Mum, I don’t like battle: This was the title of a portray my one of many cherished artists of town, Raj Kumar when he witnessed the bombing within the metropolis of Dinanagar close to say Gurdaspur in 1971. This was what got here to the thoughts as one heard sirens hummed hazard, blackouts spelled darkness within the four-day battle that we witnessed between us and our neighbouring nation, which regardless of a tragic and violent Partition of 1947, have yearned for each other and supplied nice hospitality to guests from throughout the borders. Cricket matches have meant crossing the borders to observe the sport we inherited from the British. We’ve yearned for chikan fits from Lahore’s Anarkali Bazar and so they for paparh-varhi from Amritsar. They love the Indian movie songs and we eagerly awake their tv serials. The Kartarpur Hall grew to become a cheerful assembly place for households who had misplaced each other in mayhem of Partition made potential by younger youtubers who introduced collectively misplaced siblings. Peace activists on either side have been holding conferences occasionally bringing youths of the 2 international locations collectively, friendships have been fashioned. Within the west each Indians and Pakistanis befriend each other as they arrive from an analogous tradition and converse the identical language. But when eerie sirens hiss by means of the darkish it appears all previous ties and camaraderie is gone with the wind. What involves the thoughts are strains by late Sohan Singh Misha, our Jalandhar poet who broke out in verse on the give up of arms by Amir Abdula Khan Niyazi within the liberation of Bangladesh: ‘Ajab hai eh dushmani dastan/ ghair nu dasiye te ho jaaye hairan/ terian phaujan ne jad merian Chauhan de agge si hathiar sutte/ Gile wargi gal si kujh rosh vi si/ Tu taan royea hovenga, rona hello si/ Mere kyoon athru si vagge’? (Unusual is that this saga of animosity, if we inform a stranger he will probably be stunned, When your troopers surrendered to my troopers, you have been sad and slightly offended, You wept for a cause however why did I shed tears?’
My mom’s imagined nation
The primary introduction to a rustic known as Pakistan got here to me once I was not but three. We lived in a home in Sector 19 of Chandigarh, an enormous bungalow my father had constructed as a compensation for his Lahore Backyard City home misplaced to Partition. Within the night, she would bathe and gown me after which ship me with the ‘aya’ to go to a white home down the lane within the white authorities homes of what was identified within the 50s because the Barristers’ Colony. Certainly one of them had the inexperienced flag of a rustic she known as Pakistan as a result of there was some form of consulate in it of the Pakistan Embassy for a while. As she noticed us off on the gate, she would say: “Go meet your Sushila masi who lives in Pakistan.” I used to be simply three-plus and thought it was some form of a recreation as a result of I by no means discovered my massi there however on a regular basis I heard of a metropolis known as Rawalpindi to which my mom mentioned she belonged. I used to be undecided if it was true or was she telling me a narrative. It’s because my older siblings appeared a bit sad about transferring from Shimla to Chandigarh simply half-built after our father’s retirement. However I pretended to please her by enjoying the sport each night.
The lady from Rawalpindi
In 1959, once I was all of 4 years, the chance got here to really go to her misplaced metropolis of Rawalpindi which was not simply imagined however actual. It so occurred that the governments of the 2 international locations determined that individuals who had blood family members in both nation may go to each other. My mom obtained her passport with names of two minor youngsters, my brother Salil, simply older to me, and I. There was a lot pleasure to satisfy my uncle, aunt and their lovely daughter. Two different family members joined us from Secundrabad. One was my masi’s brother-in-law and one cousin of my mom, whose mother and father had stayed again in Sialkot.
We simply bypassed Lahore, though my mom had moved there after marrying my father and spent some 10 years there earlier than the pressured migration. Rawalpindi was supposedly superior for her because it was on the foothills within the space generally known as Pothoar, whereas Lahore is within the mainland of Majha simply as Amritsar is. By no means thoughts, Lahore with its Kinnaird School, Punjab College, movie studios, theatres, famed Anarkali Bazar and ill-famed Hira Mandi, this our lady from Rawalpindi remained loyal to her dialect of Pothoari and at all times mentioned, “Simply hear these Lahoris converse, it’s like they’re hurling stones at you.” The sari-wearing middle-class ladies of Lahore put her off. Most of them spent the daytime in only a shirt and petticoat and wrapped round a sari solely when it was time for the boys to return residence from work. She got here from elements the place it needed to be a salwar so extensive that it coated a whole material line. The Pothoarans have been so kitchen-proud, cooking essentially the most scrumptious dish of saag, yogurt (curd), gram flour with simply half a handful of rice thrown in. And who may beat their tandoor-fresh rotis of yeast-risen flour. They’d simply soften within the mouth with white home-made butter.
With so superior a background she queened over the lesser creatures of Lahore who made up her husband’s giant household of brothers and sisters, their youngsters and family members. A dig or two at her for the Pothoari being clean talkers and far too intelligent could be made, however she retained her standing of the trustworthy spouse, very best aunt, fond mom, caring sister-in-law.
Nose to nose with Lahore
It was as late as 2003 that I obtained an opportunity to go to Lahore for a Punjabi convention and I simply beloved town with its lovely structure, meals streets, museums and remnants, the Lawrence Gardens. It charmed me as a lot as Delhi did with a shared historical past of monuments and roots. For a second, I felt my mom had cheated me out of Lahore. Now why do I write all this now? Nicely, it’s good to consider good instances when uncertainty is at hand. Good additionally to consider love when there may be worry of hatred. I borrow the title of painter Raj Kumar’s portray to name out to my mom and say: ‘Mum I don’t like battle, whether or not it’s in your Rawalpindi or my Chandigarh.” I confess when requested the place do I come from, I say my mom was from Rawalpindi, my father from Lahore and I’m from Chandigarh.
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