My maternal grandmother, Naani Amma, told me about her companion from before the partition. “Peecho meri humraaz thee; phir woh Rohtak mein reh gayee jab hum Pakistan aagayey,” she said. “Peecho was my confidante; then she was left behind in Rohtak when we migrated to Pakistan.” According to my reconstruction, the most of what she is recalling is that it is a half-truth, half-myth, and that she is slowly recounting it in a somber manner while occasionally laughing, as though a fragment of memory that has been forgotten had surfaced from a well covered in moss.
What was the meaning behind the moniker Peecho, and what was her true name? Something was undoubtedly left unsaid in this, as most stories do, and they gradually settle in with our memories and our sleepless nights.What secrets did your confidante and friend Humraaz have? Unlike me, my naani amma did not live in constant longing and yearning. And with measure, she recalled and narrated. She was a meticulous person who shied away from abstractions. When she did engage in them, maybe as a form of rebellion, these experiences came to her in rhymes and stories while she sat with her tambaacoo (tobacco), chhaaliya (betel nut), and silver pandan (a box that holds betel leaf and apparatus).
