I dug a grave in the backyard of Ayesha Manzil with the help of Fazlo baba and Kalsoom and buried Faizan. Then, we made a big crater next to the grave and hid the gold bag. I was amazed at Kalsoom‘s courage and nerve. Faizan was her husband and she was forcefully married to him.

Hakeem had no say in it since he was already living away from his family due to a dispute with his brothers. Kalsoom was Hakeem’s sister and so I gave her his room in the haveli. She was a little older than me. Everyone knew what had happened but opted to remain quiet. I talked to Sakina and explained to her the situation. She was terrified as she had already seen his husband being killed by the Sikh mob near Wahga. I offered her a safe exit and some money if she wants to leave but she opted to stay. My mother as usual said nothing.

The next task on my priority list was to go and look for Shahzadi. However, I stayed back for six months. I thought that Faizan might have told Hamid Ali in Shekhupura that he was going to Ayesha Manzil to get his wife back. I was expecting Hamid Ali to come looking for him. Kalsoom told me that Faizan has three brothers back in Fazilka who might suspect that something is wrong but nobody came even after the lapse of six months. The border had also been closed. Faizan’s absence from scene may create some doubts, but for the time being everything was normal. Lahore was flooded with refugees. There were still Hindu influentials in the city waiting for suitable buyers for their properties. I consulted with Fazlo baba and bought a few shops and couple of houses around Ayesha Manzil and rented these out. I gave charge of these properties to Fazlo baba who hired two local guys to help him. I personally vetted these guys and allowed them to stay in the servant quarter.

With money came enemies and I needed guards at my house especially during my absence. It was now time to pay a visit to Shahzadi’s village near Kasur.

Kasur is located in the south of Lahore at a distance of about 50km. Shahzadi’s village, Gandda Singhwala, was situated on Kasur-Firozpur Road. I had spent one week with Shahzadi in the Hakeem’s village before going to Ajmer Sharif. I reached Kasur city by midday and decided to stay the night there before going to Shahzadi’s village. The border on Kasur-Firozpur road was also closed. There had been little to no transportation available as most of the buses belonged to the Hindu community who had migrated to India. The only bus to the Firozpur border was to leave at 7 a.m. Gandda Singwala was about two hour ride from Kasur. I reached there before 9. The village consisted of no more than 100 houses that were all surrounded by vast fields. I could see BRB canal and the thought of Shahzadi brought a smile to my face. I did not want to raise any suspicion, therefore I had come with a plan. I adopted the cover of a government representative doing survey of refugees in the area and any damage caused to the local inhabitants or properties. I was guided by one farmer to the Chaudhry’s house which was prominently located on far side of the village. I walked into the sitting area of the house with a procession of young boys and girls. I was carrying couple of registers and was wearing a Jinnah cap. In the meantime, I was served with salty lassi. Chaudhry Yaseen came to see me after a while.

He was an old man who had a wrinkled face filled with sadness and grief. He was accompanied by his two guards and a munshi. I introduced myself from the newly formed refugee survey department and inquired about any refugee in the village. I was told that there were a lot of refugee families in the beginning but few months ago they all moved to Lahore for registration.

“Were there any causality in the village due to partition?” I asked a question that silenced the whole gathering.

There was a long pause before Chaudhry Yaseen started talking with utmost pain in his voice.

“This village had most of the Muslim families. There were few Sikhs whom we allowed a safe exit. There was no bloodshed here but many of our beloved family members have gone missing. Last year, Master Jamil with his wife and daughter went to Ajmer Sharif by train and never returned back. Master Jamil’s daughter was engaged to my son Hashmat Khan. One whole month passed but there was no sign of Master Jamil or his family. We were getting reports of attacks on Muslims. My son Hashmat Khan gathered ten best men from the village and went out looking for them. It has been over eight months. We don’t know what happened to Master Jamil or to my son and ten other men of my village. I beg you to please help us find our missing people. I am sure they must be alive.”

Chaudhry Yaseen literally had tears in his eyes. Everyone was saddened. Hashmat Khan had taken ten men from the village with him and none of them had returned back. It was a little weird. I promised Chaudhry Yaseen that I would inform the appropriate authorities to look out for his son and her fiancée. I could not tell him that Master Jamil and his wife were killed in the train by Kamal Khan soon after they had left Fazilka. I had saved Shahzadi with the help of Hakeem. Shahzadi was taken away by Hashmat Khan from Hakeem’s village and they headed back here. Something had happened in between that none of them come back here. I decided to go there and look for them.

I did not want to return to Lahore and waste more time. I told Chaudhry Yaseen that I needed a ride to Firozepur border as I have to collect some data from there as well. He gave me a horse and again begged me to look for his son.

After having lunch with Chaudhry Yaseen, I started my journey to Ferozepur border which was about 15km from the village. I reached there before dark. I was stopped at a military check post but I pretended to be a Hindu and explained to them that my relatives live across the border. Although there were numerous small tracks leading onto the other side but I wanted to remain on the main road. There was no well defined line or fence at that time which can indicate the border alignment. With some convincing, I was allowed to go. There was a military check post on the other side as well. I told them the same story and they also allowed me to go. It was about dark when I entered the city of Ferozepur. There was silence everywhere. The city looked like a ghost town. It was a Muslim majority area forcefully given to India. Most of the Muslim families here did not want to leave and hence were executed and their houses were burnt. Those who left were looted on roads and killed. I was riding on my horse passing through the deserted streets of Firozepur when I spotted a bus stand. A small cabin at its entrance was lit. I looked around and got off my horse. There were few buses parked in the stand but there was no sign of any human there. I knocked on door of the cabin and it opened immediately. There was an old man who welcomed me with open hands. He was perhaps glad to see another human being. I told him that I have to go to Fazilka. He told me that at present there is no bus going anywhere due to shortage of passengers and non availability of fuel. I told him that I will give him my horse and some money if he arranged for my transportation to Fazilka.

“I know a bus driver who lives nearby. His bus is parked here. I can talk to him,” he said after thinking for a while.

Fazilka is about 100km from Firozepur. I was the only passenger in the bus; it almost took four hours to reach there. The bus driver dropped me at the bus station and immediately returned back to Firozepur. Fazilka was as crowded as I had seen the first time about eight months back. I had come back to this city with Hakeem while going to Bahawalpur. It was my third visit here. I could see the railway station building from where I was standing. It reminded me of my train ride with Shahzadi and her family. I was then going to Ajmer Sharif to kill my own father but now I had returned here to find Shahzadi and Hashmat Khan. I spent next one month looking for them. I went back to Hakeem’s village and was devastated to find Hakeem’s remains in the crater which we both had dug to hide the gold. Faizan had killed him but eventually met his fate.

My untiring search finally provided me with a lead. I knew Hashmat Khan was moving with Shahzadi and ten guards.

How is it possible that they disappeared without a trace. I went to all the neighboring places of Hakeem’s village and inquired from every living soul about this group. An old man in the adjoining town told me that this group of men with one girl had come to spend the night in a small hotel of the town. This old man worked in that hotel which was later destroyed and its owner was killed. The old man further told me that the hotel owner arranged a lorry for these people which took them next morning to Firozepur. The old man remembered exactly that the lorry driver returned the next day and told the hotel owner that his vehicle developed some problem so he stayed the night at Firozepur. I got the name and address of the driver who lived nearby. The driver with a little persuasion of money told me that he had dropped the group at Firozepur bus station and then returned back home the same day.

While I was trying to spend the sleepless night in that forsaken town that something stuck in my mind and I jumped out of bed. The driver was not telling the truth. Is he hiding something? I had to find it out. It was the middle of the night and I thought it appropriate to interrogate the driver again with the help of a knife instead of money. As I got up from the bed, my head started spinning. My feet lost ground. I fell down and my whole body started jerking intensely. I was unable to think of anything. The image of my father appeared in front of my eyes before I passed out completely.