Change had not touched it for generations. Daska, the small town in undivided Punjab, lived life predictably. Here, boy never met girl, but romance flourished through glances exchanged over rooftops, only to be nipped in the but by parents. The mix of many communities — Hindu, Muslim, Sikh and Christian-lived within the boundaries erected by tradition and interacted accordingly. All was transparent and contained. Even strangers and visitors came as well identified entities. Men of the Hatoo community of Kashmir came down regularly to Daska to escape the harsh winter and to earn a living for the season. The much travelled Bhatras, the clan of colourful fortune-tellers who roamed the world across Europe, Africa and Arabia, landed up all at once at Daska, every two or three years, as if by some mysterious signal. The village of Kandan Sian had its own ghosts, dains, and special odd characters. Fairs, festivals and seasonal practices added the spice to life’s simplicity. The sultry summer nights, for example, saw village lads carrying their string-cots to the fields where the cattle had been tethered. Under the stars, he cattle lowed in relief from the heat and manured the field, while the; boys had their bit of fun on their nights out from strict homes. The author has lovingly picked details from a remarkable store of memory, to bring alive an era abruptly extinguished by Partition. The reader can expect to be transported, in every sense of the word.
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