[soft, dramatic music]
♪ ♪
[dramatic music swells]
♪ ♪
[galloping sounds in background]
[clack]
[laughs]
Ah!
[cheers and applause] MARGARET: Bravo!
Well played, Gian!
G and T?
Walter Hankins, as I live and breathe!
Thank you. What brings you to these parts?
Surely not covering amateur polo these days.
Well, I was rather hoping I might find you here.
[audience cheers]
How's your father?
As far as I know,
still attempting to crush the independence movement.
- How's yours? - As far as I know,
still rotting in his damp British mausoleum.
[Margaret laughs]
- You are a wicked girl. - Mm.
I'm surprised they keep you on at the Ministry.
[sighs] Daddy's legacy.
At least when he left me behind, he did me the service
of ensuring I'd never be out of a job.
[horses galloping, snuffling]
Scorching weather for a game.
[grunts]
Yeah!
[background chatter]
[indistinct chatter]
MARGARET: Brilliant!
- Did you enjoy it? - Yes!
Well done.
GIAN: Thank you. ANDREW: Bad luck.
PLAYER: We'll get you next time.
Ah, well, you'll need a faster horse.
[Margaret giggles]
Sir!
Do you mind, Mags?
Your regiment is required to report.
Immediately.
[Andrew exhales]
I suppose that's it then.
Imagine my baby brother leading you into battle.
- [chuckles] - Daddy's legacy.
WALTER: Lieutenant Stilwell,
this calls for drinks all around.
ANDREW: I think I'll join you boys in an iced tea.
See? Therein lies the reason I could never make it as a Sikh.
No G and T, and not enough hair to hold up a hat.
[chuckling] Wait, wait, wasn't it last month
you were complaining you could never make it as a Buddhist?
[upbeat marching band music]
[indistinct conversations]
[whistle blows]
Memsahib.
Oh, yes. Yes, of course.
It's time to go.
Okay.
MARGARET: [small laugh] Oh, wait!
- I want to take a photograph. - We have to go.
- Just one, please. - All right.
Oh, no, come on, come on. Let's all be in this together.
MARGARET: Come together.
Look in the camera.
Okay.
Oh, it's stuck!
We have to go.
Perhaps I can be of assistance?
Walter.
[marching band continues in background]
[camera lens clicks]
[train whistle blows]
[sweeping instrumentals]
♪ ♪
[train whistle blows]
[engine chugging]
[whistle blowing]
[train brakes squeaking]
[indistinct chatter]
[soft music]
♪ ♪
[clock ticking]
MARGARET: Walter did a nice piece about him for the "Times."
[ticking]
There was one final thing
your brother said to me before he died,Memsaab.
Talked to the end. That sounds like him.
He said you should go home...
back to England where you belong.
Belong?
Good lord, do I belong there now?
My father went back to England after Mother died.
If I didn't belong there then, why now?
I should go.
You're out after curfew.
You'll have to keep off the main streets.
Things are changing here, Memsaab.
Will you stay on? In the army, I mean.
No,Memsaab. I'm going back to Sirsa.
Ah.
Of course. Your village in Punjab.
That's where you belong, isn't it, Gian?
Goodbye,Memsaab.
[moody music]
MARGARET: Oh, Andrew.
Don't lose it.
My mother gave this to me when I was five.
- Was I five, Mags? - [chuckles] I think so.
It seems I was prone to wandering off,
but you were supposed to mind me.
I could never find you. Hence, the whistle.
- Well, thank you. - He's going to be trouble.
I can promise you that.
Why they made him an officer is beyond me.
English blood.
Just enough to put me in charge of my betters.
Don't worry,Memsahib. Nothing will happen to him.
Avtar and I will be watching.
[tone over P.A.]
[Margaret sobbing]
[somber, sweeping music]
♪ ♪
[goats bleating]
[bird squawks]
Not far.
Not far to go now.
Abu,why don't you take some rest for a while?
Have some water, sit down.
Please sit down.
All right.
Please,Abu.
[cowbell jingling]
[clicking tongue]
[baby fussing in background]
[gasps]
[people yelling, screaming]
[distant screaming]
[man yelling] Aah!
[Indistinct chatter]
MUMTAZ: Oh--oh! BOY: Mommy!
[Indistinct chatter]
MUMTAZ: Naseem!
Naseem, run!
[Indistinct chatter]
Akbar! Akbar, my son!
No!
[gasping]
[somber music]
[man yelling indistinctly]
[heavy music]
[woman humming]
[man yelling]
[continues yelling]
[woman singing]
[Indistinct chatter]
[ox grunts]
[bird squawking]
[humming]
[baby crying]
[dark music]
♪ ♪
[dog barking distantly]
GIAN: Avtar?
You're up early this morning.
Yeah, we must talk.
GIAN: So talk.
I watched you yesterday,
busy with your farmer's work while the others did your share.
My share? Of what, Avtar, killing innocent people?
They got what they deserved. There's no compromise for me.
You disappoint me, old friend.
I don't think you are in a position to judge me.
I have work to do.
You didn't hesitate in Burma.
The war is over.
The war...is never over.
That was made for a solider.
[chatter, laughter]
[Indistinct chatter]
[gasps]
[hyperventilating]
Please.
Take it.
It's cool out this morning.
- Please-- [woman whimpering]
- Please... - [gasping, panting]
I'm not going to hurt you.
[woman gasping]
[low chatter]
Enough.
You can't stay here. [men chatter, laugh]
You must come with me.
[soft sobbing]
MAN: Gian.
[cattle lowing]
[cowbell jingling]
In the army...
You were told that warm feet and a full belly
were all a man could expect.
But when I am the chef...
Starvation is a guest at the table.
You should eat.
[heavy music]
♪ ♪
[indistinct chatter]
Gian.
[crunching nuts] It's only noon.
You decided not to sleep in today.
- [chuckling] - I've given you all morning
to repair your goods.
Last week, your rice...
I know, I know. Chathri put stones in my rice again.
Buy from someone else.
If it were that easy...
You know about the recent killings?
A third of red lentils and two-thirds of split peas.
[lentils rattling]
It was bloody.
Very close to the village.
I hear many Muslims died.
Festival of Holy is...
not for weeks.
- What are you celebrating? - 40 yards, please.
[chuckling]
This color is not for someone your age, Gian.
You're constantly surprising me.
[horses neighing, galloping]
Come. You must see.
A train just arrived from Pakistan.
[birds squawking]
[flies buzzing]
[heavy music swells]
We need more men...
men who are soldiers, Gian.
Come and join us.
I cannot, Avtar.
Mother.
Where have you been?
- How long have you been here? - I've been looking for you.
Rani's son was on the train.
The whole family...
all of them together.
And now...dead.
[sobbing]
Poor Rani.
These Muslims...
how can they murder innocent people?
They are butchers!
I hate them.
Oh, but...
I am so glad you are not involved.
Go to Rani. Do what you can for her.
She's your closest friend.
[thumping]
[gasping]
We have to find a better place to keep you.
[gasping]
I'll get some water.
NASEEM: That was your mother?
GIAN: Yes.
[sobbing] I would like to see my mother...
my family.
[quiet music]
♪ ♪
[ambient background noise]
REPORTER: In the past 24 hours,
looting and rioting have taken a turn for the worse.
Thousands of innocent refugees
on both sides of the narrow border in the state of Punjab
have been slaughtered.
The cities of Lahore and Amritsar are burning.
There seems to be no semblance of law or order,
and the newly formed government in New Delhi
is unable to offer any immediate help
to bring the bloodshed to an end.
Gandhi had nothing to say to reporters
on the day India received her independence,
the same independence he has devoted his life to win.
The two nations into which India is divided
remain dominions inside the British...
[camel grunts]
[tense music]
♪ ♪
GIAN: Refugees must have changed their path to the border.
I'm sorry.
NASEEM: I'm not going back.
GIAN: It will be light very soon.
We must return.
NASEEM: I'm not going back.
You have been good to me.
- Where are you going? - Pakistan.
It's the other way.
NASEEM: Thank you.
GIAN: Please.
GIAN: What is your name?
- Naseem. - I am Gian.
NASEEM: I know.
GIAN: Tomorrow, we can try again.
[soft music]
If I'm not seen in my fields, people will ask questions.
And please...put the fire out after I leave.
[door opens, closes]
[Indistinct chatter]
[commotion, chatter]
[Indistinct chatter]
ARJUNA: Open the door.
[Indistinct chatter]
Open the door. We know you're inside.
Break the door down!
Where's the Muslim woman?
She's a young girl.
She's not responsible for anyone's death.
ARJUNA: How can you harbor one of them
after all they have done to our people?
She hasn't done anything.
RANI: I'll tell you who has not done anything.
My son, his wife,
his children, my grandchildren!
Murdered by bloody Muslims.
How dare you hide one of them among us!
You know what they did to our children on the train?
She contaminates our village!
Bring her out.
You will not touch her.
I want her out now.
If you step into my house,
one of us will die.
[tense music]
♪ ♪
Then you bring her out.
Someone must pay!
[wood creaking]
Don't let them take me.
Kill me now.
[dramatic chords]
You were a soldier, Gian. You won't let me suffer.
Please, Gian, you are a kind man.
It will be easier for me.
It will be easier for me, please.
Kill me now... please. - Wait.
There is still hope.
Please, trust me.
This is all I have.
I hope it will be of some help.
To those people
who have to leave everything behind in Pakistan.
More than 500 rupees, my friends.
Maybe more.
Let this be an inspiration to all of us.
What good is any of this?
How will you live with the blood of my family in your hands?
May Lord Vishnu smile on our people.
May hell be on this house!
[spits]
RAM: This should help.
Whatever we can to settle our people.
[low chatter]
Thank you. Thank you.
[murmuring indistinctly]
Thank you.
You're a fool, Gian.
Why this Muslim girl?
Why?
And you are still hanging on to this?
Let go of your old memories, Gian.
The boy's dead.
[coins clinking in background]
You lose yourself.
Please, mother.
Please.
[humming softly]
[chanting]
[light clinking]
[automatic gunfire]
[gasping, whimpering]
[booming explosions, gunfire]
GIAN: Sir!
Sir!
[whimpering]
[bullets ricocheting]
Aah!
[whimpering, yelling]
You could have been killed today.
I was a soldier for a very long time.
You gave them a lot of money.
You should sleep.
[light, airy music]
♪ ♪
I see you still your bicycle, Miss Stilwell.
Gian!
What in the world are you doing here?
You all right?
I've been so worried with all the fighting and killings.
I hope you like fresh paneer.
How lovely. [light laugh]
As long as I am not the cook.
[laughs] Of course. Thank you, Ram.
Come, please.
GIAN: It was a slaughter.
MARGARET: [sighs] Perhaps the family survived.
Where were they going?
To a village near Lahore.
You mentioned they were from Delhi.
There is a chance the local authorities may have a record
of the family's next of kin in Pakistan.
I promise I'll do whatever I can to help.
And I'm not without some influence.
Daddy's legacy, you know.
[small laugh]
But I'm... not optimistic, Gian.
You must know how it is these days.
To track down the family would be a miracle.
Miracles do happen,Memsaab.
Yes, they do.
Indeed, they do.
I should be getting back to catch the last train.
Please. Take these for the child.
I couldn't,Memsaab.
You've been much too generous already.
I insist. But you must promise to come back
and bring me more of your fresh paneer.
And Gian, no morememsaab,please.
Thank you.
You will be hearing from me, I promise.
[light guitar chords]
♪ ♪
[overlapping chatter]
[water splashing]
[rhythmic brushing]
SHANTI: Where's my son?
- He isn't here. - I see that.
He is gone...to New Delhi.
He went to see the English lady.
Gian thinks that perhaps she can help to locate my family.
Good. I'm glad to hear that.
Here's the suit he asked me to make.
My son doesn't want a woman to clean for him.
He doesn't like anyone touching his things.
Bibiji.
Oh, mother.
This looks wonderful.
Thank you so much.
And the house looks so clean.
Thank--
[door closes]
Gian, let me get the water.
No.
As long as you're inside this house, no one will touch you.
Everyone knows I'm here.
They watch your house.
When you are not here, I am alone.
Let them see who their enemy is.
I'll get the water.
RANI: Hey, hey, hey!
How dare you come to our well!
There's no water for you here.
Go and get it from Pakistan!
Leave her alone, Rani.
And take her along with you.
Water belongs to everyone.
Then let her go to her own well, okay?
She draws water for my son's house.
[thump] Ow! Oh...
NASEEM: Here...
Did you hurt yourself?
A little.
Oh.
Thank you.
[light, hopeful music]
♪ ♪
[both laughing]
This is a surprise.
It's a field of mustard, isn't it?
So beautiful.
Do you know what you need?
- What? - A red turban.
Imagine the red against the blue sky
and the yellow flowers.
I haven't got a red turban.
Well, too bad.
I've made something different today.
My mother never taught me how to cook.
She said school work was more important.
And all I ever wanted to do was sketch or paint.
[giggles]
Fortunately, I can just eat about anything.
The army is good for that.
The only thing I can't stomach is--
It's squash and chapatis.
And in this one?
Dessert.
It's made with saffron and almonds and squash.
What was the only thing?
That you couldn't stomach?
Squash.
Now, don't tell me.
Let me guess what we're having for dinner tonight, huh?
[laughs]
[background chatter]
[telephones ringing]
MARGARET: Mr. Sharma.
MR. SHARMA: Ah, Miss Stilwell. Nice to see your lovely face.
- You're looking for me? - I'm still waiting
for a response to my request.
Oh, for goodness sake.
You told me you would take care of this--
the little Muslim girl.
Ah, yes. Yes, yes, I remember the case.
The Muslim child and your Sikh friend.
[typewriter keys clicking]
Mr. Singh was in my brother's regiment, Mr. Sharma.
He is not, as such, my Sikh friend.
And he is, however, entitled to a response
from the Indian government.
Miss Stilwell...
the ministry in charge of the unification of families
have had thousands of enquiries.
I have a close friend who writes for the "Times of India."
Perhaps he'd be interested in writing about
- your lack of interest. - Ah, ah.
Very well, Miss Stilwell. I'll attend to it personally.
Just, uh, send me another copy of the letter.
There.
Good day, Miss Stilwell.
[phones ringing, typewriters clacking]
[upbeat music, overlapping chatter]
[laughter]
RAM: Gian!
Ha ha ha ha ha!
GIAN: [laughs]
[both giggling]
- Give that color to me. - No, I don't think so.
I think so. See, you need one hand free
to lay the color, remember?
- Okay, here. - Uh-oh.
[both exhale]
Ha. This is wonderful.
Nobody staring at me, nobody watching me.
Today, nobody knows who I am.
But I do know. You must go say hello to Rani.
What? No! Don't you dare.
- I do dare. You must. - No, Manjula!
- I insist. - Manjula, please.
Just wait there-- I'm getting her for you, okay?
Rani!
[music continues]
[Naseem grunting, crying out]
[Arjuna laughs]
NASEEM: Aah!
[Naseem crying out, Arjuna laughing]
[Gian grunting, Arjuna choking]
[tense music]
♪ ♪
AVTAR: Gian. That's enough.
Enough.
[softly] Naseem!
[moody music]
Come, come.
Come.
[background chatter]
Nobody will hurt her again.
[murmurs Punjabi word]
[stirring music]
[sobbing echoes]
[cries out]
[gasps]
[sobbing]
[sniffling]
Naseem?
There was so much blood.
No one could get away. [sniffling]
My mother, my family.
It's all right.
You are safe with me.
You should rest.
[emotional orchestration]
[sighs]
[thunder rumbles]
[rain pattering]
[insects chirping]
There is still no word from New Delhi.
You will have to decide.
I don't know what to do.
She cannot stay here forever, Gian.
[indistinct chatter]
[Ram murmurs under breath]
[murmurs to himself]
[knocking on door]
Thanks.
Bye.
A letter.
From New Delhi.
May I?
"Dear Gian,
"I am sorry for not writing to you earlier
"regarding your request.
I am pursuing the matter through the Indian government."
MARGARET: Mr. Sharma, the officer in charge
of the Refugee Relocation branch of the Home Ministry,
has personally assured me
that this will be his top priority.
I assure you, it's just a matter of time,
and I'll have news for you.
NASEEM: "Once again, Gian,
"I can't thank you enough for taking care of my dear Andrew.
Margaret."
[dramatic music]
[booming explosions]
[Andrew whimpering]
[whistle blowing]
- Sir! - Gian!
Sir!
My legs-- I can't feel my legs!
Sir!
I can't feel my legs!
We will get you out! Hold on!
[men groaning, yelling]
AVTAR: Break! GIAN: No!
- Don't let me drown. - I'll get you out!
ANDREW: No, no, no--
I will get you out! [groaning]
Don't let me drown.
Please don't let me drown.
I can't hold it!
GIAN: Look at me! - I'm so scared.
I don't want to drown.
It's my legs, Gian. Please.
- Oh-- ANDREW: Please, Gian.
Please, please.
You promised Maggie you would take care of me.
Please... [crying]
AVTAR: We must leave!
ANDREW: Please... [gasping, groaning]
Oh...
Please...
[crying, gagging]
[Gian sobbing]
Who was Andrew, Gian?
Her brother.
Avtar and I promised to protect him.
[crying softly]
He died.
He was drowning.
I had to shoot him.
[crying] Andrew.
[soft, emotional music]
♪ ♪
[light, airy music]
[priest chanting]
[children laughing]
[child giggling]
I love you, Gian.
[soft, stirring music]
♪ ♪
WALTER: Perhaps if I talked
to some people at the Ministry.
MARGARET: Yes, that would be wonderful.
I'm just so happy you're back.
I haven't been able to make any headway at all.
Well, actually, I'm only here for another couple of weeks.
I have to get my permanent papers.
- For England? - England? No.
No, not England. Lahore, Pakistan.
It's interesting how times have changed...
since, thanks to my ancestors, Lahore's a foreign country now.
Well, we'll be neighbors.
Our department has been selected as translating representatives
for the joint Punjab legislature in Lahore.
I've been asked to attend for a time.
[laughs] I can't imagine why they've asked me.
You must stay at my hotel.
- Hotel? - My family has graciously
left me management of the Hotel Royal.
From journalist to hotelier.
Don't know whether that's a step up or down.
[Margaret chuckles]
Well, the paper is losing a good man.
Your words gave me great comfort after Andrew died.
I would never have imagined Andrew a hero.
Did you ever think of going back to England?
Surely you must have some family there.
Losing Andrew was like losing my connection
to my English side.
I'm afraid I just wouldn't fit.
You would fit in no matter where you were.
[laughs] Yes, like a size 36 in a 38 shoe.
Thank you, Walter.
I'll be at the Ministry tomorrow.
I'll talk to Tapti then.
Until Lahore.
[cow lows]
[knocking]
Yes, um...
I'm looking for a Mr. Singh, Gian Singh.
I was told he lived here.
Ah, yes, Memsaab.
Miss Stilwell!
Gian! [laughs]
It's been some time.
It has.
Please, come in.
Memsaab.
- May I offer Memsaab some tea? - Oh, yes.
That would be lovely.
So this is Sirsa.
Yes.
I'm on my way to Lahore.
I've accepted a position with the joint Punjab legislature.
- I see. - Yes.
It will be a welcome change from New Delhi.
[light laugh]
Trip so far has been very pleasant.
[running footsteps]
What a handsome little boy.
This can't be the child, though.
-Memsaab. - Oh.
Thank you, dear.
Well, to business.
I'm sorry it took so long,
but the ministry in charge of the unification of families
is managed by a pack of idiots.
Walter even got involved.
Walter? How is Walter?
He was a good man.
Still the same.
Uh, where is the girl, the Muslim girl?
I am the girl. I am Naseem.
I have news of your family.
They are very close to Lahore.
I have the address here for you
as well as... [papers rustling]
your travel papers.
[soft music]
Alive?
Is Mommy sad?
No, darling. No, Mommy's happy.
Happy.
- [sobbing] - I love you, Mommy.
Oh, I love you too.
Now all my prayers have been answered.
Thank you,Memsaab.
I will never forget you.
You needn't call meMemsaab. Just Margaret.
GIAN: How do I get papers for Vijay and myself?
MARGARET: That would be very difficult.
You'd have to contact the Pakistani government offices
in New Delhi.
It's not in my area, Gian.
Perhaps you could go to see Mr. Sharma at the Ministry
and tell him I sent you.
It was good to see you again.
It's nice to see you again too.
And doing so well. You have a...
a lovely family.
Tell your wife I'll be keeping rooms
at the Royal Hotel in Lahore
in case she has any difficulty at the border.
Although her papers are all in perfect order.
I checked them myself.
GIAN: First class.
Miss Stilwell...
This belongs to you.
I should not have kept it.
[train horn blows]
Don't forget the Royal Hotel.
I will tell her, Miss Stilwell.
Why won't you call me Margaret?
Goodbye, Margaret.
I'll have to get my sandals fixed.
Buy new ones.
Oh, Gian.
What will I do without you?
Are you taking your saffron dress?
I suppose.
You look beautiful in it.
I want your family to know you've been well cared for.
Can I come with you,Ummi?
No, Vijay.
You have to stay here and look afterPaapaajee.
Can I have a present?
Of course. What would you like?
A horsey.
Okay, Vijay, come here.
Go play.
I wish you were coming with me.
It's only for a short time.
Here are your tickets.
For the journey there, and one for your return home.
One month from today.
Now, don't lose it.
I will write to you as soon as I arrive.
[sweeping instrumentals]
♪ ♪
[indistinct chatter]
Next.
Welcome to Pakistan.
Next.
Did Mama go far away?
No,puttar. She hasn't gone far.
She'll be back soon.
Hmm?
[light music]
♪ ♪
ZAKIR: Are you looking for someone?
[whispering] Naseem?
Akbar! Akbar, come quickly!
Naseem?
Mother and father?
They're inside?
Mother is inside.
And where is Father?
He didn't survive the massacre.
He was killed by the Sikhs.
The day we lost you.
[Naseem sobs]
But today you are returned to us.
Yeah.
I can only stay one month.
I have a family in India.
A son and a husband.
[wooden clunk]
Ummi.
Ummi. Ummi!
MUMTAZ: [sobs] My baby!
[thunder rumbles]
[melancholy music]
RAM: Gian!
[chatter, laughter]
[bicycle bell rings]
[Gian hums, chants under his breath]
[clattering]
[objects fall, clatter]
Vijay! I've told you before to be quiet.
Why don't you listen to me?
[chanting]
Vijay!
Vijay.
Where are you, Vijay?
Vijay!
Puttar!
Vijay, Vijay.
[crying] Mommy should come back now.
- I know,puttar,I know. - She promised me a present.
It's okay.
[container clanks]
Liars!
Both of you, liars!
Naseem, Akbar!
This isn't right. Just calm yourself!
[quietly] Did you know too?
MUMTAZ: We did it for you.
Not a single letter.
"Stay a little longer, Naseem.
"Another week, another month.
Write another letter. They will understand."
They killed our father.
My husband killed no one.
He saved my life.
[Mumtaz whimpering] -Ummi!
What are you doing?
Answer me!
You will not betray us, Naseem!
[heavy music]
♪ ♪
[sobbing]
Ooh!
I know you like this candy!
Yeah? [chuckles]
SHANTI: When you joined the army, I had your father.
Now I have nobody.
Then you must understand how I feel, Mother.
Well, at least don't take Vijay with you.
You're going to drag him all over the place?
He's just a child.
Mother, he needs his mother.
VIJAY: Daddy, see?
- Look what I have. - Oh, come.
RAM: Good luck in New Delhi, Gian.
If there comes a time to judge me, Avtar,
don't be too harsh.
A wise man doesn't judge.
In my experience, there are no wise men.
I know one.
Bye. Guru be with you.
Have a safe journey, Gian.
Find me some clothing samples in Lahore, especially in purple!
Bye!
MR. SHARMA: Impossible. Only Muslims can enter Pakistan.
Now, if you wanted to bring your wife here, you can.
There's still a few Hindu refugees trickling in.
My wife is Muslim.
She'll have to go through the proper channels in Pakistan.
To get her sponsorship papers.
[typewriters clacking in background]
The present situation's still very tense.
Now, if you're a Muslim,
you could just walk across the border.
Happy Diwali, Mr. Singh.
[call to prayer chant over speakers]
[chanting continues]
[man chanting in background]
From now on, your name is Muhammed Hassan.
[stirring music]
♪ ♪
This is not enough.
But I was told in New Delhi nothing more was necessary.
You were misinformed.
We need to see a permit, proper identification.
- This is not enough. - Please.
Let us go through.
It has been a difficult journey for my son.
You will have to go back to New Delhi
and apply for the proper papers from the High Commission.
[low chatter]
[tense music]
♪ ♪
You have to be quiet. You understand?
Stay down.
Stay down!
[low chatter]
[grunting] Go, go, go, go!
[edgy music]
♪ ♪
[dialogue not audible]
[ding]
Good day to you, sir. Uh, what can I do for you?
I'd like a room for my son and myself.
Your name and address, please.
My name...
is Muhammed Hassan.
And your address?
Sirsa.
In Pakistan?
In India.
Ah.
Such a shame.
Thanks to the British, so many of us
have become refugees in our own home.
Perhaps they had no choice.
They had a choice.
Naseem?
Try to understand.
We cannot let you go back to India.
I...
I cannot lose you again.
Don't do this to me.
Mother, I am begging you.
I have a husband and a son of my own now.
Don't keep me here.
The man is a Sikh.
[lock clanking]
I thought I was the one who had a problem
deciding which religion to go with.
GIAN: It's been a long time.
Welcome to Lahore, Gian.
[murmuring in Urdu]
Miss Stilwell?
Yes?
You still have your bicycle, Margaret?
Gian!
[softly] What have you done?
Naseem hasn't returned.
We've had no news.
It's been almost three months.
I'm going to Kasur in the morning.
Does anyone know you're coming?
No.
[softly] Gian.
Do you work tomorrow?
No. The legislature doesn't sit again until next week.
Could I leave Vijay with you?
Gian, you can't go alone.
Things are still very, very bad here.
Could you look after Vijay for me?
[children chattering]
This is not a wise move, Margaret.
[hopeful music]
♪ ♪
[door clatters closed]
[lock clanks]
Let her come out, Akbar.
Let her come and be with us.
Please?
Please.
Yes?
[gasps]
Naseem!
Gian!
- No! - No, Akbar!
- No! Zakir! - Akbar!
NASEEM: No! AKBAR: Zakir!
Please! She's my wife. [Naseem sobbing]
No! Gian!
No! No!
[sobbing]
Oh!
My sister and a Sikh!
How dare you come to our home?
You dare?
[commotion] AKBAR: Murderers!
AKBAR: You kill my father?
Attacked us and slaughtered us like we were nothing?
[thud] [Gian groans]
- Leave him alone! GIAN: [hoarsely] Oh, Margaret.
What's going on?
He's a Sikh!
I am a Muslim.
My name is Mohammed Hassan.
He's a Sikh!
He tried to take our sister.
If it is a crime to be born a Sikh,
then it is a crime to be born a Muslim.
I will not listen to this!
For half my life, I was a soldier.
I fought for India.
For Sikhs...
Muslim...
Hindu, Christian--for everyone.
Don't preach to us--preach to your own people, you murderer!
Yes, I killed men.
Many men.
I came home looking for peace.
I found Partition.
Hate everywhere.
I wanted no part of it.
The day I found Naseem...
I could not leave her there for someone else to harm.
I had to save her.
But it was Naseem who saved me.
[groans]
Your sister...
gave me back my life.
She made me want to live again.
She's everything to me.
My sister belongs here with her own people.
How can she not belong with me, Akbar?
I've been looking for her all my life.
Are you going to release your sister to this man?
Never.
Let's go.
[Gian groans]
Couldn't you just send him back to Lahore, Sergeant?
Miss, it's not possible.
Well, perhaps we might work something out.
I work for the legislature in Lahore.
I imagine a man with a government job
might be happy to make a new friend.
A helpful friend.
Take him to Lahore.
[door thuds closed]
You look well.
How's my little boy?
He has Margaret in the palm of his hand.
I envy you.
You must love Naseem very much.
The authorities will release you
if you return to India with your son.
Not without his mother.
I can't.
For Vijay's sake, Gian, go back to India.
I am not without some influence here in Lahore.
We will take this business up with the courts...
And we will get your wife out of Pakistan eventually.
I cannot...leave without her.
She's my life.
If you want to keep your life,
leave.
[keys jingling]
[metallic clanking]
MUMTAZ: This is not the way it was supposed to be.
Your father and I were from the city.
Our families were moderate in their views.
We were not supposed to be involved in matters like this.
Your father should not have died like he did.
It is a little, but...
it will help you get out of Pakistan.
When he's older...
tell your son that...
you also had a mother who loved you.
Ummi! I love you so much.
MUMTAZ: Shh... -Ummi...
[both sobbing]
MUMTAZ: [whispering] Don't go up the next street.
[emotional Urdu]
Allah!
Allah be with you.
[car horn honks]
[suspenseful music]
♪ ♪
Two, please, to Amritsar.
Paapaajee, Paapaajee!
There, now, don't worry. I'll get you another bag.
It doesn't matter.
Hey.
Wait here.
Huh?
[Indistinct chatter]
[train whistle blowing]
[Indistinct chatter]
- No bikes-- - Please!
- Our sister is in there! - No, no, no, no, no bikes.
Go back. Go.
Vijay!
Mommy!
Did you bring me a present?
Of course. How could I possibly forget?
Here.
Thank you!
Vijay. [laughs]
Naseem!
[train horn]
Please, Margaret.
GIAN: Naseem!
Naseem!
[uplifting, emotional music]
♪ ♪
[tense percussive music]
AKBAR: Naseem!
No, Akbar!
GIAN: Go to Vijay!
Go!
Go to Vijay! Go!
Naseem!
NASEEM: Akbar, please.
[whistle blowing]
Aah!
Ali!
[whistle blows]
N-Naseem!
Mommy!
[toot toot]
Naseem, hurry.
Get on the train.
Hurry.
Get on the train.
[sweeping orchestration]
♪ ♪
NASEEM: Like so many whose lives were torn apart
by the Partition,
Margaret, Vijay, and I came to England.
Walter took Gian home to Sirsa...
where he and Avtar spread his ashes
around the base of the banyan tree in the village.
The banyan's roots go deep within the ground
where they emerge as new trees.
Like the banyan,
Gian's love gave me the strength to start a new life.
He lives on in all that I am...
that we are.
[sweeping orchestration]
[light music]
♪ ♪