Life is a journey: The Khosla family

I was born in Gujranwala in 1935, but later lived in Lahore, where my father had built a house. He would often travel between Lahore and Dandot, District Chakwal, where he had four coal mines. My dada and dadi (paternal grandparents) along with my uncles and their families were in their ancestral home in the old city of Lahore.

I was about 11-12 years old at the time of partition. In 1947 there were lots of riots and killings going on all over India on religious grounds. Lahore was no exception, except luckily, in our colony, Krishan Nagar, nothing happened. But one incident that is still very vivid in my memory.

A very well known family who lived about 1.5 kilometers away, in an area that adjoined the Muslim neighborhood, had temporarily moved in to our relative’s house next door. They wanted to collect some items from their home and needed help. The lady and her daughter, who must have been 13 years old, asked two young men and four to five young boys, including me, to escort them back to their house.

While we were helping the lady collect the items she needed, her daughter went up to the roof. A few minutes later, we heard her screaming hysterically. I ran up to the roof, and what do I see? The house was surrounded by lots of people holding swords and daggers to attack us. We were lucky, as while we were walking over we had met a police inspector on his way to the police post about 50 meters from the house. One of the young men who had accompanied us jumped on to the patio and started shouting for Inspector Malik. Sensing the panic, Inspector Malik rushed toward the house with his pistol in hand and we saw the men who had encircled the house start to run away. All the young boys were told to go back home. The whole scene was so scary that I couldn't sleep for three nights.

Anyway, owing to the riots all over, schools closed early, and not knowing if Lahore would go to India or Pakistan, the family decided to move, temporarily, to this part of the country, thinking that when the situation improved we would go back to Lahore and decide. It was like having early summer holidays – so we came to Amritsar where my older brother was living. Partition happened, and we never went back to Lahore. Everything was left behind. But that wasn’t all. My father, who was also an authority on coal, passed away in June 1948. I was 13. This was a huge setback to the family – emotionally, physically and financially. We all had to start from scratch.

My older brother (closest in age to me) had just completed his undergraduate studies with a Bachelors in Science and wanted to become an engineer – those dreams remained unfulfilled as he now had to support the family. We relocated to Delhi, where we rented a one bedroom apartment in Karol Bagh before moving to Rajinder Nagar – one of the first colonies to come up in Delhi. Rajinder Nagar didn’t even have any electricity yet, and so I was the proverbial child studying under the street lamp. After completing my Inter, I graduated from Punjab University. I moved shortly thereafter to Calcutta, where one of my older brothers was living at the time. As the youngest in the family, I was very fortunate in that my older siblings supported my education, both in India and abroad.

In 1959, I was fortunate enough to go to London to study engineering. I returned in 1963, I worked with a contracting company for 10 years, with a focus on refrigeration and air conditioning, in which I was specialized. Eventually I moved to the Gulf countries, spending 30+ years in Bahrain and Doha, Qatar, before retiring in Gurgaon. My children are both settled abroad – one in the US and one in Doha.

Could the young boy who was thrilled at an early summer vacation have imagined that despite losing the only home he ever knew, he would go on to live in so many different countries and have such a rich fulfilled life?

Life is a journey and teaches you that no matter the circumstance, you have to face it with courage, determination, discipline, hard work and will power.