"They fled through heat and rain...the dust of the caravans stretched low across the Indian plains and mingled with the scent of fear and sweat, human waste and putrifying bodies. When the cloud of hate subsided, the roll of the dead was called and five hundred thousand names echoed across the dazed land - dead of gunshot wounds, sword, dagger and knife slashes and others of epidemic diseases. While the largest number died of violence, there were tired gentle souls who looked across their plundered gardens and then lay down and died. For what good is life when reason stops and men run wild? Why pluck your baby from the spike or draw your lover from the murky well?"
- Donald F Ebright, "Free India: The First Five Years: An Account of the 1947 Riots, Relief and Rehabilitation"
Seriously, for what good?
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