The personal and the public, the normative and the objective — these dimensions are bound to inform a writer affected by the greatest peacetime forced migration of people in modern history: the partition of India but actually that of the Punjab in 1947. I had the occasion to meet the author, Subhash Chopra, at the July 15, 2013 reception of my book in the House of Commons. He had come along with Professor Amin Mughal and Ayub Ayulia. Chopra was born in Pakpattan, once known as Ajodhan, where Baba Fariduddin Masud Ganjshakar (1188-1280), one of the most famous and earliest Sufis of the Chishtia order, is buried. Baba Farid is often cited as one of the earliest poets who wrote in Punjabi. I need not emphasise that the Chishti Sufis are considered to be the most enlightened when it came to promoting communal amity and goodwill. In the contemporary Punjabi cultural and identity revivalism, Baba Farid is celebrated as the leading light for reviving a humane and pluralist Punjabi identity. Such an approach is certainly sound and justified and is based on evidence that is as true today as it was 900 years ago. Chopra writes: “Thanks to the khadims (servants) of the shrine who were kind enough to bestow dastarband or wrapround robe on a wandering son of the town come home after 57 years (2004) of the country’s partition” (page 93). The author, who is a leading Indian journalist, was in Lahore to attend a meeting of the South Asia Free Media Association (SAFMA) and managed to secure permission to visit his hometown. He made new friends and reunited with some old ones and learnt some others were no more. He went to his old school where he was received very well. The headmaster of his old alma mater, Government High School, ordered the old registers to be brought out, and of course, an entry on Subhash Chopra was there. He got a photocopy as souvenir. The author (Cuckoo) met his childhood friend, Laddi, whose family were artisans who used to make tops and other toys. The embrace that ensued brought out all those pent up emotions and tears. Others he just met after his arrival went out of their way to make his visit truly a homecoming. And as happens, mostly if not completely, in the Pakistani Punjab, the owner of Hotel Mehran, Zafar, would not charge him anything. I am still convinced that Talibanisation can never erase or destroy the true soul, so to say, of the Punjab. The Hindus and Sikhs of East Punjab are no less warm-hearted on a personal level, though hotel owners offering free hospitality to visiting Punjabis from the other side is perhaps less frequent. The book, written in the best traditions of conscientious and responsible journalism, examines the partition process skilfully in a number of chapters, covering the decision to partition India reached at the last moment before withdrawal to its devastating consequences that ensued. Quite simply, there was no proper machinery in place to monitor a peaceful transfer of power with the result that the Punjab bled and millions of people were forced to run for their lives to the other side of the border drawn by the Radcliffe Award. I am glad to say that Chopra’s book is the best confirmation of my own findings in the Punjab Bloodied, Partitioned and Cleansed. We have, of course, used some identical sources but also different ones, which lends greater credibility to the description and evaluation of the partition process through independent research. The question that has often been asked me is the following: what has been the legacy and impact of the partition on India-Pakistan relations? My exhaustive answer is presented in my new book, Pakistan: The Garrison State, Origins, Evolution, Consequences (1947-2011). Chopra attempts his own answer in a number of interesting chapters in the present work under review. The Kashmir dispute, the breakup of Pakistan and the relationship between Bangladesh and India capture the vitiating impact of the partition on subsequent politics in the Indian subcontinent. He courageously mentions that it is not only in Pakistan but also in India that vested interests are hell-bent on sabotaging normalisation of relations between the two countries. The Mumbai terrorist attack of November 26, 2008 is a notorious illustration of that mindset. The Samjohta Express terrorist attack by Hindu extremists underscores that ugly reality. It was, however, good to know that the Indian government has paid Rs 50 million to the 33 Pakistani victims of the bombing of the train. This was in line with the compensation paid to Indian citizens affected by that outrage. Each time the peace process gets underway, vested interests intervene. The author, however, is an optimist and identifies a thriving people-to-people movement, which has continued to grow over time and is always an antidote to the vested interests committed to confrontation and hostility between the two nuclear powers. At the state level too, SAARC exists since 1985 as the framework for building peace and prosperity on the model of the EU. I cannot agree more with Subhash Chopra. I hope his book gets proper attention on both sides of the India-Pakistan border as well as in Bangladesh. The author is a man of peace, goodwill and amity whose idealism derives from his understanding of the events of 1947 as something we must learn to put behind and move on. The reviewer is a visiting professor, LUMS, Pakistan, professor emeritus of Political Science, Stockholm University, and honorary senior fellow, Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore. Latest publications: Winner of the Best Non-Fiction Book award at the Karachi Literature Festival: The Punjab Bloodied, Partitioned and Cleansed, Oxford, 2012; and Pakistan: The Garrison State, Origins, Evolution, Consequences (1947-2011), Oxford, 2013. He can be reached at:billumian@gmail.com