Remnants of a Separation - A graceful poetic tribute

Title: Remnants of a separation 

Author: Aanchal Malhotra

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A fistful of soil, mutthi bhar mitti. 

Till today how many people, on both sides have been pining just for that!

These are the last lines of the book and with this I crossover the border of time and memories and come to the present moment having lived all the stories. 

Aanchal Malhotra is a brilliant historian and author creating visual tales of nostalgia thru archiving the material remnants of the past. Those whose grandparents crossed over have grown up with tales of the land they lived once. My grand parents would sometimes narrate their lives as a beautiful memory, probably hiding the gory past, as if by not talking about it, it will be forgotten and left only beautiful memories of a lost world where everyone lived happily. As if the curse of partition was the worst thing that could happen and everything else is a toast story. Imagine the wrath. 

Aanchal deals with the trauma in a graceful, respectful, poise and poetic manner. It’s past and dwelling in it is toxic. People who went thru it have forgiven it so why can’t we. I too regret not talking about it more with my grandparents or not having to worry about getting a visa to Lahore, my grandmothers hometown. Why it’s so far. Why it’s seems so near. Slowly the generation who lived thru it is dieting but the scars stay, like remnants of old wounds showing as birth marks.

Every time the violence was described - people killing, jumping in the wells, cutting children, raping women, lost families, hunger, and poverty - my eyes would tear up and something swelled inside me, ready to burst from my throat. It’s true the pain never goes, it seeps into your soul, your bones and passes on to the next generation with stories and blood running thru us. The facts and events enter the books but the feelings of anger, helplessness and loss pierce the elements of earth, passing stories to the next generations thru the food we eat, the songs we sing, the wind that blows and the river that flows. Like remnants of a lost love! The love of motherland. 

Ps I can’t tell you the amount of poetic quotes this book has. My prompt booklet is half over but they are to be cherished. Like a beautiful past, which must be visited a few words remembered and then closed to be loved from far.