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Partition

Arshad, Arati, and Avtar Singh

The 1947 Partition Archives documents real-life accounts of those who lived through the violent migration during the partition of the subcontinent, the horrors that affected millions, and the lasting impact of the British Raj

By Parniyan Bashar | July 2026

For younger generations of Pakistanis, recollections of history begin and end with the gruelling CAIE assessments. The long race to the elusive A* is strenuous. Once it’s over, the emotions of learning the struggles of our ancestors and the pressure to “win the game” of the exams culminate in a cathartic finish. And so does the weight of responsibility of this precious knowledge.

After moving to university, I began to question my identity and patriotism. Admittedly, I’m as guilty of leaving behind the overwhelming history of the subcontinent after examinations were complete.

This realisation was a solemn reckoning, and living in the United Kingdom for over 4 years compelled me to accept my grandfather’s invitation to revisit history, this time with care and intention, and I am grateful to have attended the launch of ‘The 1947 Partition Archives’ in the United Kingdom.

The founding team of ‘The 1947 Partition Archives’ took inspiration from the testimonies of those who survived the horrors in Hiroshima. What stood out was the emotional depth of these testimonies, in contrast to the cold, hard descriptions often common within historical documentation. While historical documentation is undoubtedly useful, they leave out the subjective, human experience and loss of personhood in the wake of such devastating events, which is why such recordings become more important as we move further away from the events that transpired.

The 1947 Partition Archives began as an effort due to the growing fear of our disappearing history. As those who witnessed the partition of the subcontinent grow older, the personal and up-close accounts begin to fade. The non-profit organisation noted this in 2009, striving to use evolving technologies and stored over 12,500 stories and experiences of more than 10,000 citizen historians online. These stories document real-life accounts of those who lived through the violent migration, the horrors that affected thousands, and the lasting impact of the British Raj.

The organisation has made great strides in their recording methods, and currently, its website displays all its information in real time, highlighting stories as well as following on social media. From cassette tapes, The 1947 Partition Archives now use cloud storage, putting special emphasis on ensuring that their accounts include a wide range of sources, hearing voices from across the subcontinent.

The 1947 Partition Archives team held an event at King’s College in April to commemorate the launch of their archive and memorial in London. Including two musical performances, an introduction to the organisation, and narrated witness stories, the event was a reminder of the emotional dimension lost over the years of declining conversations surrounding the partition.

As highlighted by the team, one way they measure online engagement with topics regarding the partition was through Google’s search analytics, which display the number of searches a particular keyword receives, thus exhibiting that keyword’s popularity. From being searched one or twice to now almost a hundred a month, the organisation has successfully gained more attention, getting more people to revisit history in a more engaged manner.

The most emotionally impactful portion of the seminar was the witness stories by the panellists, Arshad Khan, Arati Banerjea and Avtar Singh. They narrated their experiences of migration, the events during the partition and the effects of the Second World War, which only exacerbated suffering tenfold.


Arshad was first to narrate his story about his journey from Bombay to Quetta, a smooth journey made countless times before partition. He recalled when Indians were processed at the port, called out by their religions; Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims, to their designated areas. Arshad poignantly described this new and uncomfortable reckoning, being made acutely aware of the differing religious identities, before which everyone was simply an Indian. The trains overflowed, the streets were deserted, and the British were nowhere to be seen. He described the seas of travellers, like “colourful mosaics of people,” as if a microcosm of India was placed on a small train platform.

He narrated his time in Quetta, which, being close to Afghanistan, was a different world compared to the bustling cosmopolitan cities of Lahore and Delhi. Women wore burkas, the desert climate forced men to wear different attire, and the empty, stretched lands of Balochistan were barren and dry. He and his family lived beside a Sikh family, most closely connected to the family head, Sahib Singh, whom they loved as an uncle figure. Sadly, Sahib Singh was killed during the violence and struggles of the ongoing migration.

After moving from Quetta, he did not hear from Sahib Singh’s family until almost 78 years later. After Arshad posted his story on Facebook, a young lady replied saying the story sounded like her father’s; finding Sahib Singh’s son, Harjeet, who remembered the love his and Arshad’s family had for one another, finding solace despite their differing backgrounds after all the years. Harjeet passed shortly after, but the reignited connection is a solemn yet persistent reminder of shared histories, strength and sufferings.

You may record your or your family’s stories through the website https://www.1947partitionarchive.org/ if you took part in the migrations during the partition of the subcontinent or were personally affected by the event

Next was Arati, born in British India, now modern-day Bangladesh. She highlighted a different side of the partition, emphasising the skewing of historical documentation towards the Western side of India. Later, Arati moved to England, working with the National Health Service (NHS) for many years until retirement. She recounts the positive sentiment and general opinion in Britain that partition had been smooth and organised, when it was anything but.

Born in times of extreme suffering, living through the Bengal famine and the Second World War, what was most interesting was her historical analysis, citing how the initial Bengal partition during the British Raj, enacted by Lord Curzon, led to the Calcutta Killings, further exacerbated by the All India Muslim League’s desire for partition.

Arati highlighted solemnly how the joy of a free India was in stark contrast to reality, that most were experiencing homelessness, poverty and extreme hunger. Like Arshad, she described the sea of people stuck at small train stations and heightened tensions between differing religious identities, Hindus mocking the homeless, and Muslims keeping out Bengalis.

She concluded that the Christian presence during the British Raj had caused the most damage to the religious identities and their dynamics. This, again, highlighted the lasting effects of colonisation after the British left the subcontinent, leaving behind extreme tensions, close to no functioning infrastructure and rampant violence.

Lastly was Avtar Singh, born in Burma, where his father had worked as an engineer for four decades. When the Japanese invaded, Avtar’s family decided to move back to India when he was ten. It took three months to make it to India, travelling by foot, train, carts, boats, anything to make it back home. By the time they reached India, they had already lost multiple family members.

When Avtar turned fifteen, he heard about the partition over the radio and, like Arati and Arshad, saw trains overflowing, people squeezed onto carriages and sitting atop roofs. The trains from Lahore to Delhi were filled with Hindus and Sikhs. On the opposite platform were trains filled with Muslims going from Delhi to Lahore. Avtar described the horrors in detail: dead bodies piling up on trains, children hiding in fields when trains stopped between villages to save themselves, and even losing his friends on the journey.

Not long before, he had suffered through the Second World War and the helplessness, the endless and exhausting travels ended in more violence.
Avtar’s testimony was a fitting end to the seminar, leaving the audience with a message to continue discussing history, however painful to reminisce, so future generations understand the struggles their ancestors lived through. More importantly, he emphasised that these stories are not meant to exacerbate our present differences, but rather to remember a time when we were all one, living together despite our differences.

One could argue that there’s no point in lamenting the past. However, the seminar taught me what the 1947 Partition Archive Organisation was trying to instil. It’s not about some systematic approach to changing government or fixing deep-seated national problems. It’s about connecting people and reinvigorating a sense of community. The audience comprised different parts of South Asia, not just the subcontinent, and what brought everyone together was the shared sense of pain as well as healing.

The seminar made me reflect on the strange moral superiority in the way we teach history. History is essentially storytelling, and there’s no story better than the triumphant underdog story, which is precisely the issue; wars and atrocities are not fictional narratives but tragedies with real pain and suffering. Making history play sides, making one party seem more justified, waters down the reality of such experiences. It becomes grounds for comparisons with other histories; our history was more painful, their atrocity was not as violent.

Comparisons are futile when you hear just one in-person account of an individual’s experience and suffering. It quietens you, all the fight you had to participate in mindless mental gymnastics washes away, hearing the accounts of an individual who saw their loved ones killed, was uprooted and took on a new identity and home against their choosing.

I strongly encourage you to record your or your family’s stories if you took part in the migrations or were personally affected by the event, through the website: https://www.1947partitionarchive.org/.

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