||Yeh Gulsitan Hamara|| FF

"The Vision."

With the hope that the story will be accepted, I would like to present this journey of emotions and struggle towards a better society, which led to our heart remain divided forever, and how much we try we can't deny that Partition indeed has scarred our past.

The story has been written with a purpose, purpose to recreate the era of Independence, when the country and its residers fought in the hope to see India or the other country where now lives their long lost companions to lead their respective countries to a new life of glory, contentment peace where each child would sleep without fearing the dark, where each woman would be safe even at the stroke of midnight, where each man will have enough food to eat and a shelter to stay in, where the difference in class and caste won't lead to any dispute, where each one would be equally regarded.

They had a vision, where each men were supposed to be happy and liberated in every possible manner. But as we see our country today, is it what it was supposed to be? Are we really living our share of freedom? Are everyone equally free and unexploited? Our country is yet to be independent, and with this story I myself along with every reader would look forward for reasons to churn a change as we browse through the pages of history. So I would simply say let's try to live upto their expectation as good citizens and greater thinkers?

I N D E X

Prologue- Page One

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There is purely no motive to hurt any sentiments or create any tiff between the two communities or countries which were associated with the separation of the sub-continent. As an Indian, this is purely the story of Indians during that time. Our past someway or the other is influenced by the year of both faces of freedom. The story is not meant to hurt the sentiments of any reader in any manner. If country A was called terrorists for country B, it was true the other way round as well. This story is written keeping country A's situation in mind. A similar fiction can be written keeping country B in mind as well as the situations were true for both, in favor of their own nations' pride. Anyway, this story focuses more on the invaders.

Disclaimer #5:

India during that time. Our past someway or the other is influenced by the year of both faces of freedom. The story entirely revolves around Bengal, which was later seperated into West Bengal which belonged to India (name still remains the same) and East Bengal which was known as East Pakistan, bein the part of Pakistan Union (which won independence later and was named Bangladesh since 1971)

Disclaimer #6: As the background is of a Bengali society, the surnames/titles the characters have been changed. Most of us have read about radicals, moderates, extremists, Muslim League, INC,Calcutta being one of the first regions to experience riots and endless fighters who have created revolutions. Lets explore the non-fiction via a fiction.

Inspiration: Pari(gujjupari) I am not starting my rant right now.

You inspire me to write with your kind words and Dher Saara Pyaar.

Just know that you're too special to make me post this.

Your Baba just decided to obey you.

P.S.-I am not saying HBD again as its not yet your B'day bae!

Do me a favor, make Sita read this as well as he really is the second reason for me to post this.

(Don't faint now)

Originally posted by: BeyondWords

Chapter 1.

He saw the golden liquid swirl in the crystal glass he was holding, the tinkling of the fast melting ice cubes lost in the din that encased him. There was an eccentric, eerie silence in his head. Glancing at the ticket which said London to Calcutta, he raised the glass to his lips and hesitated for a second before allowing the liquid to touch his lips and make its way down his gullet. He grimaced at the taste but straightened his face as soon as he felt the warmth of the scotch warm his entrails. Encouraged by the comfortable feeling that had settled into his blood a few minutes later, he emptied the glass in one giant swig, gratified for the burning liquid coursing down his throat and eventually his blood. The heaviness in his chest seemed to lighten, even if just by an iota. He, Manik Sanyal, a twenty-seven year old lawyer, was called to resue the land where he was born and had lived his early years from the invaders. But he himself had lived and studied with the men for five long years, who now had invaded his motherland.

I understand the conflict you are trying to portray here! I actually do (or maybe I am just thinking that maybe I do xP and the fact that I relate to it!) This character here symbolises how an individual can be torn between duty and loyalty! Being educated in Britain, Manik would feel loyal towards the nation, and hence his ways would be more westernised! His thinking would clash against those that live in India! Basically due to how he was brought up for 9 years of his life (loyalty) where he understood the world around him more, (it has shaped his behaviour and outlook [I got that from the way he was drinking the alcohol]) will contradict and hence fuel the fire when he is brought back to India to rebel against the invaders! Sort of a coming to age background! Possibly a whole lot of scenes where he would feel out of place, out of context, feel like he doesn't belong?

She stood on top of the pavilion with her arms spread allowing her pristine white Chiffondupatta to billow in the warm breeze. Jet black wisps escaped the tightly oiled braid and caressed her face. Nandini had the biggest smile on her face, which faded instantly as she heard the loud male shriek. She pulled her ghargra and ran towards the railing. Her anklet tinkled in the silence as she paced to peep down. Nandini saw the man who was being tortured to death. Blood was oozed as his skin was being peeled. Nandini closed her eyes in a moment of silence, remembering her father, wondering if he was looking down at her and her brother sacrificing all they had for their country, just the way he wanted. He would have been proud if he were alive. Nandini, an ideal seventeen year old. Well mannered, academically brilliant, courageous, mature beyond her age, extremely sensible and street smart girl. She opened her eyes and allowed the yellow rays of sun dazzle her gace and her dupatta with utmost beauty.She went down the stairs of the huge mansion which belonged to the richest landlords of the time, her grandfather, and opened the door ajar to peek out. The Englishman was still there, plunging the knife in the already dead man. She took the gun out, which was near her waist, hidden by the Kamarband, just the way it always was and aimed it towards the back of the murderer. She triggered, smiled with tears in her eyes as she heard his enemy howl with pain and closed the door behind her. She kept her gun intact just as she had kept for so long and walked into the library.

Nandini! I think her character is more of what Manik needs in order to break away from his 9 years of residence in a foreign land. A girl who has been brought up in an environment where violence and discrimination is as common as the sun rising and setting every day. A form of reality needed to Manik's fantasy (Fantasy is not right word, I know... More like delusion?) in order to make him realise the extent to which their lives have been miserable. From this teaser, I personally see her as acting like a catalyst to Manik! Definitely an improved version this is! And that too how and with what sass! (I am sure you know what I mean!)

With a fountain pen in hand and white blotted sheet rested on his chest, twenty-five year old Dhruv sat on the rock, waiting for the ship of the company to come so that he could get some information regarding their unusual conference to be held with the Muslim League the following week. A riverine port in the city of Kolkata, it was the oldest operating port in India which was constructed by the British East India Company. He could see the Crew load and unload on one side of port when he heard a sudden whimper to which he looked at the source, only to find the man selling ice from a pushcart across the road being stabbed. Without wasting a minute more he started moving towards the corpse. The blood had washed the road red and after around an hour was the cadaver taken away. By then had the water had fallen on the blood with steady driblets from the melting ice. The blood and the ice remained untouched on the road as he and some other men enquired about the incident precisely, when he heard a boy shout at the coagulated blood from the tonga that passed by "Look Ma, Jelly"

My favourite part of the teasers! "Look Ma, Jelly"

The use of innocent humour to pack punch! The use of a satirical line to provoke sentiments of not misery, not like helplessness! The truth told by an innocent soul! The extent to which brutality for widespread that even children could not be shielded from it. I don't choke on it anymore, but the line still haunts! Maybe because how horrid the image looked that had been imprinted in my mind!

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P.S.-This is Iptisha!

P.S.~ I know😆

A/N: I am well aware that during those days, Bengali girls either wore long frocks or draped a saree, yet I wanted the girl in this story I dressed her up like A Gujrati girl as I really like The Kamarband- Ghagra Choli attire for little girls. Anyway, this is a fiction so little changes won't be too bad, I guess.

Hai? Really?

PS: No innocent factor this time around?