March 23rd 1940. I couldn’t sleep last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about the rapidly changing situation of the country. Finally, after fajir, I decided to go out for a walk to calm my mind. The weather was pleasant and as I stepped onto the road, I could hear the bells of milkmen on the cycles. The unrest in my heart was slowly settling.

“Everything has changed,” I thought to myself as I reached the corner of the street. Hostility towards us from Hindus had increased over the past few years. We were mocked in the streets and even a few Hindu merchants refused to sell their products to us this month.

“Why this hostility? We were like brothers and sisters to each other …” the rail of my thoughts didn’t seem to stop.

“My mother and Aunty Kaur, once inseparable friends, barely visit each other now. Even I had no contact with my childhood friend, Hardeep. I know things will never be the same again. Chaos and riots have increased and it was now essential for one to keep a weapon at home for self-defence,” I thought as I stood motionless on the corner.

Just then Chacha Hakeem summoned me for breakfast. I nodded and followed him to our home a few steps ahead. I slowly walked to the table where I saw parathay and omelette being served, I sat quietly.

“So you think Jinnah will cancel this Ialsa?” Uncle Rashid said while pouring Lassi into the glass.

“No, he won’t.”

“But there’s a security threat, and God knows what will happen. Do you remember the Jallianwala Bagh massacre?” my father replied.

“Of course, who can forget that dreadful day, but this gathering (jalsa) is really important. The resolution for the creation of an independent Muslim state will be passed today,” uncle Rashid said.

“Yes, today is important, he’s going to demand a separate homeland officially,” my father said in an inspiring tone.

“Stop talking now, you all. Focus on your breakfast,” Phuppo Sakeena said. There was now silence.

My family had planned to attend this gathering, but they were having second thoughts about it due to the security threats.

“I want to go no matter what,” I insisted to my father and, to my surprise, he agreed instantly. A horse cart was called for us to travel. I sat with great excitement on that carriage, excited to see all the great leaders including Maulvi A.K Fazlul Huq, the Chief Minister of Bengal, Chaudhary Khaliquzzam, Maulana Zafar Ali Khan, Sardar Aurangzeb, Sir Abdullah Haroon, and Qazi Muhammad Esa and of course, Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

I was full of zeal to witness this majestic event, our horse carriage made its way through the narrow streets of Lahore and finally reached its destination, Manto Park. I was in awe as I saw a big crowd — in fact, the word ‘big’ cannot do justice to what I saw. It was a sea of people, all gathered for one reason, the demand for a separate homeland.

The speeches started and then I saw Jinnah walk onto the stage. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I saw such a great personality at a distance of a few metres away from me. This gathering suddenly filled me with an unexplainable strength and I felt energetic as I listened to Quaid’s words.

That day, the resolution for a separate homeland for Muslims of the subcontinent was passed. I knew that we’d have to sacrifice a lot, because no victory comes without sacrifices. But, like everyone present there, I was also ready!

Published in Dawn, Young World, March 23rd, 2024