THIS WILL BE THE BOUNDARY LINE

 
A black dog would visit Baba's bungalow in Lahore and it would be fed daily. Then, a puppy that was injured also began coming to the door. The women nursed its wounds and looked after it lovingly. But one day, the puppy went mad, and Margaret was ordered to catch it, and turn it over to Nilu to be destroyed.

On the morning of October 1st [1943], the black dog too went mad and bit Margaret. Krishna was resting after his night duty, when the gardener came at 7 A. M. and told Krishna that Baba wanted him immediately. Baba was standing with Margaret. The dog was lying nearby. Baba pointed to the dog and ordered, "Take this animal away." It was difficult for Krishna to capture it, as it had already bitten Margaret. Hesitant to get near it and be bitten, Krishna devised a yoke of bamboo. Quietly approaching the dog, he held its neck with the bamboo and tied a rope around it.

Baba order, "Take the dog twenty miles from here."

Krishna replied, "That is not possible, Baba. The dog is rabid — mad."

Baba was adamant. "It is my order," he spelled out.

Krishna expressed his inability to transport the dog so far. Baba looked disappointed, and dictated, "All right, take him eleven miles. And be certain to count the miles carefully." Baba went inside without giving Krishna a chance to protest further.

Krishna got on his bike and, using the rope to pull it and the bamboo to keep it at bay, he led the dog away. It was an arduous task. Using small pebbles, he counted off the miles. It took him five hours to bicycle eleven miles. There was a small pond of water, and Krishna took the dog near the water to give it a final drink before letting it go. As soon as the dog touched its mouth to the water, it died. Krishna was peeved. "If the dog was to die, why not kill it back in Lahore?" he wondered. "Why go to all this trouble of dragging it eleven miles away?"

Leaving the carcass, Krishna returned to the bungalow. It was almost two in the afternoon. Dr. Nilu was waiting to inform him that Baba wanted to see him immediately. Baba was walking on the veranda. "Did you leave the dog?" he asked.

"Yes. It died."

Baba was very happy. "You went eleven miles?" Krishna nodded yes.

Baba smiled, gesturing, "I am very happy. You have done a good job. Go and have lunch."

Krishna stood still. "Baba, what is this?" he asked. "Why did you want me to take that dog eleven miles away?"

Baba gave him a kick and twisted his hair. "Get out!" he motioned. "Go! Get out of my sight!"

Krishna, however, stood outside the gate. Baba asked him what he wanted. "What was the reason, Baba? Tell me. First you told me to go twenty miles, then eleven miles. After I took the dog all that way, it died there. If you wanted him dead, I could have killed him here in five minutes. Why did you make me go to all that trouble? What difference did it make where that dog died? What work were you doing?"

Baba called him back and motioned to him to take a stick and draw a line on the ground. Erasing the line with his foot, Baba indicated to draw another line. "That's correct," he gestured.

Then Baba revealed, "In the future, India will be divided into two countries — India and Pakistan. This will be the boundary line between the two." Krishna recalled Baba's words four years later, at the time of partition, when a dispute arose over the exact boundary line, whether it was to be eleven miles or twenty miles from a certain point.