Boycotting Pakistan culturally no longer a dilemma Im a child of partition and for the last 62 years have been pretty ambivalent about Pakistan. My late parents, who were from Hyderabad (Sindh) and moved to Karachi for education and employment migrated to Bombay (as Mumbai was then called) after partition in 1947. My father, in fact traveled on the last ship from Karachi to Bombay, clad only in a white shirt and white trouser (this is documented in a new book on Sindhi exiles). I was born in Bombay in 1952 and have lived in Delhi most of my life. Thus, I am neither here nor there in the sense that I am neither a Bombaiya nor a Delhite. Nine out of 10 acquaintances have a hometown to go to or a place to go to when the chips are down or if they just want to chill out. Where do I or others like me go to? Thanks to my parents, I have a roof above my head, for which I am grateful to them. But, where do I go if the going gets rough or if I just want to be with myself for a while? Pakistan first came on my radar in 1965, when I was in class 5 and read Khushwant Singhs “Train to Pakistan. Till then, I was blissfully unaware of Partition! Then, there was the India-Pakistan war that year and there was a tremendous upsurge of patriotic feeling but there were no feelings of hate, per se. Then came the events that led to the creation of Bangladesh and the 1971 war with Pakistan. While in college, I accompanied a classmate who was a newsreel cameraman to cover demonstrations outside the Pakistan High Commission against the hijacking of an Indian passenger plane. One faced teargas and police batons but there were no feelings of hate toward Pakistan. Then, when I set out as a full-time journalist in 1973, I gravitated naturally toward defence and matters relating to national security. This, in turn, led to a greater “engagement” with Pakistan and its various aspects. Those were the days when crackers were burst when India lost a hockey match to Pakistan. Still, I maintained my neutrality. In between all this, one was rather amused to read a letter from a relative, an NRI from the US, proudly declaring that and his family had themselves photographed by the governor of Sindh while on a flight to Karachi. Amused because he didnt know the internal dynamics of Pakistan, where the military were enormously hated. This relative left behind a whole lot of photographs of what would have been my huge two-storied ancestral house in Karachi had partition not happened. To an extent it made me nostalgic as it got he wondering where I would have been if India had remained one but this was in the nature of a back file that soon got deleted. It was only in 1988 that I met three Pakistani journalists in the flesh for the first time. It happened quite by accident. I had dropped in at a friends place for a drink when they also landed up. They evinced interest in the Sports Authority of India where I was working at the time and I arranged a meeting with the DG and a tour of the facilities. In turn, one of them presented me a Pathan suit which I have treasured till now. Then came the horrors of the Kargil conflict of personnel of the Indian armed forces being decapitated after being captured. Still, my neutrality stayed intact, as it had throughout the decade from the time Islamist terror broke out in Jammu and Kashmir. There was some irritation when the Indian government would abruptly cancel visas issued to cultural groups and other civil society activists. There was considerable irritation when the Pakistani high commissioner insisted on meeting Kashmiri separatist leaders earlier, a move that led to a meeting of foreign secretaries being called off. While not overtly participating in the people-to-people contacts between the two counties, one heartily supported them. After all, there can never be peace on the sub-continent because of international dynamics and because this would negate the very concept of partition – but why cant the two peoples interact? Thus, it was with a great deal of irritation that one read of Patialas Punjabi University withdrawing an invite to a group of Sufi singers following last weeks serial attacks in Kashmir by Pakistani terrorists Till Sunday (Dec 7), I was raring to attend a performance by the group, coupled with a Pakistani food festival, at New Delhis Foreign Correspondents Club, where I had booked a table for two. Not any more. Why? Because of a photograph of eight-yeaer-old Sara performing the last rites of her father, Lt. Col. Sankalp Kumar who had been martyred in Kasshmir. Enough is enough! I dont want to have anything to do with Pakistanis. Im even getting rid of the Pathan suit. Who am I? I might be in a minority of one, but there are times one has to stand up and be counted.
Posted on: Tue, 09 Dec 2014 11:20:29 +0000
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