The Sixth River: A Journal from the Partition of India

by Fikr Taunsvi, Maaz Bin Bilal (Translator)

The Partition of India in 1947 left millions displaced amidst indiscriminate murders, rapes and looting. The Sixth River, originally published as Chhata Darya, is an extraordinary first-person account of that violent time.

Born Ram Lal Bhatia in the town of Taunsa Sharif, then in the Punjab, Fikr Taunsvi left for the cosmopolitan city of Lahore in the 1930s. Here he worked with various newspapers, wrote poetry and articles, and became a part of the intellectual circle. But when independence was announced, Fikr was faced with a new reality—of being a Hindu in his beloved city, now in Pakistan.

The Sixth River is the journal Fikr wrote from August to November 1947 as Lahore disintegrated around him. Fikr is angry at the shortsightedness and ineptness of Radcliffe, Nehru, Gandhi and Jinnah. In the company of likeminded friends such as Sahir Ludhianvi, he mourns the loss of the art and culture of Lahore in the bloodlust and deluded euphoria of freedom; and derides the newly converted, who adopted stereotypical religious symbols.

He is bewildered when old friends suddenly turn staunch nationalists and advise him to either convert or leave the country. And the deep, unspeakable trauma millions faced during Partition reaches Fikr’s doorstep when his neighbour murders his daughter, and when he is eventually forced to migrate to Amritsar in India.

Powerful, ironic and deeply harrowing, The Sixth River is an invaluable account of the Partition. This brilliant translation by Maaz Bin Bilal makes the classic available in English for the first time.

Genres: Nonfiction, History, Classics, India

184 pages, Hardcover

Published August 10, 2019

Reviews

[Sanjukta · Rating 4 out of 5]

“And Sahir Ludhianvi is wailing and heaving with sobs, from Delhi, where he is reading the elegy for the Punjab:

Friends! For years, I wove dreams of the stars and the moon, for you, but today on my torn shirt, there is nothing but the dirt of the road. My songs have choked in my harp, all notes lie buried in the mound of screams. Give me the alms of peace and civilization, the melody of my songs, my notes, my flute, hand them to my wounded lips, again.


But who listens to Sahir’s cries and screams? How can the bard’s broken flute be repaired? O Bard! All of us are beggars today, but no one drops any alms in our bowls. Who has the strength to listen to your songs today? Who need recognize the face of your pain, grief and protest? You may go on screaming, Gandhi kept beseeching, I may keep crying, Arif may howl—but you know these cries go, bang themselves against the Wagah border and are reduced to smithereens. Sahir, what does it matter if our Punjab is lost, but the border at Wagah has come into being! The forces of rajas and maharajas revolted. At least, the religion of Hindus and Muslims has been saved. Temples and mosques have been saved from desecrations. And haven’t you heard that not a single namazi is left east of the Wagah border? And there is gambling in mosques and the Noble Qur’an lies in the drains. And that not a single pujari is left west of Wagah. Mandirs and gurudwaras lie in desolation. The idols of gods lie with the rubbish. Is this not enough? And here you are the people’s bard! Sending the echoes of your screams on the airwaves to gain all this back? That your lost tune, your broken flute be returned to you? In the heaven of fools, who listens to such a creature of hell as you, my friend?”

[taj · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most remarkable and moving books I've ever read. Fikr Taunsvi, true to the nature of a poet, uses the power of writing to completely transport the reader to the streets of Lahore. He paints such a vivid picture; it's as if you are a friend walking alongside him or in his shadow, as he attempts to navigate this turbulent time. I had goosebumps and a heavy heart throughout. Would love to find an audio version of this in its original state of Urdu, to truly capture the magic of Mr Taunsvi's words. Cannot recommend this enough.

[Gowtham · Rating 4 out of 5]

Then Proganda these days surrounding the history of our nation made me search for this book. How so ever you try to hide the history it keeps coming back up.

[Nimisha · Rating 5 out of 5]

Searing encounter of the partition and a reminder of how we can sometimes be so lost collectively. I am eager to read the Urdu original, can hardly imagine how piercing it would be. This is as good a translation as it gets though. Overall, highly recommend reading this, slowly and carefully letting the horrors sink in.

[Joyjayanti Chatterjee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Picked up this book after seeing a reference to it in Sam Darymple's Shattered Lands. Satirical, honest, and touching - it's almost surreal to read about a time which has shaped so much of the subcontinent's history being recorded in a personal journal. It does not get any more real and accurate than this. Prominent personalities of the day including Sahir Ludhianvi cross paths with the author.

The translator does a good job but I wish I could read the original. One can tell in many portions of the book that some language just does not translate well in English...which is nowhere as lyrical as Urdu or Punjabi are.

[Mia · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s a sarcastic, biting commentary about the tyranny of the Government during partition (He amusingly compares them to Tughlaq regime). He narrates both the sides of the story. Both barbarity and kindness of humans. Humans who identified as Hindus and Muslims but were content to live harmoniously . He questions the idea of ‘freedom’ propagated during the Indo-Pak Partition. Did the people actually become free? Who wanted such kind of freedom ?

Knowtow to Taunsvi. That’s all I can say.

[Animesh Thakur · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very comprehensive coverage.

[Padmanabha Reddy · Rating 5 out of 5]

We we read about the chapter of Partition of the subcontinent, there are not many first hand accounts written by writers. It's mostly through research by later writers and prose by writers like Manto is where we learn about the bloody tale. But this particular journal is different, its a first hand account of a person going through the bloody phase of partition while still on the other side of the border. Ram Lal Bhatia urf Fikr Taunsvi pens down in his heartfelt journal what exactly was going through around him as well as in his mind when independence was announced. Fikr Taunsvi was in Lahore when the independence was announced and initially didn't want to leave his beloved city but had to leave it owing to security conditions.

Fikr was among the intelligentsia in Lahore along with Sahir Ludhiyanavi, Mumtaz, and Qateel Shifai. Probably he was the only Hindu writer left in Lahore after partition. The explosion of bombs, hatred among people, rapes, plunder, and chaos in Lahore followed by strict curfews show us how dire the situation was. The most important part of the whole journal is that it is written in an unbiased manner purely through a common man's view of daily activities. The dark humour in the book is worth noting and I wish I could've read it in Urdu but it's not available. I searched for a Devanagari scripted Urdu version but even that was not available. I personally felt that the dark satire was somewhere lost in the translation.

Fikr's work is also important because he was not an ordinary writer but a seasoned one which means that he was aware of everything going around him. I couldn't put my book down when I was reading it. It pained me to know that Fikr's daughter was killed by his neighbour in Taunsa Sharif who was a very good friend of his. Such was the hatred among people. Fikr also realizes that he wouldn't be safe in Pakistan when his best friend says that Fikr is a hindu and an exciting discussion may lead to violence. When statements like these come during an intelligent discussion, we ought to rethink our preconceived notions of brotherhood and this is exactly what Fikr did. Not only Fikr Taunsvi but also Sahir Ludhiyanavi left Pakistan for India.

Chatta Darya or the sixth river is the river of blood in the land of Punjab which was split due to hatred and power mongering leaders like Jinnah and Nehru whom he satirizes throughout the journal. The heartfelt lines of Fikr Taunsvi ring in the ears of scholars even today and I would suggest everyone to go through this amazing work. This is a masterpiece which will surely make your eyes wet.

[Nirbhay Kanoria · Rating 5 out of 5]

I discovered Fikr Taunsvi's The Sixth River, translated from Urdu by Maaz Bin Bilal, thanks to Shattered Lands. Fikr Taunsvi was the pen name of Ram Lal Bhatia, an Urdu satirist and poet who lived in Lahore before Partition. The book is his journal from early August 1947 to early November, 1947, chronicling a time of turmoil and strife as a nation was shredded in half. 

The title, The Sixth River, is derived by Taunsvi calling the Radcliffe line the "sixth river" of Punjab (often called the Land of Five Rivers) because of how it divided up his beloved homeland. It could also, I suppose, refer to the kafilas, or the "human trains" that moved from one country to another, many as long as river. Or then, it could mean the quite literal rivers of blood that flowed between the countries, off the trains, and desecrated the fertile lands.

I've read many non-fiction books about Paritition that have been written in the last few decades and I've read fiction written during Patition such as Manto and Chugtai, but this was the first time I read the journal of an exceedingly gifted writer, written during the time his life was being torn apart by Partition. His words are piercing, and even in his grief, he is poetic.

Imagine having to comfort your best friend and daughter's murderer, who offers you his own son to kill, so you can get your revenge. I wonder what happened to humanity and how an entire generation survived this.

Despite seeing the worst of people, Fikr didn't lose faith - he sent two of his Muslim friends to get his wife and remaining daughter from the village, and when he finally left Lahore, his five Muslim friends came with him right upto to the border and bid him a teary farewell.

It was almost agonizing to read this book, but nonetheless, it was so very important.

A funny side note - Fikr's satire column, way back in the 1940s, was called "Pyaaz ke Chilke" or Onion Skins - I found that pretty amusing given the name of the popular current day satirical paper - The Onion.

[Parvathy · Rating 4 out of 5]

A writer's journal written between 9th August and 8th November 1947. Taunsvi (real name Ram Lal Bhatia) is living in his beloved Lahore when he is caught in the viciousness of the times. Punjab is in turmoil, and Taunsvi is witness to one of the most violent migrations in history. His writing is angry and despairing - he calls the Radcliffe Line that divided Punjab the sixth river, one that flowed with blood; he blames the British and Jinnah and Nehru and Gandhi, all who according to him were the culprits behind the abomination that was Partition. It is a lament to broken brotherhood, to the powerlessness of the common man who is just a pawn in the hands of men in power, to lost syncretism, to the narrowing of identity. "And friends, what is religion? Some lines that run parallel to each other. Arey, how difficult is it to traverse the distance between these parallel lines? Kalimah, namaz and Quran. Sandhya, Veda and Bhagwan. I can cross this intervening distance with more speed and beauty than you", he says. He is grief stricken as he sees his friends adopt the new nationalism, as his neighbour murders his child, as he is forced to leave his beloved Lahore for a 'Hindu' India ("I came with my head bowed and joined the sheep of my religion").
75 years later, it is difficult to understand that despair - can one really see India and Pakistan as one today? And yet, we have Sahir Ludhianvi, Taunsvi's close friend tell him "Comrade Fikr! I apologize on behalf of all of Islam, for you could not live here."
I've read great fiction on partition - the Mantos and the Chugtais and the Khushwant Singhs. This one feels different. It is a first-hand account of living through the horror, and more importantly, an account of what could have been, if only leaders had as much imagination as the poets.
The Sixth River is heart breaking. One can only imagine how much more it must be in the original Urdu.
A big recommend.

[Somali · Rating 4 out of 5]

A must read for all who are interested in Indian politics, citizen history, oral history, progressive movement in Lahore circa 1940's, and Indian Partition.
I do not like rating memoirs.

Could've added this in quotes, but I want this to stay in the reviews.

"A storm was dying down. But its footprints were still quivering and were looking at a new storm rising in the depths of their chests. The people did not want dharma or mazhab, not faith, neither the Vedas, nor the Shariat. They needed a society. They had hopes for food. They had the desire to live. And these they were unable to find. Fascism had burnt the crops away with its fires. But the sparks left underneath the layers of burnt crops were starting to catch fire again. They will become a full-fledged fire again, and from these red-red fires, a new crop will grow. And in that swaying red light, the faces of the culprits will be identified."

I put it here, because to me, this felt the most intense moment from the entire book. I do not want to compare, but even more than the impending and witnessed horror of partition riot. The question is why? Because it sounds like, "hum dekhenge". Sab taaj ucchale jayenge, sab takht giraye jayenge" -like power was there in such a journal.

Unforgettable and powerful piece. I am in utter awe, appreciation, love, grief, but glad that he wrote this. How could he have found time in all of that? A piece of poetry? Sure. But such detailed journal? We are thankful.

But I feel we should all have been taught 'Urdu' in our schools as well. So unfair, that we cannot read such a lively language, that so many of my fellow citizens write with, practice, and read. My thirst of Urdu has increased ten-folds after reading this. Most of the times, I was reading the whole paragraphs more than twice to just imagine, what would the Urdu version sound like. I wish I could read and write Urdu. I wish someday I can.

[Sanjay Basak · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fikr Taunsvi’s The Sixth River. A journal on partition, written from August to November, doesn’t just recount history, it tears through your conscience. It lays bare the horrors of Partition, the violence unleashed in the name of religion — rapes, murders, and blood that together form the “Sixth River,” flowing alongside the five of Punjab as the Radcliffe Line cut through its heart.
Originally published as Chhata Darya, this work is the searing personal account of Fikr Taunsvi — born Ram Lal Bhatia in Taunsa Sharif, pre-Partition Punjab. He later moved to Lahore, where he wrote for various journals and newspapers. When Partition struck, Fikr, a Hindu, found himself in the city he loved, now a part of Pakistan.
His first-person narrative bleeds with the trauma, fear, and anguish of thousands uprooted on both sides of the border. But it’s also the story of a man who refused to see religion as a wall. Fikr loved Lahore — its people, its spirit — and he refused to let faith dictate humanity. He admired the fire of unity that both Hindus and Muslims once tried to preserve, and he mourned how it was extinguished by madness and manipulation.
Fikr’s voice is unflinching — he questions the insanity of division, holds Nehru and Jinnah , Radcliffe, Mountbatten and other leaders and political parties accountable for turning friends and neighbours into enemies, and condemns the rulers who let rivers of blood flow across a fractured land.
What makes The Sixth River so haunting is its reflection of today. The same rage, the same poisonous othering, the same loathing for another’s faith are back. it’s all seeping once again into the veins. The Radcliffe Line has returned — not on maps, but in minds. Not dividing countries, but dividing people within one.

[Gayathri Narasimhan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked up this book from the souvenir shop at the Partition museum in Amritsar. After spending over 2 hours at the museum, listening to some of the most harrowing stories, I was filled with patriotic fervour. I knew that the Sixth River was going to be a heart wrenching read- and this was clear from the introduction. Maaz does an incredible job at setting the context for the book, leading me to annotate almost every line of the introduction.
But when I got to the actual book, I was left slightly disappointed. Despite reading descriptions of horrific events, I was unable to understand the emotion that was meant to come through. Descriptions of the events that left me teary eyed in the introduction were lost in translation in Fikr’s writing.
The last 20 pages of Fikr’s account in India are extremely emotional and left a lasting impression on me.
Overall, I would recommend this book to anyone trying to get a more anecdotal perspective of the Partition. But, if you can read Urdu, then you’re probably in for a cry fest

[Shubham · Rating 5 out of 5]

Originally written in urdu as "Chatta Darya".
Written in satire with poetic nuances, doesn't feel forced, written as a daily dairy entry by an Indian urdu poet choosing to stay in Lahore, Pakistan during the times turmoil and riots of Independence.

[Neer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Harrowing like anything and everything related to Partition. More here: https://ahotcupofpleasureagain.wordpr...

[DigiDir Agency · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nice Book, check our profile DigiDir