Manto in his masterpiece, ‘Thanda Gosht’ (meaning “Cold Flesh”), makes us meet a fictional character Ishar Singh, who during the Partition violence and on the other side of Punjab, abducts a Muslim girl and tries to rape her. The girl, already dead, was but ‘cold flesh’. This affects Ishar Singh psychologically so much so that he loses his libido. The story is a glimpse of pain and suffering that the Partition brought to many. The characters find themselves amidst a dilemma, and the choice is difficult – death or migration. Those who prefer lives over land, migrate, and those who opt for land, perish. At about the same time, on this side of the Punjab, in a village of Rawal near Rawalpindi, a real person Ishar Singh finds himself stranded, with violence consuming his surroundings. This Ishar Singh, unlike his fictitious namesake, is on the receiving end of violence. The change in locality marks him as a victim. Rawal is a small village comprising around one hundred households; only forty belonging to Muslims, to families of Gakhars or Kiyanis, Syeds, Bafanda (weavers), Thakyal Rajputs, and Malhiar (Arain). Ishar Singh, a Sikh, is headman (Lamberdar) of the village. Until the 5th day of March, 1947, life is peaceful in and around Rawal village. As the local legend goes on, Rama and Sita paid a visit to Ram Kund in Saidpur village, while Krishna took abode in Rawal village, and the farmers of Rawal village built three ‘Shalwa’ (small temples) in the name of Krishna. Violence erupts. Jathas from the area of Koh-Murree start attacking villages around Rawalpindi, and all of a sudden, Ishar Singh and the other Hindu and Sikh inhabitants of Rawal become strangers in their own village On March 5, 1947, Muslim students take out a procession in Rawalpindi. It is a show of power. On 6 March, 1947, the village of Thoha Khalsa, near Kahuta, is attacked and burnt by a Muslim mob. Violence erupts. Jathas from the area of Koh-Murree start attacking villages around Rawalpindi, and all of a sudden, Ishar Singh and other Hindu and Sikh inhabitants of Rawal become strangers in their own village. The dilemma of Partition was at their doorstep and the choice was difficult – death or migration. They choose migration. With swollen throats and wet eyes, they pack their belongings and set on a journey to an unknown destination, leaving behind the land they had always thought was theirs. The village was left empty and so were the three temples. One of the latter was called Grukul, which was eaten up by Rawal Lake when the Rawal dam was built in the 1960s. The second temple became house to a Kashmiri family. Its arches remained intact until the 1980s, before being devoured by time. The third one, the Krishna Temple, is about to breathe its last. To fill the government files, the Evacuee Trust records its origin as 1883, though no one knows when this temple was originally built. According to these files, the temple was functional in 1935. These files are silent as to when the bell of the temple rang its last – for it is obvious. Haunted by memories of the past, today the lone temple stands isolated and indifferent to the surroundings on the bank of Rawal Lake. Alone, silent, dilapidated, and awaiting nirvana, it braves the vagaries of time. Published in Daily Times, May 3rd 2018.