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Desperately
seeking Pakistan
Right in the middle of cross-border
ire and fire, 19-year-old Anand was in Pakistan on an edu trip-and
guess what he found?! That, perhaps, he never left!
By
Anand Vivek Taneja
 The
History Society of Ramjas College went to Pakistan. We are back
safe, sound and shappy (shocked + happy, from a mid-80s American
sitcom) from our eight-day trip to Lahore, Islamabad, Taxila and
Peshawar. Now it's time to think of theme songs. Theme songs, you
see, are very important for endeavors thought to be brave, noble,
courageous, foolhardy, or all of the above. Before the 13 of us
set out for Pakistan everyone else voted for 'all of the above'
and with the hijacking and all the rest of it, they didn't seem
to be wrong. Our theme song would be "I Still Haven't Found What
I'm Looking For" by U2. ... I have run, I have crawled I have scaled
these city walls Only to be with you But I still haven't found what
I'm looking for... We scaled mountains of bureaucracy, crossed the
electrified border at Atari Wagah, braved Indian and Pakistani customs,
but we did not find the Pakistan we were looking for...
NOT
IN LAHORE. LAHORE IS JUST ANOTHER DELHI WHICH REMEMBERS URDU
If
there are any two cities that can be said to be 'separated at birth',
it is these two. The Lahore Station, to begin with, looks like Old
Delhi railway station. Same Victorian Gothic architecture. It was
as if by catching the Samjhauta Express, we hadn't travelled at
all and as we travelled around Lahore, the temptation to sue for
copyright violation grew. The Lahore Fort, for one, looks like the
Red Fort. It also includes a Diwan-i-Aam, Diwani-i-Khas and a Moti
Masjid. The Badhshai Masjid is so similar to the Jama Masjid that
one could be excused for mistaking one for the other. The old, walled
part of Lahore is the old, walled part of Delhi. (Delhi Gate? Kashmere
Gate? You name it, they've got it.) Anarkali Bazaar is Chandni Chowk,
only much better. The Mall is Connaught Place, straightened out.
The cities are physically and historically so similar that when
you cross the Ravi you come to, hold your breath, Shahadra (both
Shahadaras are equally pathetic). There's even a Shalimar Bagh in
common; and Gulberg, where we stayed, could easily pass off for
Def Col in Delhi (with even a flyover thrown in). The people you
encounter reconfirm that you have not left Delhi. Some cities are
born Punjabi, some acquire Punjabiness, and some have Punjuness
thrust upon them. While Lahore belongs to the first category, Delhi
belongs to the latter. In Lahore, if not for the predominance of
salwar-kameez, you can quite easily believe that the border is just
a mirage. The effect is heightened when you meet teenagers who listen
to U2 and Led Zep, think Junoon is ultimately cool and talk in Mumbhaiya
slang because they've freaked out over Sanjay Dutt in Vaastav. When
you hear about dating hangouts and drinking binges, you feel slightly
disappointed at having come so far and never to have left home.
PAKISTAN
WAS ALSO CONSPICUOUS BY
ITS ABSENCE IN ISLAMABAD.
"Islamabad,"
in the words of one venerable gentleman, "is a very nice city. It
is only 10 minutes away from Pakistan." Islamabad is an enigma-it
looks as if it were imported from midwestern America and dropped
on to the Potwar plateau. Broad roads, wide avenues, tall trees,
spiffy supermarkets, ultramodern houses, all surrounded by hills-spectacularly
beautiful, and spectacularly dead. Jahangir's tomb in Lahore has
more life than the whole of Islamabad. You feel that a possible
explanation for the frequency of coups and other political upheavals
in Pakistan is that the ruling elite require regular doses of tension
and excitement to relieve them from the maddening boredom of Islamabad.
The most exciting thing in the city is the Faisal Mosque. It looks
like a spaceship trying to pass off for a tent trying to pass off
for a mosque, and succeeds in looking like nothing on Earth.
NO
PAKISTAN IN PESHAWAR. ALMOST LITERALLY.
After crossing the Indus at Attock, another
land starts. Foreign not just to us, but to any Pakistani, too,
from Lahore, Islamabad or Karachi. Peshawar is very Central Asian,
being just 30 miles away from the Afghan border. Walking through
the narrow alleys of Kissa Khwani Bazaar (The Story Teller's Market-harking
back to the days when caravans from Central Asia stopped here, and
travellers and merchants told their stories) and rubbing shoulders
with huge bearded Pathans speaking guttural Pushtu is a bit unnerving
to begin with. But the legendary hospitality of the Pathans soon
rids you of your fears and what follows is a general freakout. Gallons
of kahwa, mounds of Kabuli pulao, and piles of kebabs and karhai
gosht. Also, splurging on dry fruit, on woollen caps from Chitral
valley, and on traditional Peshawari sandals. Which is not all that
can be bought in and around Peshawar-because immediately to the
west of Peshawar are the territories of the tribal agencies, the
only law is tribal tradition. And since these territories are smack
next to the porous Afghan border-you can buy anything, cheap. It
is said that in Darra Adam Khan, 10 kilometres from Peshawar, one
can buy an AK 47 for eight thousand rupees! We contemplated bringing
one back as a souvenir!
NOWHERE
IN PAKISTAN DID WE ACTUALLY FIND PAKISTAN-
the 'enemy' country we were expecting to see.
Pakistan was hospitality. Pakistan was Mr Irfan Urmani, teacher
at Government College, Lahore, who waited all evening for our train
and landed up at the Youth Hostel at 11:30 pm to greet us, and showed
us around Lahore for three days. Pakistan was Beena Sarwar, the
Pakistan-India People's Forum for Peace and Friendship, Reza Kasim,
Haroun Sheikh, Dr Mubarak Ali and Naheed Siddiqui in Lahore; Amit
Baruah, Dr A H Nayyar, Dr Pervez Hoodbhoy and Sudhir Vyas in Islamabad;
Afrasiab Khattak and Khwaja Waseem in Peshawar-who all went out
of their way to make our travel comfortable, our evenings memorable,
and to stuff us way beyond capacity with food so delicious, it was
an insult to refuse. Pakistan was 'since you are from India....'
Since we were from India, we got: ... discounts in cassette shops.
... permission to take photos in Taxila. "I don't let foreigners
take pictures," said the caretaker, "but you're Indians..." ...
apologies from policemen. One who searched our luggage on the way
to Islamabad said, "I shouldn't be doing this. You're guests. But
I have to do my duty. I hope you don't mind." ... booze. During
Ramzan. In an officially dry country. Pakistan was concern. "I hope
everything is all right in Delhi. I hope people are not upset by
the hijacking," said the caretaker of Jahangir's tomb. "No, no.
Pakistan will lose," said the people in Islamabad who'd invited
us to tea on the day of the first India-Pakistan cricket match in
Australia. Everyone stayed away from the TV-we didn't want to get
tense; they didn't want to hurt our feelings.
SO
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ENEMY?
What
happened to the enemy who killed our soldiers in Kargil, whose main
export to us is terrorism, and whose secondary export is propaganda
via PTV? After some initial confusion you realize that there is
a very marked distinction between the Pakistani people and the Pakistani
state. The Pakistani state has put huge replicas of Chagai Hills
and Ghauri missile outside Lahore Station. The Pakistani state supports
the Lashkar-e-Toiba and the Harkat-ul-Mujahideen and the like, who
openly walk on the streets of Lahore, asking for donations for the
cause of 'Azad' Kashmir. While we were there, the Lahore Division
of the Laskhar-e-Toiba had plastered posters all over the city,
saying, 'Congratulations on the release of Maulana Masood Azhar'.
But the same Pakistani state did not stop us from roaming around
in Lahore, past midnight. Strange.
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