India After Gandhi - pg. 108

By May 1948 some 12,500 women had been found and restored to their families. Ironically, and tragically,  many of the women did not want to be rescued, for after their seizure they had made some kind of peace with their new surroundings. Now, as they were being reclaimed, these women were deeply unsure about how their original families would receive them. They had been "defiled" and, in a further complication, many were pregnant. These women knew that even if they were acepted, their children -- born out of a union with the "enemy" -- would never be. Often, the police and their accomplices had to use force to take the women away. "You could not save us then," said the women; "what right have you to comple us now?" 

India After Gandhi - pg. 31

The clinical even-handedness of the violence was described by the Punjab correspondent of the respected Madras-based weekly, Swatantra. He wrote of seeing

an empty refugee special steaming into Ferozepur Station late one afternoon. The driver was incoherent with terror, the guard was lying dead in his van, and the stoker was missing. I walked down the platform -- all but two bogies [carriages] were bespattered with blood inside and out; three dead bodies lay in pools of bloood in a third class carriage. An armed Muslim mob had stopped the train between Lahore and Ferozepur and done this neat job of butchery in broad daylight.

There is another sight I am not likely to easily forget. A five-mile long caravan of Muslim refugees crawling at a snail's pace into Pakistan over the Sutlej Bridge. Bulock-carts piled high with pitiful chattels, cattle being driven alongside. Women with babies in their arms and wwretched little tin-trunks on their heads. Twenty thoussand men, women and children trekking into the promised land -- not because it is the promised land, but because bands of Hindus and Sikhs in Faridkot Staate and the interior of Ferozepur district had hacked hundreds of Muslims to death and maade life impossible for the rest.

Aaj AkkhaaN Waris Shah Nu

aaj aakhaN Waris Shah nuuN, kitoN kabraaN vichchoN bol,
te aaj kitab-e ishq daa koii aglaa varkaa phol

ik roii sii dhii punjaab dii, tuuN likh likh maare vaen,
aaj lakhaaN dhiiaaN rondiaa, tainuN waris shah nuN kahen

uTh dardmandaaN diaa dardiaa, uth takk apnaa Punjaab
aaj bele lashaaN bichhiaaN te lahu dii bharii chenab

kise ne panjaN paniaN vichch dittii zahar ralaa
te unhaaN paniiaaN dharat nuuN dittaa paanii laa

is zarkhez zamiin de luun luun phuttia zaher
gitth gitth charhiaaN laaliaN fuuT fuuT charhiaa kaher

veh valliissii vha pher, van van vaggii jaa,
ohne har ik vans di vanjhalii ditti naag banaa

pehlaa dang madaariaN, mantar gaye guaach,
dooje dang di lagg gayii, jane khane nuN laag

laagaaN kiile lok muNh, bus phir dang hi dang,
palo palii punjaab de, neele pae gaye ang

gale`oN tutt`e geet phir, takaleon tuttii tand,
trinjanoN tuttiaaN saheliaaN, chaRakhRre ghuukar band

sane sej de beriaaN, luddaN dittiaaN rohr,
sane daliaan peengh aj, piplaaN dittii toR

jitthe vajdii sii phuuk pyaar dii, ve oh vanjhalii gayii guaach
raanjhe de sab veer aaj, bhul gaye uhadii jaach

dhartii te lahoo varsiyaa, kabraaN paiaaN choan,
preet diaaN shaahzaadiaaN, aaj vichch mazaaraaN roan

aaj sabbhe `Qaido` ban gaye, husn ishq de chor
aaj kitthoN liaaiye labbh ke waris shah ik hor

aaj aakhaN waris shah nuuN, kitoN kabraan vichchoN bol,
te aaj kitaab-e ishq daa, koii aglaa varkaa phol

Larva - pg. 25

Her bronze body aroused, her eyes like coal. Jewel¹ of fire in her humid hollow. Savoraciously tasting her everywhere. Afternoon Indian delight. Pungent flavor - clove? - on the tip of her tongue. Ah! ah her hot breath, of curry² and tea. Hot feverish gypsy skin. Caress after caress, simmering on her own salsalacity. Cool sweat flowing under her arms.³ Down her valleys; five rivulets down the anointed body of that daughter of Punjab. Moist silky smoothness.⁴ And the slippery seductress slid away. Silk soothing the senses ... Succulent slipperiness! then off she slipped, lickety-split. A cool fleeting kiss and fear in her glance. Time already!

1. Rubify!:
Oui, il faut franchir le rubis con ... You've got to cross the ruby, conman!

2 Currying flavor .. .:
With Madame Curry. Caress, careless ...

3. Axiliary elixir?:
Ambrosia. Elixir, sir. Indian nectar, amrit! from that panicked girl, an Amritsar native.

4. Silk skin, like watered silk?:
Springing forth thread by thread ... Mana emanating ... Venerable venery, forbiddent fountain. Mana, a spring in summer. Skinny-deep, deep unfathomed lake, abysmal font. And you drowning in her arms. Until you touch bottom, in pleasure.

5. Mana Kaur..:
The slave-princess of Indian shop on Shepherd's Bush Road where you used to buy your evening supplies - and the apple, the only one, of discord. Distant and different, your Mana ... So exotic in these clothes. In a sari and always so serious, tied to the cash register. And constantly watched by the gray-bearded guy in the turban. His eyes threw sparks the time you tried to talk to her, while you searched your pockets for the remaining pence. Until you had the opportunity to approach her alone, in the Brook Green phone booth, in front of her school.