In Rawalpindi, my family ran a grain store in the centre of the city which was predominantly Muslim. We are Sikhs but my father was friends with the Muslims. They used to talk about poetry together. We moved to Jalandhar in India because of partition. There were riots forcing the Muslims to go to Pakistan. My uncle said we should go and occupy the Muslims’ houses as people were leaving. My father was reluctant but he was forced to do it by his brother. As the Muslim family was leaving the house, I remember because I was there, about 12 at the time, my father apologised to the owner, an elderly gentleman, saying how sorry he was that this was happening. My father promised to look after the house. And the man said, please just look after my books.  They are more important to me than the house.

Then a day later we heard that they were all killed by a Sikh mob on the way to Pakistan. They didn’t reach the border.