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“Not a believer in the mosque am I,
Nor a disbeliever with his rites am I.
I am not the pure amongst the impure,
I am neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in the holy books am I,
Nor do I dwell in bhang or wine,
Nor do I live in a drunken haze,
Nor in sleep or waking known.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not in happiness or in sorrow am I found.
I am neither pure nor mired in filthy ground.
Not of water nor of land,
Nor am I in air or fire to be found.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Not an Arab nor Lahori,
Not a Hindi or Nagouri,
Nor a Muslim or Peshawari,
Not a Buddhist or a Christian.
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

Secrets of religion have I not unravelled,
I am not of Eve and Adam.
Neither still nor moving on,
I have not chosen my own name!
Bulleh, I know not who I am.

From first to last, I searched myself.
None other did I succeed in knowing.
Not some great thinker am I.
Who is standing in my shoes, alone?

Bulleh, I know not who I am.”
― Bulleh Shah

“It was too quiet for hope, and then too loud for safety.

She thought of the people she had lost, of the affection, the smiles, the belonging she could never again take for granted. It was the end of a life, and as she stood there, shivering in the brief night-time chill, it dawned on her that it was the end of her childhood.”
― Radhika Swarup, Where the River Parts

“In Stalin’s famous words, one death is a tragedy; one million deaths is a statistic. In this case, it is not even a particularly good statistic. The very incomprehensibility of what a million horrible and violent deaths might mean, and the impossibility of producing an appropriate response, is perhaps the reason that the events following partition have yielded such a great and moving body of fictional literature and such an inadequate and flimsy factual history. What does it matter to the readers of history today whether there were 200,000 deaths, or 1 million, or 2 million? On that scale, is it possible to feel proportional revulsion, to be five times more upset at 1 million deaths than at 200,000? Few can grasp the awfulness of how it might feel to have their fathers barricaded in their houses and burnt alive, their mothers beaten and thrown off speeding trains, their daughters torn away, raped and branded, their sons held down in full view, screaming and pleading, while a mob armed with rough knives hacked off their hands and feet. All these things happened, and many more like them; not just once, but perhaps a million times. It is not possible to feel sufficient emotion to appreciate this monstrous savagery and suffering. That is the true horror of the events in the Punjab in 1947: one of the vilest episodes in the whole of history, a devastating illustration of the worst excesses to which human beings can succumb. The death toll is just a number.”
― Alex von Tunzelmann, Indian Summer: The Secret History of the End of an Empire

“Blood stains are not easy to remove. Yes, and they will enter the rooms and see my bedding. Perhaps a young girl will fit into my daughter’s clothes. Or it’ll all be a waste because they too lost a young daughter in the vadda raula. These clothes will haunt them. They will want to go back. How crazy! I don’t want to be here and they don’t want to be there. They can’t be here and I can’t be there. How absurd! It is like someone just did it in jest. What value does my life have? Zilch. Nobody thought of this? They live with my nightmares, I live with theirs. And then learn to ignore these sounds I hear from the crevices of the new house. Each night I plug my ears and shut my eyes. A new story over my story. The slate has been wiped clean. With blood.”
― Sakoon Singh, In The Land of The Lovers

“People revered his father as the Lion of Punjab, but his mother is the one they should have called Lioness.”
― Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, The Last Queen

“Broaching is a precise machining process in metalworking domain which uses a toothed tool called broach to cut materials into a predetermined shape. Broaching works best for odd shapes where precision machining is needed and hence finds wide application in a number of industry in India and worldwide.
Broach resembles a saw to certain extent but unlike a saw, its teeth become larger in size across its length. A broach gives shapes by roughing or removing the material, semi finishing and then by imparting the ultimate finishing. Round or odd shapes, for both internal and external surfaces, can be conveniently formed by broaching. This multi edge tool can shape any metal or metallic alloy but works best on softer materials like plastic, wood, bronze, aluminum, etc.

Resharpening of the tool
The broach that imparts shape to many work pieces can work properly only when the size and shape of its teeth are perfect. With time and usage, the teeth tend to lose its sharpness and become blunt. Using a dull broach may lead to permanent damage of its teeth. To enhance the broach life and minimize the tooling expense, it needs to be re-sharpened on time.
When to opt for resharpening
When broaching produce roughly shaped work pieces, it is definitely time for re-sharpening. However, with a little bit of watchfulness, one can even get it sharpened before it delivers poor finish or tearing. Some of the other conditions when this toothed tool will require re-sharpening are:
� Excessive hydraulic press pressure required to run the broach
� Nicks and scratches on the teeth making it dull
� Broach starts drifting
� Cutting edges show signs of wear
� Chattering occurs while broaching

Re-sharpening requires high precision. Removing excessive material from the teeth will adversely affect its longevity. Only proper sharpening will ensure time efficiency and high quality output. Teeth welding, grinding of gullets and teeth crest, reshaping teeth to proper taper are some of the methods used in re-sharpening.
Broaching, once used for machining only internal keyways, is now used for machining a plethora of shapes and surfaces for high quantity of work pieces. Broaching requires less tools than most of the other machining process and saves considerable amount of output time and hence favoured for high volume production irrespective of its high cost. In India, broaching finds wide application in the automobile industry. Therefore, a large number of players are foraying into the broach manufacturing industry on a regular basis.”
― Ankur sood

“It was late evening and as she came out to wear her
sneakers, she was met by not a very charitable glance of
another bhaiji. He always sat there, at the entrance, as a kind
of watchman. He commented on Nanaki’s scarf and advised
her to come properly clad in a dupatta. She walked out in a
huff, heckles raised. Who was this man? Who was he to tell
her how she ought to be dressed? Whose rules were these?
In all honesty, Nanaki’s visit to the gurudwara was her own
personal matter. It was more or less an aesthetic experience,
feeding a very personal need for which she felt she owed no
one an explanation.”
― Sakoon Singh, In The Land of The Lovers

“Partition tore India into three pieces. Disaster struck. There was East Pakistan, there was West Pakistan, and there was the rest of India. Millions of people were uprooted from their houses, tens of thousands massacred on both sides. It was one of the greatest mass migrations and killings in human history. People today do not realize the tremendous trauma of Partition, whose negative vibrations continue to haunt us even today.”
― Karan Singh, An Examined Life: Essays and Reflections by Karan Singh

“I would learn many years later that although Sindh and Punjab had been geographically and culturally close, their experience of Partition was vastly different with respect to violence.”
― Rita Kothari, Unbordered Memories : Sindhi Stories Of Partition

“All this had no truck whatsoever with the conditions back home, their travails as marginal farmers, their caste ridden daily struggles, the patriarchal limits on the daily existence of the women. But, really, if you scratched the surface, the colleges were little sanctuaries mirroring the larger social politics, their student politics as ossified and as parochial as the regional politics. Somehow when it came to that, things seem to settle into the old patriarchal, feudal structures with Capitalistic flourishes only outwardly changing appearances. Infact all the more misleading- with modernity being limited to a seductive idea of affluence.”
― Sakoon Singh, In The Land of The Lovers

“Yes good one- hold on tight- to ideas. At times, since we are talking so much about birds and all things avian, these flighty things do have a tendency to spread their gossamer wings and take flight. So you haven’t even begun to see it and it disappears from your view. At times you don’t even know how many of these frisky things you thought of and they instantly frolicked their way into some wonderland. There they remain latent. Sometimes for mere moments, sometimes days, sometimes months and years. And then in a flash. They come back without warning, at times stealthily, in our most unguarded moments- in bed, polishing shoes, rolling out a roti, driving or pooping and you are not prepared. They settle tentatively on your sleepy eyes for a second and before you know it, fly past you in a flash again, good for you if you hold them then and there, for if you think you will sit yourself down one day with the wrong end of the pen in your mouth, or the laptop loaded with the works, or the dream paints on the palette, to capture what you saw in your mind’s stratosphere- you just blink and find it’s just a blankness you see, no matter how hard you try, a blankness that stares with a baffling obduracy. At times you even forget that you forgot. The thought had yet not entered your conscious mind- it was just hovering between the sleeping world and the awake, and just falls off the edge. Never makes it. Yes they are flighty things.â€� She rounded it with a peal of laughter, amused with the little story she had concocted.”
― Sakoon Singh, In The Land of The Lovers

“Two kingfishers frolicking amidst branches of a small fig tree. Fleshy petals with streaks of pale yellow hiding a spread of fine black dots, embroidered in gradient with dark shades of saffron gradually giving way to yellow. Two birds alighting from the flower bush: one with its spindly beak , looking upwards- wings spread out, over sized head with a gay blue breast. The creature looked skywards, poised for a higher flight. The one below hovered over stalks of lilies. Its prussian blue head highlighted with lighter shades of blue and its orange body tapering in a stubby tail. One more fig blossom seemingly at a distance from the main frame looked more of a spectral double of its full bodied cousin, while a whole array of vegetation with stalky leaves seen two notches away as shadows embroidered in grey.”
― Sakoon Singh, In The Land of The Lovers

“Images of white, semi clad women in colour would be very conspicuous in an otherwise unintelligible newspaper to Nanaki. It was somewhat incongruous to see little pictures, sourced from foreign news agencies, of white women in bikinis, sun tanning on a beach in Zakynthos or a procession of revellers in Sao Paulo complete with exotic costume regalia: trailing pheasant feathers for tails, operatic masks tantalisingly revealing pouty red lips, breasts protruding out of sequinned two pieces, women’s toned derrieres jutting out of glitzy g-strings vibrating animalistically to the samba, shapely legs fitting snugly into gold stilettos. Others showed women walking down the ramp in skimpy lingerie at a Missoni fashion show in Milan. At times these sights would intrigue Nanaki. For her, Urdu was unintelligible, just black marks on paper. Who reads this newspaper? And who are these pictures for? Whose reality is this?”
― Sakoon Singh, In The Land of The Lovers

“How easily women become the first casualty of every conflict, large or small. Rape and gendered segregation are common weapons of war and ethnic cleansing.”
― Sanam Sutirath Wazir, The Kaurs of 1984: The Untold, Unheard Stories of Sikh Women

“Successive governments have advised us to forget the past and focus on the future. Put yourself in our shoes for a second. Is it possible to erase the bloody past?”
― Sanam Sutirath Wazir, The Kaurs of 1984: The Untold, Unheard Stories of Sikh Women

“I thought all of this will end soon and everything will be normal shortly. But its been thirty years. I'm still waiting for things to get back to normal.”
― Sanam Sutirath Wazir, The Kaurs of 1984: The Untold, Unheard Stories of Sikh Women

“In this unending chaos, and with the passage of time since then, the voices of the Kaurs who lived through unimaginable horror and trauma have been silenced. And once I became aware of this silence, I wanted to undo it. I wanted to ensure that the voices of these survivors were heard and their stories remembered.”
― Sanam Sutirath Wazir, The Kaurs of 1984: The Untold, Unheard Stories of Sikh Women

“Most of these women were not educated; many had never stepped out of their homes. They responded to the continuum of patriarchy as they had been conditioned to do so - providing thumb impressions to false statements, and in the case of rape survivors, staying silent because they were commanded to to so.”
― Sanam Sutirath Wazir, The Kaurs of 1984: The Untold, Unheard Stories of Sikh Women

“Without a male guardian in their lives, and with their mother gone from the house for long hours every day, the children turned wayward and, eventually, dropped out of school.”
― Sanam Sutirath Wazir, The Kaurs of 1984: The Untold, Unheard Stories of Sikh Women

“A regular exposure to hurt, humiliation, and social isolation made them sink into a world of their own. Depressed and alone, they began having trouble eating and sleeping as they grew older.”
― Sanam Sutirath Wazir, The Kaurs of 1984: The Untold, Unheard Stories of Sikh Women