Boundaries - Sarhad k Us Paar

Chhum - Border area Azad Jammu Kashmir

I should've written it a month back when I visited the LOC, when I was full of emotions, when my Hindustani friends were asking for the feedback, when my history students needed to read this the most, when I was attending all these history for peace conferences by seagull foundation, I should've written it before the specter of Kalbhushan Yadev started hovering above our heads.

But I was afraid that people won't understand these feelings and would rather label me as a RAW agent, an Indian disguised as a Pakistani teacher, a blogger with an agenda, a nobody who thinks she is something and by talking like this she can bring peace between the two states and stop the war.

"Peace with enemies?" I thought they'd say. "What sort of an inhuman is that? No sane person would want that! Oh you talk of peace when those bloody Indians are massacring your people in "YOUR" Kashmir?" they'd ask me, I was sure.

But I was mistaken, I was mistaken to think this is just a phase and it will be over soon and then i will be able to write and disseminate the message because this is not some temporary phase, this is a permanent phase of growing hatred, with each passing day with each new generation. Being brought up in one such generation and finding enough reasons to make sure that the definition of "Patriotism" in my country means hating your "enemy", I remained a true Patriot. The more the hate the better nationalist it presents.

My lament for not writing this earlier or not ever speaking of this "sensitive issue", would be a never ending story, so I'd rather come straight to the point and start off with my experience at the Sarhad of Kashmir. But If you'd allow me I'd like to begin from the very beginning.

Source: Web

You know what a Sarhad - border is? Oh, you must have some perception of it today or as you were growing up... To me, it was always the one that's shown in the movies; barbed wires or where there a big cemented wall separating the two states like Israel and Palestine. Or a somewhat happier border where there are some beautiful fields of sarson or wheat, hiding in which somebody may plan a secret crossing of the border. Or the one where army jawans are standing tall, all joining hands on each side of the border, "don't they just get tired", I would often think as a kid and then I'd myself answer "Oh silly you! they do, of course, they do get tired and that's why they are so highly appreciated and applauded." (sarhadon pe/ki hifazat isi ko tau khetay hain)

I remember the first time my sister visited Lahore, back in the year 2004 on a school trip, when she was in grade 7th and me in 6th. She came back with so many stories of Lahore but the most enchanting one was the visit to Wahga. She told me, "I saw this Indian TV star on the other side of the border" (named charoo as a charterer in her star plus drama -- In Pakistan star plus dramas used to be a thing in those days just like Zindagi Gulzar Hai or Humsafar are in present day in India — but of course we were never taught to live on the common grounds so let's not talk about this).

"People are so close to each other, they could literally just move to the other side had there been no barrier" she would say, and all i could imagine was some barbed wires and people were plunging at them, pushing past the crowd, holding hands through the bars, eyes wandering searching for their friends or relatives in the crowd.

I would ask her all the questions popping in my head, like "So can people bring food and other gifts and pass through those gaps? do people exchange letters? Do they get to talk? How long can they stay there for?" etc etc

Source: Pinterest

Annoyed she'd say, "oho no! it doesn't work this way behna. There are soldiers they don't let people come close to the gate. They are marching on each side to entertain people and we have to respond with enthusiasm and cheer as loud as we can."

"What are we getting so happy about?" I would ask and she'd say I can't explain it to you because you haven't been there so you won't understand. Why don't you go there and see for yourself?

That was it my row of questions ended there and I decided that I have to visit Lahore someday just to experience Wahga.

Some years later in 2011, I got the opportunity of visiting Wahga for the first time ever. I still remember how we parked our cars in a muddy, dusty area and started walking towards the border, which is the "The Grand Trunk Road" (TG rd - yet another commonality between the two states)

On getting closer I saw some architecture, a doorway the balconies of which some Urdu and Arabic verses were carved and pasted and the soldiers standing. Then came the stairways where we had to be seated.

All my dreams shattered that day, this was not the border I had romanticized. Thought I was a very Patriotic Pakistani (according to the terms mentioned above of course) but I could not fathom how a border could be so well organized and there nobody really longing to see each other or searching for a familiar face in the crowd. To be honest I was very disappointed but then I told myself.

"Hey silly, what were you looking for? This is the enemy's border. All you have to do it to cheer up as your sister once told you and raise the small flag you've been given like everybody else and support your soldiers over the enemy, show them who you are!!"

Source: Web

I figured out that day that borders are very boring places where the only exciting thing is the  competition between Indian and Pakistani soldiers who are doing the parade, lowering the flags, stomping their feet with all their strength, shouting at the top of their voices, each trying to be better at this race than the other. I realized oh so it's a competition "jahan jis ki taang unchi usi ka mulk bhi uncha" these are the things on the basis of which the patriotism is gauged and the self-respect challenged.

And I ended up being super excited and happy at the thought of excelling the highest level of patriotism and I would narrate that incident for days to come. How we Pakistanis won that competition. The Indian soldier was short heightened and Gabru jawan's (tough young soldier) stomping and shouting left him feeling a bit conscious but still, our jawan (soldier) was so down to earth that, you see he even shook his hand with the enemy at the end."

Years passed, life took turns, friends changed, new perceptions begin to form.. and then came the year 2017

Okay so we're in the present, not that we're coming from B&W to the colour but a lot has changed in the past few years, military dicktatorship has gone and now the democracy is thriving but a lot is still the same in terms of sentiments or it won't be wrong to say much worse. Because of mass murderers coming into power or Kashmir issue worsening or banning the art and artists across borders or accusations of attacks that remain forever unresolved — the hatred grew and Aman ki Asha died.

But something had changed in all these years. Life kept throwing chances at me to get to learn the other perspectives, people would bump into me, a line i had read somewhere won't let me sleep at night, the partition stories i could never read in my syllabus books now started haunting me, a deep hole started taking place in my heart.

Only to later realise that the purpose was to fill it up with the love, the alien sort of love that i never thought i was capable of. Each day i'd read so many messages ending at the note "-- with love/Respect/Admiration from across the border." Each day some one would ask me to teach them how to speak salees Urdu, when they would try to adopt your culture and start the conversations with "Mohataram, kesi hain aap?" uff that Mohtaram would feel like somebody had emptied a truck load of rose petals on you. No, i'm not even exaggerating.

Stories, dates, words and most importantly these "foreign" people, my own people who were forsaken by me and by many like me started filling my life or phir pata hi ni chala kab Sarhadain paar ho gaeen - Yaad nahi kab nafrat muhabbat main badal gai. Hindu Kaafir turned slowly into a Jigri dost. The intimacy grew not just with the people but the land, a strong pull that i'm still unable to understand started growing. Long plans to visit each other and crossing borders always remained plans. With each new hope a new political issue would take it's toll and it would seem just impossible to ever be on the other side.

So one such day during a random conversation, my friend in India said, "I'm going to Kashmir tomorrow"

What followed was the screams and excitement, "Omg, me too", I said. Haha! so after jumping and screaming for a while, we reached a conclusion of waving each other from wherever we would be.

Although I was going to Chumb, a border area but not even in my wildest dream had i thought that i'd ever get see the actual border, where boundaries meet or rather divide apart.

Chumb // Waterfall

Though the tale of reaching Kashmir is a long one but the sights i can tell you, were absolutely breathtaking. Seeing the small valleys unfolding and the river taking turns, flowing with all it's might and the loud noise of the water fall charming the entire village. Armies marching up and down and the noise of gun fires echoing in the mountains, where jawans were practicing. This all makes Kashmir very alien and foreign, something that can never be imagined but only felt by physically being there. 

Jawans of Pakistan Army marching towards their practicing field

Those muddy paths with the heavenly views felt so unreal and the beautiful wood houses, which one encounters only in the movies and tv screens were now just one step away. A small boy coming from madrassah, some young men busy in a group discussion and an old lady carrying woods - would all stop and start staring at you. They all wanna know your purpose of coming here, in this distant village and that too along with cameras in hand.

They suspect we're from media but on knowing we were just ordinary people who're not going to corrupt and manipulate their lives by showcasing them on tv screens for the sake of rating, the lady offers me to join her for tea and points towards her house among one of those beautiful wood houses. I gladly accept the offer, promising her to pay her a visit before leaving. The other men also lend their offers for any help and assistance they could provide during our stay.

I had always heard people in Kashmir are not very hospitable, I don't know about people in general but the residents of the valley we visited were quite loving and showed great care and concern.

The valley adjacent to Chumb

After the stay at Chumb our local driver offered to take us to the LOC... upon hearing his offer we all stared at each other for a while, not sure if it was the horror, fear or excitement. Whatever it was, it didn't remain for too long and we couldn't help but say yes. It was a great opportunity and none of us could afford to lose it.

Map of Azad Kashmir on Chumb waterfall // We could trace our next destination...

As the car headed towards our new journey, it remained filled with mixed unknown emotions as if we're going to climb K-2 or Everest. Nobody would talk because we were all trying to figure out what exactly it was that we were feeling and then all of a sudden Zauq turned to me smiling and after a pause asked "What are your feelings about this?" And before I could answer our smiles turned into a happy laughter and then the whole car was sharing the same excitement. We both starting uttering words like "Omg i still can't believe this, I'm nervous, ecstatic, a bit scared, emotional, nostalgic, my heart's pounding fast etc etc" we were trying to fathom our feelings into phrases but it just seemed impossible. The rest of our time we kept looking out of the window imagining all the possibilities of what it would be like to be at the border between the two states.

But among none of those possibilities was being stopped at the scary check-posts. Perhaps we were too excited we almost forgot about the fact that where we were headed was the most strictly guarded place in the sub-continet if not the world.

We were first stopped at a market check-post, on observing i realised people who were coming from the otherside were strictly checked and monitored and from our side very few vehicles were passing and i was afraid we would be returned and would never make it to the border. The eldest and the more sensible in us was taken along with the drive inside the check-post and a little later we were all asked for the Identity card's and papers etc.

The snow covered peaks of Kashmir - across the border

In the meanwhile I noticed some kids playing happily on the other side of the barrier, which i thought to be the last village before India. I called them out in hope to start a conversation and to find all the answers for the questions popping in my head but to my disappointment, none of them came. Instead a young soldier came with the driver to take away all our gadgets warning aggressively, "Don't you know that filming is strictly prohibited?" We told him it's our first time so we didn't know that, he can keep whatever he wants but to please let us go ahead and then they were gone again.

Losing all hope of moving forward I started staring at the mountains and the kids once again and soon I was lost in a dialogue with my own self, "Kis ye khud ko Khush qismat samjhtay hain ya Bad-qismat k ye is akhri gaun main bastay hain? Khushqismat is liye k wo Azad-Kashmir ka hissa hain, jahan curfew nahi hotay, jahan khoon nahi behta, jahan lashain nahi girti. 

Or bad qismat is liye k wo jo darya agla gaun tha jahan unkay rishtedar or dost ehbab rehtay thay wo ab aga gaun nahi agla mulk hai, jahan ab dost nahi dushmnan ghoomtay hain or wahan janay ko sirf dariya paar nahi karna parta balkay border paar karna parta hai, jo k bilkul bhi asaan nahi. In main se kitno ko wahan janay par aatankwaadi ki nazar se dekha jata hoga? Kia inhay dar lagta hai k aaj bhi har jharap ka pehla nishana yahi hotay hain? Ya kia ye aadi ho gaey hain?" 

"As to the destiny of their fate what would these people be thinking about their being in the last village on this side of the border? Do they consider themselves fortunate or Unfortunate? Fortunate because they are living in Azad Kashmir (Independent Kashmir), where curfews are not imposed, where there's no blood-shed, where people are not massacred where streets are not haunted...

 And unfortunate because the next village where their kins&folks live is no more a neighbouring village but now falls within the domain of another country occupied by the enemy. Where now not only one has to cross the river but also a border - which is not only difficult but impossible. How many of these would now be seen not as friends but as atankwadis (foes/Penetrators)? Do these people think of themselves still fear to be the victim of skirmishes or war from any side of the border. Or have the gotten used to it?"

I was busy asking myself so many questions like these and then trying to console myself with the best possible answers I could think of.

Picture taken by Zauq

I was so steeped into it that i didn't realise a small boy had already approached me and was asking, "How may I help you". I looked at him and afraid that my questions are too big and heavy for such a small delicate soul and would make him skip away I changed my mind. Because i didn't want to be left alone and further dwell myself into that agonizing thought process, so i asked him, "I want to wash my face can you pour some water?" He took the bottle from my hand and waited patiently while i cleansed my face with soap. The only successful conversation we could make was him pointing at my face telling me "there's still some soap left on your face" and when I was done he smiled and nodded his head with a gesture that it's now clean and just then the rest of my companions were back again from the check posts.

It took us at-least half an hour to complete the inquiry procedure and they finally allowed us to move ahead. Our driver apologised, saying he should've known and warned us of these difficulties beforehand but he didn't know it himself since he was taking somebody from Islamabad, Pakistan for the first time to the border.

No, It's not that this man would have been taking Uzbeks/Tajiks or for that matter even an Americans to the border before, but a non-Kashmiri for the first time. Azad-Kashmir is a self-governing administrative division of Pakistan, but the inhabitants don't call themselves Pakistanis. Perhaps they want to feel independent in a true sense so in fact they take pride in calling themselves Kashmiris and to maintain this representation, they'll talk to you for instance as, "Acha aap Pakistan se aey hain?" Even I was taken aback the first time i heard such statements and thought to myself, "Pakistan se? like seriously?" but I have realised that perhaps this is how things should be, nobody should be carrying around forced identities.

Anyhow, getting the permission to go ahead was an achievement in itself, so we told him it's alright, these things are bound to happen and we were happy to be back on track. But the happiness was short lived indeed, upon hearing from the driver that there are still two more check posts to go, and so we again sat stiffly and the fear started hovering on us. "So this is what war and conflict brings forth" I told myself and for the first time in my life I looked back at that lil' girl who journeyed on the Grand trunk road happily, without any difficulty thinking borders are happy places. Today I was being proven wrong.

As expected we went through the same strict screening procedure on the next two check-posts and fortunately having being cleared therefrom we finally reached our destination...

Pictures taken from mobile camera

But I for one reached the place which i had romanticized, just the perfect place but with the constraint of border and glass views and walls closing in... 

I wanted to never leave that place and yet run away at once. Does it ever happen that you feel both happy and sad at the same time? You see the best and worst all at once? You want to say so many things yet you can scarcely fathom the idea of turning thoughts into words? Days when you feel so complete yet empty...

Why does one have to suffer from the paradox of contradiction?

Is this what they call going numb in ecstasy...