Cap.

    ”Yes! Mr. Jinnah is right, Mr. Jinnah is right.” People from the crowd screamed.

    If the Muslims of India come together, in Faith, Unity, Discipline, nation will emerge… which will have nothing to fear. Nothing! The Moon of Pakistan… The Moon of Islam… is rising!!

    ”Mr. Jinnah is a great leader!, He is our Quaid-e-Azam, Quaid-e-Azam zindabad(may he live long) Quaid-e-Azam zindabad!”

    In 1940 Jinnah’s League passed the historical Pakistan Resolution in Lahore demanding a separate state.

    The more we came closer to the accomplishment of our dream, the more precarious incidents arised. I came across a group of people, they were discussing one of the many failed assassination attempts on Mr. Jinnah. I stood for a while to listen.

    ”I heard screams and gunshots echo in the air, nights in Bombay are no more safe.”
    ”I have heard that Mr. Jinnah’s health is not very good, he has suffered injuries” , they said.

    I started walking, they were right, the conditions were deteriorating, good times became an ephemeral. Riots, looting, kill, burn, enemy, these words used to echo in the atmosphere all the time. Muslim minority is not safe. Hindus and Muslims have lived together for centuries, what is wrong now?

    All hopes now rest Mr. Jinnah and his meeting with Mr. Mountbatten.

    ”Mountbatten announces the Partition plans, Breaking news, Mountbatten announces the Partition plans”.
    So our Quaid-e-Azam successfully convinced him.
    I ran and snatched the newspaper, it read: India and Pakistan are to be given their Independence on the midnight of 14-15 August, Mountbatten.

    Soon the migration started. Thousands of people were traveling via trains to their new homeland. Unfortunately very few were reaching alive as the trains were being attacked and passengers killed to discourage the migration.
    Tomorrow is my turn, if I make it alive, I will have a new identity, if not, my existence will be lost forever.

    I won’t be able to sleep tonight, I thought.

    Tomorrow is the 14th of August. Pakistan’s Independence Day.
    I wish every one a very Happy 14th August.

    Day after is India's Independence day, I also wish all the Indians a very happy 15th of August.
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