Sam Dalrymple
What inspired you to write Shattered Lands and focus on these five specific partitions i.e. Burma in 1937, the 1947 Partition, the princely states, Arabia, and Bangladesh in 1971—rather than just the well-known 1947 event?
Hello. So, what inspired me to write Shattered Lands and focus on these five specific partitions? It all came about through my work on Project Dastaan—a partition project where we reconnected survivors across borders using virtual reality. Around 2019, we wanted to expand geographically because we had been focused too much on just the Punjab partition witnesses.
I was talking to someone from the Northeast about how partition affected them, and they asked, “Which one?” For someone living, for example, in Tripura, they were first cut off from Burma in 1937, then separated from East Pakistan—or East Bengal in 1947—and later, in 1971, the border changed again with the creation of Bangladesh. Each moment created a rupture. That conversation got me thinking: how many of these ruptures have there been?
Your book covers a vast geographical and temporal scope, from Yemen to Thailand and 1937 to 1971. How did you decide where to draw the boundaries of this ambitious narrative?
I also realized I hadn’t fully considered that Burma was part of the Raj, which led me to try to figure out exactly what the Raj looked like. That’s also how I decided on the boundaries of this ambitious narrative.
I began the book just after the first Indian passports were issued—under the title “Indian Empire Passports”—which were given to people across a vast stretch of Asia: from the western point at Aden to the easternmost point in Burma. I wanted to start there and end in the seventies, when the borders changed for the last time with the creation of Bangladesh. This framework formed the basis of what the book is about.
Growing up as the son of William Dalrymple, a renowned historian of South Asia, how did your personal background influence your approach to this project?
My personal background has also had a huge influence. I grew up around historians and was often taken to forts and historical sites, which made me consider history as a career in a way others might not. Additionally, my college friends—Sparsh Ahuja, and Saadia Gardezi from Oxford got me involved with a partition project. This film and documentary project has been the major influence on my focus in Shattered Lands. Before that, I was really into Sanskrit, Persian, and early medieval studies, and even before that, physics. But everything changed after I started traveling the countryside and interviewing partition families.
You’ve integrated oral histories from the Dastaan Project into Shattered Lands. Can you tell us about a particularly memorable story or interview that shaped the book?
Regarding the integration of oral histories from Project Dastaan into Shattered Lands, one particularly memorable story is that of my co-founder Sparsh’s grandfather. His story became the basis for our VR film, Child of Empire, which debuted at the Sundance Festival. He was a Punjabi Hindu who grew up in what is now modern-day Pakistan. At the time, he was too young to understand the politics unfolding around him.
His family came from a syncretic tradition where the eldest son would be raised in the family’s chosen religion—even though they were Hindu—and they regarded many of the local Muslims as brothers and sisters. One day, rioters from outside the town attacked, and his life was saved by a Muslim family, led by a man named Sher Khan. Sparsh and I later crossed the border, obtained Sparsh’s visa, and tracked down his ancestral home.
The family that had saved his family was still there. It was one of the most emotional experiences we’ve ever had—everyone was crying, sharing tea, and Sparsh even kissed the ground while gathering pebbles to bring back home for his family.
Your fluency in languages like Sanskrit, Persian, Hindi, Urdu, and others allowed you to access untranslated memoirs. How did these sources change your understanding of the partitions compared to more commonly available English-language records?
In terms of languages, although I studied Sanskrit and Persian at university, those skills didn’t really help with the partition work. However, being able to conduct interviews in local languages certainly did.
Many of the best untranslated memoirs came from languages I didn’t speak. For example, there’s a Punjabi diary—translated with the help of my friend Harleen Singh —that tells the story of a Sikh mining family and a man named Uttam Singh, whose family escaped Burma during the war. That extraordinary account spans three or four pages in the book.
Traveling across South Asia to gather firsthand accounts must have been a logistical challenge. What was the most difficult part of this research process, and how did you overcome it?
Traveling across South Asia was a logistical challenge, made even more difficult by COVID. Despite that, fieldwork in South Asia is wonderful because everyone is so willing to help.
Even though I had imagined that asking questions about the division of India and Pakistan might be controversial—especially during our joint India-Pakistan film project—in practice, museums and people from both countries were eager to assist. Of course, we couldn’t go near certain border areas, but overall, it went surprisingly well.
You connect these historical partitions to modern conflicts like the Rohingya crisis, Kashmir insurgency, and the rise of the Taliban. Which of these contemporary links surprised you the most during your research?
When discussing contemporary links, I see connections with both the Rohingya crisis and the Kashmir insurgency. The link with the Rohingya crisis surprised me the most—the partition of Burma forms the bedrock of much of what’s gone wrong with the Rohingya situation in Myanmar.
The book highlights lesser-known regions like Chittagong and the North East, beyond the Punjab-centric Partition narratives. What drew you to these peripheral stories, and what did they reveal about the broader impact of these events. One intriguing aspect of Shattered Lands is the inclusion of princely states like Dubai and Oman as part of the British Indian Empire’s fragmentation. What’s a surprising detail you uncovered about these lesser-known divisions?
I was drawn to these peripheral stories largely because of that conversation with someone from the Northeast—someone from the Tripuri community, though I can’t recall his name—who pointed out that the Northeast had experienced multiple partitions.
The inclusion of princely states, like those in Oman, also intrigued me. One fascinating, lesser-known detail I uncovered was that there was a vassal state of Hyderabad in modern-day Yemen called the ‘Qu’aiti State’. It was ruled by a Hyderabadi sultan whose family controlled a section of eastern Yemen.
The summer palace was in Hyderabadi, and links with Hyderabad were maintained right up until the late sixties; in 1961, their military was still marching in old Hyderabad state uniforms. There are many remnants of the Indian Empire across the Gulf—for instance, a Hindu Sheikh in Oman from the Khimjis family, who are the sheikhs of the Bunya tribe, which is a remnant of Gujarati presence in the region.
As a historian and filmmaker raised in Delhi with Scottish roots, how did your dual perspective shape the way you interpreted these partitions and their human cost?
Regarding how my Scottish roots helped me interpret the partitions, there’s certainly a colonial legacy at play. My family background influenced my perspective significantly. My grandfather, for example, was an 18-year-old soldier recruited during World War II and was sent to serve during partition.
For 30–40 years that my parents lived in India, my grandfather never wanted to visit us because he was too traumatized by what he witnessed—a fact we only learned about the day before his funeral. That personal legacy, coupled with growing up in Delhi—a city filled with partition families—has profoundly shaped my understanding of history. In Delhi, nearly every restaurant, every neighborhood in Old Delhi, is inhabited by partition families, and the city itself is shaped by that legacy.
Writing a book that spans five partitions and decades of history must have been daunting. What was the biggest personal or intellectual hurdle you faced while working on Shattered Lands?
As for the biggest personal or intellectual hurdle while working on Shattered Lands, I experienced severe writer’s block. There were months when I felt I was only writing rubbish, and then suddenly there would be months of utter genius. I was quite lucky to have these common struggles—COVID affected the process hugely.
Given today’s date, March 23, 2025, how do you see Shattered Lands speaking to current issues like the NRC debate in India or ongoing tensions in Kashmir and Baluchistan?
Finally, how does Shattered Lands speak to current debates in the NRC, Kashmir, and related issues? I believe it informs them by providing a fuller perspective on the origins of these conflicts.
Although my book spans from the 1930s to the 1970s, many of today’s tensions in Kashmir, citizenship debates in India, and even issues stemming from the Assam agitation of the eighties are rooted in events I describe in the book. I go into considerable detail on these topics, so I believe anyone interested in modern South Asia will find it fascinating.
In conclusion, I hope that Shattered Lands bridges the past and present for its readers. The ideal reader is anyone interested in modern South Asia—I’ve aimed to write it in a narrative style that anyone can pick up and appreciate.
How does your approach—blending oral histories with archival research—differ from or build on traditional historical accounts of the Partition, including those by your father, William Dalrymple?
I am not quite sure. Everyone’s approach to story is different. I’m not quite sure how to answer that exactly… I mean, everyone’s oral histories and archival research are different, right? So, I think it’s more about the particular stories that I chose to tell — stories that are, hopefully, different and surprising in their own way.
You’ve worked in film, animation, and now historical writing. Did your experience as a filmmaker influence how you structured or narrated Shattered Lands?
My experience as a filmmaker definitely influenced the book — mainly because many of the interviews came from that background. Being in documentary filmmaking taught me a particular style of asking questions and conducting interviews. That approach really carried over into the way I worked on the book.
After tackling such a sweeping history, what’s next for you? Are there other untold stories or regions you’re eager to explore in your future projects?
As for what’s next? I’m not entirely sure. There are a few ideas bubbling up, but nothing I’ve fixated on completely just yet. For now, I’m just enjoying the journey of the book, and I’ll be focusing more on writing articles for my Substack and Architectural Digest.
