Borders and Boundaries
Will there be a time when boundaries would cease to exist between India and Pakistan; when travel would become seamless; when hearts would whisper for each other, says Syeda S Hameed

It was the same sky, the same grass beneath our feet and the same birds soaring overhead. The man brought a few chairs. 'Please sit, it will take a few minutes'. Another man appeared with glasses of water. It was October 24, 2007, a balmy afternoon. I was at the border of Pakistan and India. Poets have called it Sarhad, a word fraught with many meanings. But let me begin at the start.

I had planned this trip for a long time. It was a no-agenda trip. I had no meeting, no conference, no shopping, no sightseeing in mind. I just wanted to bask in the comfort of love and affection of family who had been torn away from me through no desire or will exercised by any of us.

Travel to Lahore was cheaper if we crossed the border on foot apart from being much more exciting. So that is what I decided to do. My own family warned me against going 'in such dangerous times'. They asked me to apply my mind and give it another thought. A young girl was to accompany me. She had always dreamt of going to Pakistan and had shared her dream with all her friends. It struck me that no one from her family expressed a single doubt. I realised that excessive caution about Pakistan has nothing to do with whether you are Muslim or Hindu. It has a lot to do with a mindset and a little with to do with generation. Whereas we the older generation still carry baggage of the past, youth have left it far behind. I remember that in 2000 some of us had taken a Women's Bus of Peace to Pakistan. It was a people-to- people- initiative. Other than visas we had sought no permission from either government. But the very fact that a bus of 42 women had arrived in Lahore had got for us a meeting with General Pervez Musharraf. We met him in a small delegation of seven. Among us was a student from Lady Shri Ram College, who happened to be president of the College Union. She looked at the President of Pakistan in the eye and spoke words I will never forget. “Youth from both countries don't want to haul the baggage of the past, That is your baggage. We want to move on, to enjoy each other's music, art, lifestyles.”

In Amritsar, having taken the blessings of Darbar Sahib, Gunjan and I embarked on our journey. Leaving the city behind we headed for Attari the last Indian post before the narrow strip called no-man's-land and Wagah, the gateway to Pakistan. We made calls and sent messages, knowing that in half-an-hour, despite international roaming, our cells won’t work. Near the border we saw a long line of covered trucks. “Tomatoes,” our driver informed us. This has recently been allowed. “And from the other side?” we asked. “Dry fruit -- kishmish, badam, khurmani, sarda.” “And chilghozas?” I head read about chilghoza (pinenut) diplomacy a few days ago.

On the Indian side it was smooth passage. No one bothered an elderly woman with a Diplomatic Passport and a young girl in tow. Indian security took me as far as they could. Pakistanis took over. “Kaka saamaan chuk,” an old man placed our small luggage on his head. I looked up at the impressive Gateway of Pakistan called Baab-e-Azaadi (Portal of Freedom). “Do you know what that says,” I asked Gunjan, pointing to an inscription on the gate. “Pakistan ka matlab kya? La Illaha Illallah.” (What is the meaning of Pakistan? There is no God but one God). Who can deny that, I thought.
That is when Gunjan and I found ourselves sitting on the sprawling lawns at the border watching the skies and the birds and the grass which ran freely from one side to the other. We waited for passports and other officious papers. Only humans need visas, Gunjan said. Sarhads hold no importance for any other denizen of nature.

It was then we spotted our host, former finance minister of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and among two or three of his confidantes, walking over to greet us. Before he reached us several security guards, who had been lounging around, sprang up to shake hands. All smooth sailing for musafirs from India. We entered a swanky reception area where custom formalities had to be completed. By this time I had relaxed having placed ourselves entirely in the care of our host. Suddenly, I noticed a little excitement at the immigration counter. My heart lurched. Someone had misread the dates on the visa page. Then it was over. Passports were handed back and we were escorted to the waiting car.

“We are sending tomatoes,” we offered as an opener. “Yes you are but tomatoes are Rs 125 a kg.” We were dumfounded. As we drove out we were struck by the elaborately decorated trucks waiting for the Indian tomatoes. The only word I could think of was Dulhan. We learnt that most of the truck drivers are from the Frontier. This intense beautification is not only in recognition of the livelihoods that these trucks give them, it is also their pride. NWFP was gateway to the world for South and South East Asia.

Lahore began to unfold before our eyes. From the dusty road which led out of Wagah we reached the canal which brought water to Lahore from Chenab -- before the Partition this 150-year-old canal would get water from the Ravi. We passed over the railway tracks on which trains brought people 310 miles from Delhi for years before it was closed down and reopened for Samjhauta Express a few years ago. The garden city then just burst before our eyes. We swung from the Canal road to Mall Road where Punjabi and other glitterati used to throng coffee houses in the heady 30's and 40's to discuss politics and Inquilab. We saw the huge chrome and glass buildings, the breathtakingly beautiful Art Gallery and the splendidly restored Tollinton Market. We craved for the famous Regal's Chaat and made plans to see the record breaking Pakistani film KKL (Khuda ke Liye) Lahore lured and beckoned us. People thronged the streets and I dreamt of a time when travel would become seamless and we could freely flow across borders and boundaries.

Syeda S Hameed is a member of the Planning Commission. She is the founder member of the Muslim Women’s Forum and a founder trustee of the Women’s Initiative for Peace in South Asia.