An Indian in Pakistan

I am 29, a management professional working in Hyderabad, India. I and my wife and me undertook the 2000 kilometer journey to Pakistan for the cricket matches. As an Indian whose parents were born in Lahore, the trip meant much more than cricket.

I have written down some of my impressions in the form of Lahore Diary, starting from experiences on the Delhi-Lahore bus.


The Delhi-Lahore bus

At the Ambedkar terminal, people start queuing up at the gates from 3.30 A.M. for the Delhi-Lahore bus. The passengers are a mix of Indians, Pakistanis and others; twenty odd cricket fans, a woman from Karachi with four kids, a man returning from Jaipur after getting the ’Jaipur foot’ fitted on his brother, a mother-daughter combo from Islamabad, a Dutch feminist, two armed policemen and a liaison officer from PTDC.

The bus has three halts in the Indian territory for breakfast, tea and lunch respectively and these present a good opportunity for the passengers to mix together. At Kartarpur, Punjab, the last halt, there is a signboard showing an Indian and a Pakistani hugging each other in the backdrop of the Lahore bus, with Delhi written on one side and Lahore on the other, and saying "Dil ka darwaza khol ke aana, par wapis jakar humein bhool na jana" (While coming, open the doors of your heart, but don’t forget us when you get back).

Attari and Wagah

Around 2 P.M., we are at the customs in Attari (India), where, amidst a lot of confusion, we are checked out after two hours. We are back for the journey from Attari to Wagah, a perceived distance much greater than the few hundred meters of physical distance.

After all, this is Pakistan!

The huge gates, manned by a six-and-half-foot BSF jawan with INDIA written prominently on top, are opened, and as the bus rolls in, there is huge applause from the passengers. For many on board, it’s a very emotional moment. I am one of those. Being on the others side of the Wagah border meant I am nearing the place where my parents were born (Lahore), where they learnt to walk and take their first steps.

After breezing through the formalities at Wagah, we get back to the bus and slowly, the landscape turns to green, and boys in Pathani suits are seen playing cricket.

Hundreds of people (on the roads, in the shops, from houses) stop in their tracks to catch a glimpse of the bus. I wave incessantly and most people wave back, with a huge smile as a bonus, and that makes my day.

Lahore

As the bus drops us at Falletti’s hotel, we find the roads full of the Daewoo city buses, some double deckers, Mehran Suzuki cars (the exact equivalent of India’s Maruti 800), three wheelers (called Rickshaws), Tongas, the Suzuki vans (India’s Maruti vans, a.k.a. DABBA in Lahore), Chaand gaadi (a six-seater shared vehicle) and dozens of motorbikes.

I am put up with a friend, who I got to know on the Internet and he takes us home after driving us through the Mall Road, the High Court, the Post Master General’s office and the Secretariat. Institutions and structures appear remarkably similar. But for the Urdu signage, I could have been anywhere in Delhi.

We meet many people, and almost everyone has some relative or acquaintance in India, and India is very much considered a ‘happening’ place. Indian soap operas are extremely popular, and shape a number of perceptions, one of them being that every Indian woman is like Kumkum or Tulsi from Star Plus.


Tracing roots

Names of roads have not been changed in Lahore from the times of 1947. This fact, coupled with help from my host helps me track my father’s place on Dev Samaj Road, the house in which he was born and my mother’s house on Nisbet Road.

Being at those places is a very special experience for me. I click photos from every angle, and also call up my parents from there. We chat with the present occupants of the house and like everywhere else in Lahore, the hospitality is lavish.

The senior of the house is overjoyed on seeing us, and he takes off the watch he is wearing and affectionately puts it on my wrist. He takes off the Parker pen in his pocket and gives it to my wife.


At the Gaddaffi stadium



I am in my blue Indian-team T-shirt. Mehmaannawaazi continues inside the stadium as well: a young man in Pakistani greens gets us two glasses of Pepsi. An elderly gentleman offers us paan.

The cricket has begun, but the crowd is keen on doing its own thing. Banners and confetti. Mexican waves. Besides the Indian and Pakistani flags, those of USA, Bahrain, Kashmir, Sweden and the UK are visible as well.

Whenever the giant screen in the stadium shows a politician, the crowd gets into shouts of ’LOTA LOTA’ (symbolizing double sided and turncoat).

Slogans get invented. Most common slogan is "Match tusi le lo, Aishwarya saanu de do" (take the match, give us Aishwarya). When the screen shows Sunil Shetty, the crowd cheers like mad.

Good shots are cheered for both sides, and as Pakistan flattered to deceive, the crowd is disappointed at the loss, but genuinely happy for us. People walk up to us and say ’congratulations’ and well played. A tall Pakistani walks up to me and offers his Pakistan flag in exchange for my Indian tricolour. We do so and pose for a photo. Another wants my Indian cap, and says he would want to keep it as a symbol of ‘Dosti’.

People are desperate to get an Indian souvenir: in the end, we end up giving Indian coins, and a few currency notes, after having written ‘With love from India’ on them.


Food Street

Having been an important political and cultural centre in the Mughal and British eras, Lahore has an amazing array of sights and places for the tourist: the beautiful Badshahi mosque, the picturesque Shalimar gardens, Jahangir’s tomb, the Minar-e-pakistan, Govt College Lahore, Punjab University, the Lahore fort (with Rudyard Kipling’s Zamzama, Kim’s gun). The famed Anarkali bazaar looks like Karol Bagh, and is reasonably priced compared to the plush shops in Liberty and Gulberg. But nothing can match the verve and activity of Food Street on Gawal Mandi. It is a long row of eateries, accommodating over 2000 people at one go, where shops serve mostly traditional food and continue to be open from 4 P.M. to 4 A.M. Many of the shops are decorated with kites of different hues, the Basant festival having recently got over. Although finding vegetarian food wasn’t easy, people’s eagerness to do just about anything for the ’Mehmaans’ made it a song.


We are born
The most common saying in Lahore is ‘Jine Lahore nahi takeya, o jameya nahin’ (one who hasn’t seen Lahore isn’t born).

Thankfully, we have been born. As we long to get back there, insahallah, we will be reborn soon !