what jobs can make you a millionaire without a degree

date: 06 mar 2008


the indian partition and independence

author: george r boyden on friday, february 29, 2008 - 02:01 am printable page   email to a friend 

by: george r boyden

the following is an account by early-teen moslem refugee boys whose family left a very contented life as a wealthy family in india and moved to the new state of pakistan in 1947, the time of india independence and partition of pakistan. (i was young at this time, but recall discussions in my high school classes about gandhi, the withdraw of britain from india, and the murder-trains and atrocities going on in the indian sub-continent.) the book was authored in 1974 by one of these one-time teen age boys and his american-jewish wife. he chose to come to america when he was yet in his teens having read about the american constitution, jefferson, and abraham lincoln. the scene described here from the book is the observation of one of these moslem teens: 

"the two refugee brothers returning home (1947) from a visit in the center of town of multon, discerned fire and smoke in the distance. learning it was coming from the railroad station in the town they ran to the station. "a long express train was bitten through with flame and standing half in the station and half out. to the two boys this was an all too familiar sight. they could not make out any people, but the sounds of distant screaming leaped into their ears." one boy whispered to his brother "oh god, this is a train riot.' 

a bullock cart was racing toward them straight through the paddies, the bull snorting as the driver beat his back incessantly with whistling lashes of his stick, the bulls back was scored with cuts and spurting blood." the boys inquired from the farmer what was happening. 

a bullock cart was racing toward them straight through the paddies, the bull snorting as the driver beat his back incessantly with whistling lashes of his stick, the bulls back was scored with cuts and spurting blood." the boys inquired from the farmer what was happening. 

"the refugees of multan have attacked a hindu train, called out the farmer as the cart passed them. they could see the train cars clearer and clearer as they neared the train. flames were pouring from the windows and engulfing the roof where hundreds of hindus were standing together and trying to leap through the fire. muslim men in white pajamas were running toward the station from the trestle over the canal, all converging on the parked train, while hindus poured away from the train in great waves, mothers and young girls screaming and clutching their children against their saris, which twirled from their bodies in a frantic unfurling of cloth everyone was running with arms outstretched as if gasping at the sky and fields for air, their charcoal-streaked and bleeding faces lit with terror. a battalion of carts raced back and forth beside the train, horses and oxen braying and rearing up on their haunches as smoke swirled around their heads and stung their eyes, but the drivers kept beating the animals. hundreds of men were pulling valises and bundles from the fleeing hindus, knocking their heads with long sticks which they waved wildly overhead and piling the carts full of looted belongings of the hindus." 

"people were running in every direction. a band of muslim men in white, as they ran, drew knives and guns from their belts and brandished them in the air, grabbing the hindus like fistfuls of booty, by the hems of their dhotis and the ends of their saris, and plunging their knives into flesh with cries of 'hai allah' as great gurgles of blood washed over their bodies and screams pierced the earth and sky and fields. a burly man with face flushed red shouted 'you are not hindus, arm yourselves,' this is a jihad. it is a holy war. it is your duty as muslims to fight." 

"while trainmen were attempting to locate the car where the emergency cord had been pulled that stopped the train, ten times as many muslim men streaming out of multon carrying fire torches, leaped into the mob and hurled the torches onto the roofs of the train and against the shuttered windows of the train compartments. the hundreds of hindu families locked inside were screaming and beating their bodies against the walls. they were trying to stay inside the train, but as a car caught fire, the windows were heaved open and fathers threw their children onto the tracks while the muslim rioters pushed them back through the smoke and flames or greeted them with the edge of a blade, slicing their small bodies, gouging their heads and face with the random whiplashes of their knives." "rioters were running after the hindus shouting prayers and slogans and curses all at once. they seemed drunk with excitement, passionate with hysteria, as if participating in a mad carnival of carnage." "i want the testicles with which they raped my wife, i want their fingers which they stole in my house. i want their tongues which preach against muslims and their hearts which hate allah." 

the muslims were doing to the hindus what had been so recently done to them, but they called it holy jihad. in the distance the muslim drums were beating, with calls of 'allah ho akbar,' the hindu prayers were desperate and piercing, 'oh, mata', 'oh, bap', 'mere lal' 'mere sunder', 'mere pritham, oh mother, father, brother, sister! oh, my darling. oh, bagwan, oh, god." 

it is estimated that in excess of one million people died in these train riots both hindus and muslims. hindus asserted it was the muslims who started this wholesale slaughter, muslims blamed the hindus, to the muslims it was called holy jihad. however, killing and looting has been the pattern of islam down through the centuries. 

if this slaughter is holy, can allah be all merciful? when will this all stop? will it happen with the copts? will it be the same in holland? what about britain? is this what is planned for israel? i think so.

millions on this earth will fall victim and suffer the worst kind of death, if this jihad idea keeps moving forward. someday, the world will wake up, or it is doomed. 


quotations are from "refugee" by linda and khalid shah, 1974, thomas y. crowell company, new york, pages 314, 315, 316.