Student researcher Deepika Rani discovers surprising findings on the experiences of women during Partition, which challenge mainstream narratives. She also makes intriguing comparisons to her own journey as an immigrant South Asian women who left home at a young age. Recently, she connected with Fahad Nahvi, our Digital Public Histories Curator, to answer some questions about her research journey. Aside from accessing The 1947 Partition Archive, Deepika is currently working as a Digital Oral History Archivist at The 1947 Partition Archive, as part of an internships program funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities.
Q. Could you tell us a bit about your background and your academic journey?
My journey began as a young child, when my family and I moved to the United States when I was just four years old. Settling in the Bay Area, I found myself immersed in the warmth of a vibrant South Asian community—one that allowed me to feel connected to my roots even as I adapted to life in a new land. Growing up as a first-generation Punjabi-American, I often straddled two worlds: one deeply rooted in the cultural traditions of India, and the other shaped by the diverse, dynamic fabric of American society.
Though I was raised in the U.S., my upbringing has always been a fusion of both cultures. Now, as a student at the University of California, Irvine, pursuing a major in International and Global Studies, I find myself further exploring the intersections of culture, identity, and global interconnectivity. My academic journey is deeply informed by my personal experiences as an immigrant, as I strive to understand the ways in which the world is shaped by both local and global forces. I am drawn to the stories of migration, displacement, and belonging, and through my studies, I hope to build bridges across cultures and communities, just as I have done in my own life.
Q. How has your personal background influenced your research interests? / What motivated you to explore the personal voices and experiences of Partition?
As a young female of Punjabi descent, I grew up with an understanding of Partition. My maternal grandfather, an ardent storyteller, often shared vivid memories of his childhood during the Batwara. His narratives and my exposure to Hindi cinema left a lasting impression on me, offering a visceral, albeit second-hand, connection to the events of the Partition.
But as I grapple with my own place in this narrative, I couldn’t help but recognize that I stand on the outskirts, an outsider to the experiences of Partition. As a third generation descendant, I grew up hearing about Partition from family stories, but my grandparents personally did not have much of a migration history. This could be owing to the fact that my family was already settled in what is now Indian Punjab, which eliminated the need for migration. Or perhaps our Dalit (scheduled “lower” caste) background may have contributed to an obscured idea of “home,” one that was fluid and often undefined. This inherent lack of belonging could have been intensified in an event so rigidly defined by religious identity – an identity that we could never fully embrace.
Yet, within this narrative of displacement and division, one aspect deeply intrigued me: the voices of women. The impact of Partition on women was not just a matter of migration or border shifts—it was a profound reshaping of identity, security, and survival. As I thought about the women in my own family and their quiet resilience, I began to wonder: How did women navigate this monumental rupture, and what did it mean for them to be part of a story so dominated by men, politics, and religious ideologies?
The often overlooked resilience and agency of these women, sparked my interest in examining their experiences as a vital part of the larger narrative, one that has too often been shaped by political and patriarchal forces. Through my research, I hoped to shed light on their stories and better understand the intersection of gender, identity, and history in shaping the legacy of Partition.
Q. What are some of the most significant findings from your research?
One of the most striking findings was the “type” of women who were targeted for abduction. The idea of the “ideal abductee” was often rooted in a specific image—conventionally attractive, fair-skinned women with “billi akhein” (colored eyes). As I sifted through records, many descriptions of abducted women focused on their physical appearance, and this raised a critical question: Who was truly seen as desirable? It became clear that colonial
beauty standards, especially the idealization of fair skin, played a significant role in shaping these preferences. The women who were targeted were not just chosen for the purpose of religious or cultural dominance but often because they embodied a particular aesthetic. In some cases, women sought to protect themselves by camouflaging their appearance, covering their skin with mud or trying to make themselves look “poorer” to avoid being targeted. The association of being “dark” and “ugly” with invisibility echoes the experiences faced by lower-caste women. Lower-caste women were never the national standard, while in this moment their presence may serve to their advantage, it nevertheless reveals the painful truth that someone who physically resembles the stereotypical image of the lower-caste woman “dark-skinned” and “ugly” would never be accepted into the familial fold. They would not be considered the ideal woman to carry forward the new post-colonial nation’s bloodline.
Another surprising finding was the myth surrounding the “higher” instances of rejection of abducted women by Hindu families due to purity conventions. While it is widely believed that Hindu families were less likely to accept women who had been abducted, my research revealed that Muslim women equally faced rejection. The idea that Hindu families were stricter about the “purity” of women is not entirely accurate. In fact, the structure of the Muslim family at the time, which often included multiple wives and cousin marriages, may have contributed to the popularity of this myth. Many Muslim women were already betrothed to cousins or were considered part of the extended family, which made their acceptance less problematic. The concern over “taint” was less pronounced in this context. Nonetheless, there were still numerous instances where women, from both communities, were rejected by their families. This finding challenged the simplistic view of inter-religious acceptance or rejection based on religious purity alone.
Another significant and somewhat surprising discovery was that abduction was not always a violent or traumatic process. While many women certainly suffered unimaginable violence, not all women’s experiences were defined by trauma. Some women adapted to their new lives with their abductors and were gradually introduced to their new “identities.” For example, one story detailed a young girl who was taught the Quran and the principles of Islam before being married to the younger brother of her abductor. This process of conversion and assimilation was far more complex and nuanced than the conventional image of forced marriages and religious conversion.
Finally, one of the most heartening findings was the solidarity and support that women showed for one another. A powerful network of women helped each other through the trauma and challenges of Partition. In one interview, a woman shared how her family had set up a refugee camp where they trained women in martial arts and self-defense techniques like using chili powder to protect themselves from abductors. Women also found healing in each other’s company. They would gather in private spaces to share their stories and provide emotional support. Many women from different faiths formed alliances, alerting one another about impending attacks to ensure each other’s safety. This network of sisterhood and mutual support was a remarkable aspect of women’s resilience during Partition.
Q. Were there any findings that particularly surprised or challenged your initial assumptions?
I was particularly surprised by the stories of women who were not simply victims of Partition but were actively resisting and, in some cases, even taking on roles as perpetrators of violence.
Of course, I do not mean to dismiss the horrifying violence women endured during Partition, as thousands were abducted, raped, and forcibly married to members of the opposite religion. Yet, I was deeply intrigued by the stories of women who fought back against their abductors, refusing to passively accept their fate. One such story that stayed with me was that of a pregnant woman who managed to escape her abductor after being passed around to different men 7 times! While traveling, she convinced the driver to stop at a convenience store, claiming that she needed to purchase feminine products. She asked him to park a little further away, and once he did, she seized the opportunity to escape. She fled to a bakery in Jhelum owned by her husband, where employees helped arrange for her safe return to India. Her husband welcomed her back with open arms.
Another remarkable narrative involved two women on horseback who took a bold stand against violence. These women hurled a bomb at a Balochi police chief who was threatening to massacre a crowd of refugees attempting to escape the violence. Their actions were not only an act of resistance but also a statement against the passivity often attributed to women in such extreme circumstances.
These stories challenged the monolithic and often defeatist narratives of women during Partition, offering a more nuanced understanding of female agency and resistance. They reminded me that, even in the face of unimaginable suffering, women found ways to assert their power and defy the forces that sought to strip them of their autonomy.
Q. How has delving into the Partition’s history, if at all, affected your sense of identity or connection to your heritage?
Delving into the history of Partition has profoundly deepened my understanding of both my heritage and my sense of identity. Growing up as a Punjabi-American, I was always aware of Partition’s significance, but my connection to it felt distant, often filtered through family stories and cultural narratives that, while rich in emotion, were not always grounded in the broader historical context. The personal stories of migration, violence, and survival that I encountered through my research, however, have given me a more nuanced and layered understanding of what that event truly meant for my ancestors—and by extension, for my identity today.
In many ways, the experiences of my forebears during Partition have shaped who I am today, even if I didn’t always understand the depth of that influence. The stories of women resisting abduction or finding solidarity amidst chaos resonated deeply with me, particularly as a woman of Punjabi descent. I began to see how the resilience, resourcefulness, and courage of women in my own family may have been rooted in these very traditions of survival and resistance.
Q. Is there anything else you would like to share about your research experience?
This research experience has been both humbling and enlightening. Living in a time and place where personal autonomy and individual identity are deeply valued, I am acutely aware of the privilege I have to question social conventions that would have been unquestionable in other contexts. In my own life, the ability to reject communal expectations and prioritize personal freedom allows me to challenge ingrained ideas about gender, honor, and identity—ideas that, in many societies, would have defined and constrained the lives of women. The concept that “honor” could matter more than the material or emotional well-being of a living being feels particularly jarring to me.
However, this privilege also brings with it the risk of projecting my modern, present-day notions of empowerment and autonomy onto the past. As I navigated through my research, I became more aware of my own biases, understanding that the ways women resisted, asserted power, and found agency in the past might look very different from the forms of resistance I recognize today.
I would also like to take this opportunity to express my deep gratitude to Guneeta Singh Bhalla and the entire team at the Partition Archive. Their guidance, expertise, and unwavering support have been instrumental in making this research possible. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to learn from their work and to contribute to the preservation of these vital stories.
