Satya turned to Preeto’s letter. Preeto rarely wrote, but when she did, she filled everything. Unlike her usual meandering missives, Preeto referred to the time Satya rescued her and let her return to Pakistan.

My dearest sister,

I rarely revert to my childhood name for you, but today my heart made me do it.

Satto.

On the day when our innocence was shattered, you ceased being Satto. You metamorphosed into Satya, shrugging aside the castaway skin of Satto. Ever since, you’ve been Satya. The one who endured, the one who fought back. The one who worked miracles.

When we met, I searched in your eyes for hints of my Satto. And I was happy to find some remnants behind Satya’s façade. I did liked Satya, but she was a stranger to me. I knew Satto. And this girl looked just like my sister, but spoke in an unfamiliar language, even if the words were the same.

Your reaction to my decision was clear enough. I hurt you when I requested to be taken back to Pakistan. But it wasn’t easy for me either. I had locked my previous life into a tightly sealed vault. Never thought about it, never thought about you. You, the chink in my armour.

My life was spent in living it on a day-to-day basis. Endless rapes, beatings. A new village every week and a new man on top of me, ending when I was sold to Hasham. His kindness floored me. And he spoke to me like I was a human being. Hasham addressed me. Asking me if I wanted water. I broke down then, sobbing hard. I’m sure he was shocked, wondering if by asking me if I was thirsty, he had somehow instigated a flood!

As usual, I digress…yes, I never thought about you. In my mind, I had hoped you were dead, so you’d have been spared my kind of life. In those days, death was a pardon that many rarely received. I’d pray that for you, Satto. And sometimes, I’d pray that if you were alive, that you were happy.

But mostly, I didn’t think about you. Under Hasham’s love, I flourished, and I kept you at bay.

When I finally laid my eyes on you in Amritsar, your steely-eyed innocence took my breath away. I knew my Satto would move heaven and earth to find me.

But by the time you found me, it was too late. I didn’t need rescuing.

I had fallen in love with my husband and his family. They were my life. I behaved selfishly, especially after you the danger you underwent for me. I’ve always been haunted by your expression when I requested – demanded – to be taken back. The joy when you found me was palpable, and I stripped you of it. I know you’ve forgiven me for it, but I wanted to lessen my burden/reason and lay it on your very capable shoulders.

Again.

You know why it was easy to tell you to let me go, to form those traitorous sentences? Because I was talking to Satya and not my little brat of a sister, Satto. Because it wasn’t you in front of me, but a strong young girl who could take the world on. Not the girl whom I last met, with her tight pigtails and love for mithai. You were a totally different person, and someone I could make demands of. Not that it was easy.

That face still bore a resemblance to my naïve Satto.

When you lowered your head, I saw the hurt. Heard the lost girl’s unspoken appeals to not leave her again, to not hurt her.

Yes, I heard them. But my maternal instincts made me immune. I stuffed them in the same vault. I wanted to return to my son. And to give a father to the one inside me.

I had seen how well you had coped with life. But my children were young, they didn’t have your coping mechanism or weren’t as strong as you. I had to go back for them and me. And I knew, even though hurt, you had Prerna Maasi to fall upon. My kids had no one.

I had already lost a family once. I couldn’t risk it again. Choosing to step over your happiness to leave.

I can sense your quizzical eyes pouring over my letter, wondering why I’m raking up lost-forgotten memories? I don’t know either. There was an itch within me to explain.

Maybe the vaults are cracking with age.

As a parent now, you may understand my decision better. The selfish wishes of a mother crushing those of a young, loving sibling. Knowing you, you’d have found a way out to resolve everything. But I’m not smart like you, Satto. I relied upon my basic instincts – my children over my sister.

After so many years, I wanted to apologise to you.

And there was one more thing…

The desperate mother in me saw your face when you faced the young Pakistani army officer. I forgot his name…

Satya’s hot tears fell unchecked on Preeto’s letter. Iqbal. Iqbal Sultan Syed was his name.

…Your face pinched in pain and his narrowed in grief. I saw it all, but I didn’t comment. I was scared if I said something, it may derail my homecoming. So, I kept my selfish mouth shut. Not only had I hurt you by wanting to return, but I was ignoring your sorrow so it wouldn’t delay me.

A fine sister, I was, Satto.

I was on the outskirts of your life, peering in. I was preview to events whose context I didn’t understand and felt ill-equipped to comment, so I kept quiet. I never asked you about that boy who looked at you with stars in his eyes.

I don’t know why you decided eventually, but you knew the situation better.

Today, I remembered the time when we sneaked into our neighbour’s farm, and how we giggled under a shady tree, sucking the stolen sugarcane. How when Papaji found us, giggling over some song, the spat-out husks of sugarcane nearby, he was livid. You took the entire blame for it, even though it was my fault.

While I stood quivering, you took charge and when Papaji had slapped you, I had felt the sting on my cheeks.

I didn’t step in to save you then, and I didn’t step in to save you ever again. Instead, you’ve been saving me ever since.

Today, lost in my memories, I was laughing to myself, and I didn’t know when the laughter turned into tears. When, from enjoying our stories, I began to mourn for them. That’s how life is.

Satto, Satya, the names aren’t relevant. You’re a part of me. We’re sisters, and pieces of Bebe’s heart.

Thank you for returning my life to me. For making me whole again, at a personal cost.

I failed you as an elder sister and a friend, and you deserved better.

Rabb Raakha.

Ghazala (Preeto)

Satya remembered the sugarcane incident well. How young they were! So innocent! Who knew our life was going to mimic the sucked-dry spat-out pieces of the sugarcane?

Reliving the Partition while interviewing people was making her view it through the prism of an adult, not a scared teenager. It lent an air of understanding the madness at that time.

It didn’t make it easier, just made her realise why it happened.

Excerpted with permission from Beneath Divided Skies, Natasha Sharma, Vishwakarma Publications.