Gazing into India, on my occasional visits, standing on the Pakistani side of Wagah border, the only land crossing permitted along the border between India and Pakistan, I have inevitably, with moist eyes, remembered my late father.
Bringing me up like a friend, he died 40 years ago. Sharing his childhood stories with sparkling eyes, he used to recall travelling between Lahore and Amritsar on bicycle and tonga to play volleyball for Lahore. Clasping my little finger, walking in the narrow streets of the walled city of Lahore, where I was born of Kashmiri parents and have my earliest memories, he walked past one house after the other reminiscing fondly about his friends who had gone away. I often wondered in innocence, why did friends have to go away.
As a child passing by burnt house, inside the Shah Alami Gate in Lahore, I often raised the question — why? “These belonged to the people — the Hindus and Sikhs, who have gone away,” my father would answer. Why burn houses, if people living in them have gone, and got no answer. He had none. Wondering why some relatives and Muslim families moved from Amritsar to Lahore when it is only a tonga ride away, I was told they could not continue living there. The long queues outside the rehabilitation offices in Lahore made me slowly grasp that people seeking alternate shelters were indeed refugees — victims of “ethnic cleansing” in the sub-continent, much before the term became part of contemporary English language usage.
Growing up it was common to find people in Lahore going for a day trip to Amritsar to watch a movie. This, I felt as a child, was a semblance of sanity. It was still common to see turbaned sardars in Lahore’s Anarkali Bazar and the Mall during Baisakhi, Guru Nanak’s birthday or other Sikh religious festivals. I was beginning to understand why people who have some of their holiest religious places in Pakistan could not visit them easily.
Looking at the rows of photographs after joining Forman Christian College (FC) was another painful lesson for me. My most revered Prof. Sinclair, who died after teaching at FC for over 50 years, chose to continue teaching there rather than joining his two sons who remained in India during Partition. Why this separation?
On a mission to Beira in 1978, the Mozambique town that became infamous for sanctions busting against Ian Smith’s white minority regime in what was then Rhodesia, I found that the large number of sub-continentals living there spoke either Portuguese or Gujarati. I still feel the sobbing embraces of an old sardar — the only Punjabi-speaking person in Mozambique, who heard that a Punjabi-speaking person (me) was in town and just came to talk to me in his native tongue.
The deeper lesson I learnt is that people who killed each other, marauded villages and bazars were ready to leave bitterness behind and move on. My belief in the eternal goodness of human spirit awoke that day. His parting gift of tea and sweets was a priceless expression of the warmth he felt, asking for nothing except a few moments of conversation in Punjabi with me. He was ahead of his time.
India and Pakistan are now nuclear states. The slightest miscalculation between the two can lead to a disaster of biblical proportions. Their belligerent posturing has put them decades behind in human development. Countries that looked up to the two have galloped ahead.
Simultaneously, barriers are breaking. Art and cultural connections are being reinvigorated. The expression of warmth amongst the common folks on either side is not an act of robotics. Cricket brings out the best amongst sub-continentals. Yet, only a few from a billion plus move across borders. Hopefully, this will grow when natural economic activity between the two is restored.
India and Pakistan celebrated their independence days last week. These joyous moments together were vitiated by shrill sounds of gun fire across the Line of Control in Kashmir. Thankfully, political leadership has shown restraint and has sensibly emphasised the need for dialogue to address mutual concerns. The two Prime Ministers are expected to meet on the sidelines of the United Nations’ General Assembly meeting next month.
Globalisation and interdependence demands that states draw strength from their neighbours, which is the basis for shared prosperity. The search for peace needs patience and positive tenacity. It is time to go back to my late father’s youthful days when ordinary folks enjoyed their festivals together, travelled back and forth, shared their joys and competed on the sports fields, in arts, culture, sciences, economics and a host of other useful pursuits to reach their full potential. After all, when siblings grow they need their separate spaces to live in harmony.
Only when the guns are silent will we hear the muffled sound of dholak from a distance. Looking up the horizon I will see my father and his friends meeting again in embrace... nothing perhaps will give him more comfort in the heavens.
The writer is an adjunct professor at the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy, National University of Singapore, and an associate fellow with the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, Singapore. He served in
the Pakistan Foreign Service from 1973-2008.