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Pakistan, Short Essays

Fatima Sughra 1931-2017: A forgotten heroine

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Fatima Sughra
© 2009 Pippa Virdee

Sadly, I came to know that the young forgotten heroine of the independence movement passed away at the weekend. I interviewed Fatima Sughra in 2009 and only came across her by accident. Below is an extract from the amazing interview with her and sadly many Pakistanis are not even aware her or that she quietly lived in Johar Town, Lahore. At the age of 14 she became involved in local processions/protests being organized by the women working for the All-India Muslim League. Inspired by what was going on Fatima joined them and recalls one eventful day:

I was studying in 9th class. Fatima Begum was very active worker of the Muslim League. She worked with Quaid-i-Azam. She established the imposing Jinnah Islamia College on Multan Road, Lahore. Quaid-i-Azam inaugurated this college. There were usually meetings of the Muslim League in her house. She was sister-in-law of one of my aunty. I often visited my auntie’s house and at the time could not understand what was happening…I only thought that the Muslim League is our party, a party of the Muslims.

I was born in 1931; our house was between Mochi Gate and Shah Alam Gate Lahore. I was 14 and half year old that time and studying in 9th class. In those days, there was a disobedient movement against the Khizr Government and the Muslim League leadership made regular protests and processions in the streets. I read Zamindar newspaper and came to know that Begum Shahnawaz, Begum Salma Tassaduq Hussain, Begum Jalandhri and Fatima Begum were arrested in Lahore. I asked for permission from my father to participate in the processions; finally he allowed me. I along with my friends reached the Assembly Hall that day. I saw at that time a big crowd was shouting and chanting slogans: ‘(Zindabad) Long live Muslim League; long live Qauid-i-Azam; Pakistan will be created whatever it cost to the Muslims (bun kay ray ga Pakistan).

I think it was in February or March 1947. Daily processions were arranged and we took processions to the Radio station, at Mall Road, Jail Road, High Court and Civil Secretariat. We took the procession to the inner city. Hindus laughed at us. I remember the day I took off the Union Jack and replaced it with hoisting a [makeshift] Muslim League flag. Many Muslim women, (who had never stepped out from their house before) came out from their houses and took over the street of the city. This was happening all over because the Begums [elite Muslim League Women leadership] went door to door and convinced the Muslim women to come out from their homes for the protests. I do know what sort of passion was inside me at time; I just jumped over the Secretariat Gate.

There was a girl who was very tall…. I think her name was Begum Aslam. I put my foot on her shoulder and reached at the top of the Secretariat building Lahore. I did not know even, I pulled out the doori (thread) and flag…That day Begum Hadiat Ullah was leading the procession she said to me: ‘are you alright? I shouted, yes, I am alright’. The crowds were shouting slogans. I became very emotional and replaced the Union Jack with the Muslim League flag. Afterwards the Police arrived there; some boys escorted me and helped to get down from the stairs. The police sprayed heavy tear gas and used lati charge over the crowd. I rented a tonga and paid 4 anna and reached home safely. At home I told my mother about hoisting of Muslim League flag……she replied: ‘ok, I know you are doing such things every day’. At our house the daily Zamindar used to come every day and there was big news in the next day’s issue: Fatima Fada Hussian took off the Union Jack and hoisted the Muslim League flag. My father kissed me when I was sleeping because of this act. My father was very proud on me and said to me ‘my daughter I’m proud of you, you have done a big task’. That day I did break my fasting and again went to join the street processions.  Begum Sikandar Hayat, Zahida Hayat, Asmat Hayat and Shamim were with me. They had been released from jail. We brought them in the Nasar Bagh in a procession. There was a big gathering and all Begums delivered very stimulating speeches. They called me on the stage and put a har of fruits around my neck. My friend ate most of the fruits and remaining part I showed to mum when I went home. [Laughing]

My father was a well-reputed person in our mohalla and people of the mohalla asked him many things about us. In those days, the people were very good and they cared about other people of mohalla. Now-a-days nobody cared about anything.

I had little interest in politics. I just went to join the processions for enjoyment. I thought that Muslim League represented the Muslims and Quaid-i-Azam was their leader and struggling for the creation a Muslim country. When I hoisted the Muslim League flag in the Secretariat building, many people came to my house to congratulate me and my family.  I became a renowned girl.

I got certificate and gold medal. In 1987, Pakistan Government arranged a similar sort of the 1947 flag hoisting occurrence in the Lahore Secretariat building. I did perform and climbed at the Secretariat building even in this old age.

This was an extract from an interview conducted with Fatima Sughra in her house in Johar Town, 2009.

India, Short Essays

Durga Mandir/Juma Masjid

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In an unassuming side street of an old residential area in Sonipat is a hidden gem and remnant of the past. Durga Mandir of Mohalla Kalan in Sonipat is still popularly known as Badi Masjid (big/greater Mosque). The latter should give an insight into the former life of this Mandir, which once was a Masjid. Even today looking at the exterior of this mandir it could quite easily be confused for a masjid. It stands tall and looks grand in the red stone façade with a courtyard for Friday prayers which probably attracted many of the local Muslims in pre-partitioned Punjab. Apart from the obvious changes of installing flags and idols, the three main domes and minarets are easily identifiable with that of a small Juma masjid.

Like many other places of East Punjab, the Muslims of Sonipat migrated to Pakistan, leaving behind their homes and places of worship. These were quickly claimed by the incoming Hindus and Sikhs. Muslims were often the second largest group in these areas. For example, Muslims were significantly present in cities like Hissar (28%), Gurgaon (34%), Karnal (32%) and Ambala (32%) Rohtak (17%); all of these are part of present-day Haryana State. Most of the Muslims abandoned their homes in the ensuing violence of August 1947 and fled to Pakistan. Similarly, in Pakistan, many of the old abandoned religious (Gurdwaras and mandirs) buildings were converted/neglected by the incoming populations to be utilised for their own purposes. See link below for more about this.

In this case, the masjid has been converted into a Durga Mandir, a temple for worshiping Goddess Durga. It is now known as ‘Sri Sanatan Dharm Sabha Panji Durga Mandir.’ The Goddess Durga assumes the central position in the mandir and is surrounded by other deities; outside in the courtyard is an encased idol of Baba Sai. The dome interior has recently been filled to mask the obvious Islamic style architecture but the exterior remains as before. The link below provides further information on the Badi Masjid but more interesting are the photos. The short article was posted in October 2015, and the pictures shared are quite different from when I went to visit the site recently. The interior now has been changed to hide all signs of its former existence as a masjid. The pictures from 2015 show the perfect domes and remnants of frescoes and tiling from before. The fact that much of the interior has been transformed in the past two years is telling of the Hindutva agenda prevailing in the region.

Sonipat in August 1947 was a small city in united Punjab, then it became a city in East Punjab and eventually a part of Haryana after the reorganisation of East Punjab in 1966. There is little in the history books about the intervening years before it became part of Haryana, yet a lot has changed in this area. Looking at Sonipat today, it is difficult to tell that this historic city was once communally diverse with Punjabi Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims and Christians. Today it feels very much like a Hindu city. Perhaps the latter is more of a reflection of the current climate in India. But hidden away are these old structures that remind us of a different time and a different history.

Read further about Sonepat’s Badi Masjid and see pictures from 2013. http://www.gounesco.com/badi-masjid-sonipat/

Pakistan’s long forgotten Hindu temples and gurdwaras. http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/15785/pakistans-long-forgotten-hindu-temples-and-gurdwaras/

Partition, Short Essays

The Politics of Partition and its Memory

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© 2017 Pippa Virdee
© 2017 Pippa Virdee
© 2017 Pippa Virdee

 

Now that the euphoria over independence day “celebrations” and remembering partition are over, it is worthwhile remembering that it was in fact today, 70 years ago, that the Radcliffe Line was made public. Millions of people woke up on 15 August not knowing which side of border they would be on, today their fate was sealed. Sitting in Delhi on this day, having seen the way both Pakistan and India remember 14/15 August 1947, it is a stark reminder of how chaotic this process must have been.

The month of August in the sub-continent is when the monsoon rains gush down intermittently. The heavy rains leave places incapacitated due to the deluge that falls. Even today, where there is improved drainage, the monsoon rains have the capacity to bring towns and cities to a standstill. So, thinking about this back in August 1947, it is staggering to think that the last Viceroy, Louis Mountbatten, decided that 15 August would be the date for independence. The date was chosen because it coincided with the date when Japan surrendered after it was devastated by the nuclear bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Mountbatten was clearly sentimental about the date because he was Supreme Allied Commander of South-East Asia when Japan surrendered. But he also failed to show any foresight when it came to the sub-continent. All the leaders failed to anticipate that millions of people would be engulfed by violence and thus forced to flee and that too in the difficult month of August. This only added further to their misery and fuelled diseases in refugee camps. It must be kept in mind that the violence that was unleashed in August 1947 was not an isolated incident, it was a culmination and continuation of previous episodes of horrific communal/political violence in which many lost their lives and were displaced. It was thus not entirely unexpected, nor was it just spontaneous.

The British media (TV, Radio and Print) has decided to cover partition/independence extensively and interestingly for this decennial anniversary they have been giving full coverage to the voices of ordinary people. The BBC has had a full season of programmes (one of which I contributed to) devoted to India and Pakistan at 70. I have personally spent the last sixteen years working on partition and its wider impact on the Punjab region, so the ordinary voices are not new to me. In fact, this trend in scholarship has been evolving and growing for the past twenty years. What is sobering is how the coverage has differed in India, Pakistan and the UK. I can only speak about these three because I know them well and they were of course at the epicentre of this.

While there is still a huge gap in our understanding of empire and its consequences, these programmes are important in reaching out to ordinary citizens, to educate, to inform, to illuminate the travesty of empire and its end. They also serve as important markers of remembering, but that alone is not enough. Which is why being in India/Pakistan during the days of August has been important. It highlights the disparity between the diaspora and those who live here. Capturing and sharing the narratives of survivors is important but from an academic perspective, what do these voices mean, what do they tell us, why are they still relevant? The memorialisation of this memory and how it tells this story is also significant. There is little worth in collecting hundreds and thousands of accounts by survivors if this is not contextualised or critically framed in the existing historiography. A simple account of someone’s life and their experiences is important but what about beyond that? What lessons can we take from this?

And our politicians are still in the business of selling a myth of a glorious past and a dream for the future. It is that future which needs to be critically examined in relation to the previous seventy years. Pakistan today seems fragile as ever but (and more importantly its people) it is a resilient country. For the best part of the last seventy years Pakistan has been swinging between military dictatorship and democratic rule, while India, largely a democracy, has been busy playing and expanding upon the Hindutva card. A future in which we see a further entrenchment of Islamic Pakistan and Hindu India is entirely possible and while not a recent development, it does need to be contextualised firstly in colonial history and secondly in the how the developments of the past seventy years led to this. Of concern for everyone should be that in this vision to be exclusively majoritarian, both India and Pakistan would lose an asset: its significant minorities. The diversity in all its richness is what makes these countries vibrant and valuable, they should be celebrated rather than suppressed and targeted. And so, seventy years on, while we remember the people who suffered in the great partition, let us not forget that there a battle going on today for the hearts and minds of people. Which is why it is seemingly more poignant being here in the sub-continent at this moment because it is a reminder of the unfinished business of azaadi beyond empire.

Partition, Short Essays

Freedom and Fear: India and Pakistan at 70

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IMG_1949
© 2014 Pippa Virdee

In the midst of the monsoon of August 1947, British India ceased to be and gave way to two independent nations. The logic of this Partition being religious and regional, the older and larger India was reinforced as a Hindu majoritarian society, while the newer and smaller Pakistan emerged as an Islamic country. No Partitions are total and absolute but this one was especially terrible and ambiguous and left a little less-or-more than 20% religious minority population on both sides. Moreover, it created two wings of Pakistan with a hostile Indian body-politic in the midst.

This event was not entirely of sub-continental making. The British Empire in Asia had begun to crack at the hands of the Japanese army during World War Two, most spectacularly with the fall of Singapore in February 1942, and crumbled in South Asia afterwards. Along with India and Pakistan, the-then Burma and Ceylon (both 1948) too emerged independent at this time. All this was to bring about many changes, both internally in India and internationally. Europe, the ravaged battlefield of the World Wars, ceased to be the centre of the Western world, with political and economic power shifting decisively to the former Soviet Union and the United States, representing two contrasting and conflicting ideological visions for the post-1945 world.

The end of the British rule in South Asia happened alongside the emergence of this conflict, christened the Cold War. The road to freedom and partition of India and creation of Pakistan was a long one and accompanied with fundamental social, economic and political changes. From the mutiny of 1857 from Calcutta to Delhi to the massacre of 1919 in Jallianwala Bagh, Amritsar, from the formation of the Indian National Congress in 1885 to the establishment of the All-India Muslim League in 1906, from fighting for King and country in two World Wars to seeking self-rule in the inter-war years, and, from the development of an elaborate civil and military bureaucratic and infrastructural apparatus and a space for provincial politics, all these were to completely transform Indian society.

Read the complete article via: http://magazine.thediplomat.com/#/issues/-Kq0QJtC_OQiU3Dy0tQ6 

Partition, Short Essays

No Man’s land: the Wagah-Attari Border

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Located at a short distance of 24 kilometers from Lahore, Wagah is a small village in Pakistan and placed strategically on the Grand Trunk Road and serves as the main goods and railway station between India and Pakistan. The Indian counterpart is Attari and both serve as the only official land border crossing between India and Pakistan. The Radcliffe Line that divides them was the scene of both immense horror and gratitude for those fleeing to the “promised lands” in August 1947. Poignantly for writers such as Sadat Hasan Manto, many migrants were torn between the two spaces of no man’s land. This legacy continues today for those divided by this border.

The Wagah-Attari border is more accessible to foreigners who cross the border rather than the citizens of India and Pakistan. Having used this route numerous times, it brings up all sorts of surprises every time. There is always a sense of uncertainty about the political climate between the two countries, which can change at short notice. When relations are good between them, the border seems a little more open and less hostile, there is generally more traffic of people, especially people with green and blue passports. Otherwise, there are hardly that many people using the border only the diplomats, foreigners and the select few. I am one of the privileged few. The Pakistani’s always ask me if I’ve enjoyed my stay and have I faced any problems? I always reassure them that I’ve had a wonderful time. The Indians it has to be said are less talkative, though on occasions I have been “treated” to cups of chai.

There is usually plenty of dramatic material for the writers, artists, and peaceniks etc that want to spend time here for inspiration. There is sadness as people (de)part, despair as people fail to crossover due to lack of proper paperwork, there are covert (or not so covert) spies keeping an eye on passengers, and then there are security/customs people who are keen to show their power and within the ordinary, there are the money changers and inquisitive coolies working hard, often in the full sun. But there are always people wondering about the “other”.

When I first crossed this border, over fifteen years ago, the border was a basic set-up in old colonial bungalows. You could literally walk across from one side to the other. Today, both have made this border into an airport style, elaborate process with scanners and plenty of formalities and paperwork. Previously the coolies were employed to help carry people’s luggage to the international boundary that divides the two countries and they would also exchange goods that were permissible under trade agreements; the two carried on side by side. Now trade is exchanged more formally via the goods and transit terminal and the coolies make their livelihoods through the meagre travellers passing through. Most of the coolies belong to Wagah and Attari and come from a generation of families who have lived and worked in this border area. It is unlike any other place in India or Pakistan. They have seen many changes and have many tales to share, often from divided migrant families themselves.

The Indian Border Security Force and the Pakistani Rangers have their daily ritual of lowering of the flag ceremony at the end of the day before sunset. Immaculately dressed, in Indian khaki and Pakistani Black, the soldiers walk and strut in their fast paced and intimidating style. Michael Palin, during his travels around the world, compared this to the Ministry of Silly Walks from the Monty Python sketches; this is not too far-fetched. Often referred to as the strut of the peacocks, this is a show of prowess, power, and pride of the most superficial nature. Hundreds of Indians and Pakistanis flock to see this spectacle of jingoistic and patriotic display. Few would wonder about how this well choreographed ceremony actually happens. It is in many ways an obscene drama that takes time to practice and perfect, and requires the two forces to work together. They do this away from the public gaze, so as to not taint the public image. This tradition started back in the 1950s has evolved now to only provoke the nationalist desire to fuel this antagonistic relationship between the two countries. It has continued to grow, attracting foreign as well as local tourists and the seating arrangements at the border are yet again being upgraded and expanded to accommodate the demand. Large crowds chant “Pakistan Zindabad!” or “Jai Hind!” to show their patriotism, waving their flags with unwavering allegiance to the idea of India and Pakistan. It is now nearly seventy years when the Radcliffe Line was drawn, and if anything, it seems this border has become even harder than previously.

Some useful links:

Peacock at Sunset by Frank Jacobs: https://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/07/03/peacocks-at-sunset/

The Wagah border ceremony in India: https://adventuresofagoodman.com/wagha-india-pakistan-border-history/

Pakistan, Short Essays

23 Sir Ganga Ram Mansion: The house of Amrita Sher-Gil

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No 23 Sir Ganga Ram

A few years back I had the pleasure of wondering around and exploring the old city remnants of Lahore, accompanied by Najum Latif, a migrant of 1947 and resident of the Androon Shehr. We start off where he lives, Sir Ganga Ram Mansion located just behind The Mall and a hidden gem of the who’s who in the history of Lahore’s former life. In its heyday of the 1930s, Lahore was a cultural centre for North India and writers such as Khushwant Singh and the artist like Abdur Rahman Chughtai (and a friend of Amrita Sher-Gil’s father) lived nearby. Only a few doors away from Latif’s house was where Amrita Sher-Gil rented an apartment with her husband, Dr Victor Egan. When Latif was growing up he was a frequent visitor to No 23, at the time he was unaware that Sher-Gil, the great Punjabi-Hungarian painter once lived there.

Sher-Gil was born in 1913 in Budapest, her father was the aristocratic landlord Sardar Umrao Singh Majitha and her mother a Hungarian opera singer. Educated in Paris, she took to the bohemian lifestyle of the Parisian art scene that allowed her to express herself truly. European in style, yet her paintings also reflect the multiple layers and textures of her own life and identity. Influenced by the work of Paul Cezanne, Amedeo Modigliani and Paul Gaugain, she later looked to India for inspiration, trying to fuse these two together. After spending four years in Paris, Amrita decided to return to India. She noted that, “My professor had often said that, judging by the richness of my colouring, I was not really in my element in the grey studios of the West, that my artistic personality would find its true atmosphere in the colour and light of the East” (Rizvi). During her time in India, she painted scenes from India, learning new techniques and getting inspiration from the breath of the sub-continent. Today she is considered one of the most important Indian painters of the 20th Century and certainly one of the most expensive female painters in India.

She was only 28 when died at 23 Sir Ganga Ram Mansion apartments, where she spent the last few months of her life. Her husband had a clinic on the ground floor and she painted upstairs, where they also lived. She first came to Lahore in 1937 from Paris when her work was exhibited at the famous Faletti’s Hotel. It was a resounding success and challenged the status quo of the art world. In September 1941 she came to Lahore so that she could plan for her solo exhibition in December; this never happened as she was suddenly taken ill and died in a matter of days. The planned discussion between Abdur Rahman Chugtai and Amrita Sher-Gil never happened and instead the exhibition opened but posthumously. Most of these works are now located in the National Gallery of Modern Art in New Delhi.

Amrita Sher-Gil still remains an enigma in death, as she was in life. The young artist was never to see the great legacy that she would leave behind and sadly few Lahoris would be aware that she once lived and worked in the great historic city. Her painting, Vina Player, still finds space in Lahore Museum but otherwise sadly her association with Lahore has all but evaporated. She was cremated on banks of the Ravi in Lahore on December 7, 1941, a river that now forms a natural boundary between India and Pakistan.

Other articles to read more about Amrita Sher-Gil:

Yours, Amrita by Dua Abbas Rizvi. http://www.thefridaytimes.com/beta3/tft/article.php?issue=20130726&page=16

Amritsar sisters posed for painter Amrita’s ‘Three Girls’ by Nirupana Dutt. http://www.hindustantimes.com/punjab/amritsar-sisters-posed-for-painter-amrita-s-three-girls/story-WsZhRAtCcX5BTMxicxcdBO.html

Chughtai’s Art Blog, http://blog.chughtaimuseum.com/?p=978

Finding Amrita in Lahore by Dalmia. http://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/finding-amrita-in-lahore/

Great success in a short life. http://budapesttimes.hu/2016/01/23/great-success-in-a-short-life/

India, Short Essays

The Curious Case of Multani Mitti and the Taj Mahal

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In 2001 Pakistan’s president General Pervez Musharraf came to Agra to hold a historic summit between India and Pakistan, with the aim of resolving some of the long-term fractious issues between the two nations. It has now been nearly 16 years since the two countries came close to finally resolving their enmity. As the talks collapsed it paved the way for the lost opportunities that both nations now lament at leisure. At the back of the Agra Summit, Musharraf also made a trip the Taj Mahal. In preparation for this trip the Taj Mahal got a face-lift, literally. Multani Mitti (mud from Multan, Pakistan where this lime-rich clay was originally found) was used to cleanse the Taj Mahal which was suffering from years of exposure to pollution and general wear and tear. Although it is less clear whether the Multani Mitti actually came from Multan. The Multani Mitti, which is effectively mud therapy and has been used for centuries as a beauty product, cleansed away the pollutants that gave the Taj Mahal more of a yellowish (dirty) appearance and now it gleams bright and white. In a recent visit to the Taj Mahal, the process of cleaning the historic site continues, slowly and painstakingly. Despite the hundreds of daily visitors looking for the perfect picture at the Taj Mahal, they have to suffice with the scaffolding.

For me a visit to Agra is incomplete without also paying homage to Fatehpur Sikri, the city founded in 1569 by the Mughal Emperor Akbar, which also served as the capital of the great empire from 1571-1585. Akbar choose the site to honour the Sufi Saint Salim Chishti (his shrine overlooks the capital city complex) and took great care in the vision and architecture of the capital, sadly once finished the complex was difficult to sustain due to the shortage of water into the city. One of the most architecturally rich pieces in the Diwan-i-Khas, hall of private audience, is the octagonal pillar, encompassing the secular, open and embracing vision that Akbar had for the new capital. The pillar brings together different architectural designs (see picture) highlighting his own interest in inter-faith dialogue. And it is here that Akbar apparently held his many theological discussions.

What was apparent in visiting the Taj Mahal and Fatehpur Sikri in the same day was the way both sites are treated, the Taj Mahal is by far the superior site. It attracts hundreds of visitors and foreigners (and Indians if they fail to bring ID with them) pay a generous entry fee and it is a site which is promoted by the UP government extensively. Where would ‘Incredible India’ be without the presence of the Mughal built Taj Mahal. Yet for me the deserted city of Akbar is equally, if not more, significant. It is more spread out and beams with the beautifully craved red stone architecture with geometric patterns, and the extraordinary Tomb of Sheikh Salim Chisti who was a descendant of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti of Ajmer. The Sufi Saint foretold the birth of Akbar’s son, who is named after him, Prince Salim (later Emperor Jahangir).

What connects the Multani Mitti and Agra is the myopic and selective amnesia that ‘Incredible India’ has towards its Mughal/Muslim heritage. Fatehpur Sikri is visibly less attractive as a tourist destination and visibly more ‘Muslim’ as a lived city and the Taj Mahal in its glorious white marble beauty is entirely a commercial complex and less of a tomb to Emperor Shah Jahan’s favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. While the irony of using Multani Mitti on the Taj Mahal to sustain Indian tourism is not lost on many, there is at the same time a marginalisation of other sites. This is of course intrinsically linked to the wider politics of identity and more importantly in terms of how the Indian state is re-affirming and re-positioning its own identity which is increasingly ‘Hindutva’ in essence and less embracing, thus moving away from Akbar’s pillar of inter-faith and tolerance. With this the hopes that President Musharraf and the Indian Prime Minister Vajpayee once bought to the tables have all but disappeared; seventy years on and we are still unable to live amicably with each other but at least we are alright with using Multani Mitti to cleanse away the superficial dirt that accumulates around us.

Short Essays

A (British) Indian in Lahore

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As I leave Lahore and arrive in Amritsar there is a feeling, as always, of self-consciousness about crossing over an international border. This is a border that I have crossed many times but surprises me every time. The experiences on the whole have nearly always been courteous. On a personal level the staff, the Pakistani Rangers and the Indian Border Security Force, have been polite, sometimes engaging but nearly always looking at me with some uncertainty, unable to quite place me. Since September 2016, when the Indian security forces were attacked in Uri, relations between India and Pakistan have continued to decline. This inevitably leads to the fall in the foot traffic at the Wagha-Attari border crossing. By default it means the porters have little or no work. It is the ordinary people who are always targeted, unable to get visas due to the strained relationship between the two. The silence at the border was noticeable, hardly anyone crossing the border today. In one short hour I was on the small open train from Wagha to the barely cold AC bus in Attari, India. I did not make much small talk; it was almost all a matter of fact. Sometimes they pull you aside, invite you for chai, and ask inquisitive questions, but not today. Today it was unusually quiet. In the searing summer heat who would want to walk across the border? Moreover, in the hostile lands, who wants to risk crossing the border? The Indian immigration officer, after stamping my passport quips to his friend standing near him that you hardly get any Pakistanis travelling across, I quipped back and said that’s because you don’t give them visas and walked off.

This is a hard and harsh international border; it was imagined in the drawing rooms by the outgoing colonial power but it has been re-imagined by the nation-states today. It is a stark reminder of the animosity and mistrust the two nations have of each other, yet it also conceals other truths. The border is open for all foreigners yet it is the most restrictive for the very citizens of those two nations that it is located in. Indians and Pakistanis are the most scrutinised people at the border. Looking around, one is never quite sure who performs what role; the “secret” agents are always lurking around. The border is harsher and more cumbersome for the ordinary citizens because they lack the right networks and knowledge, others, often elites of both countries, can still manage to cross the border. Thus the reality of this harsh border is dictated by the accessibility to power and while the rhetoric in the media is jingoistic, the lived experiences can be different. This applies also to the staff that regular work at the border. But the silence at the border this time also felt different, the Modi government in India is sending out a different message, a much more aggressive tone is palpable. Jinnah put forward the two-nation theory in 1940 and it seems that seventy years on, he was more perceptive than we imagined.