Author:
Publication: Rediff
on Net
Date: December 8, 200
When Partition occurred,
many Muslims left India for Pakistan and many Hindus left Pakistan for
India.
Some, though, stayed
back in the land of their birth, determined that a political decision would
not dictate their path in life.
Yet, 53 years later,
the old wounds refuse to heal. Instead, painful new ones have been
inflicted.
Roving Editor Ramesh
Menon visited Rohtak in Haryana where some Pakistani Hindus, who came to
India on a 30 day tourist visa, swear they will never return home.
Ever.
Every day seems like
a year. Almost.
As Time painfully drags
on for the 42 Pakistani Hindus living by the minute in a small, dusty village
called Kahnaur in Rohtak, Haryana.
It has been quite a while
since their visas expired. But none of them are packing their bags
to go home. They do not want to return to the hell they have escaped
from.
India has been like a
breath of fresh air. There is something here that makes them comfortable.
Something called Freedom. Respect. Safety.
For almost all of them
have the same horror stories. They recount how numerous Pakistani
Hindus have converted to Islam; they say it is the only way they could
survive. It is the only way they could get Respect. Acceptance.
The only way to enter the mainstream in an Islamic nation.
The oldest among the
refugees is Sidhu Ram. Over 70 years old, he crouches on a coir charpoy
outside his makeshift dwelling in Kahnaur. "We do not want to go
back," he says simply. "Do whatever you can to help us. Our
daughters are growing up. We came here to protect their dignity.
We cannot go there now. We would rather die than go back."
The conversation is weighed
down with long pauses of silence. As Sidhu Ram quietly looks into
the distance. The morning breeze gently plays with the ring in his
left ear lobe.
It has taken a lot of
persuasion to make him talk. But the fear does not leave his eyes,
not even for a second. His family members stand around him, unnerved
by my presence and my questions.
Whenever a stranger approaches
their makeshift mud and red brick hut -- constructed for them by the sympathetic
villagers -- these illegal residents find their hearts racing. They
wonder if the strangers are plainclothes policemen or officials from the
district administration. They dread the moment when they will be
asked to pack up and leave.
It feels terrible living
on borrowed time.
To reflect on how times
change.
When India was partitioned
53 years ago, communal riots rocked both the countries. Thousands
of Muslims fled India, even as thousands of Hindus wrapped up their lives
in Pakistan. There was blood on the streets. There were dead
bodies everywhere.
Sidhu Ram and his family
were told by kind Muslim neighbours that they would always be protected,
always be cared for. Stay, they had said.
His mind drifts back
to the time when all his neighbours and friends had assured him safety.
Caring. Love. He re-enacts how his Muslim neighbours had affectionately
put their arms around his children. How they said, "They are like
our children. No harm will ever come to you."
They were true to their
word. Until the Babri Masjid fell in India.
Everything changed after.
The Hindus no longer felt comfortable in Pakistan.
Now, even the dead are
denied a cremation. "We have to bury our dead like the Muslims do,"
says Sidhu Ram. "There is discrimination at every step. That
is why we are here."
Many of them have Muslim
names. "It makes us feel safe," says another Pakistani Hindu.
Many have have attached suffixes like Mohammed or Allah to their original
names.
Like Ranguram, 18, a
labourer in Layya district of Pakistani Punjab. Now, he spells out
his name for me with pride. In Pakistan, he had called himself Rang
Ali. Not anymore, though. Now that he is in India, he has reverted
back to his original name. As have the others.
But it may not be forever.
"They will have to go back their Muslim names if they are deported," laughs
a Kahnaur villager.
None of the Pakistani
Hindus smile. The tragedy, for them, is real.
Almost four months ago,
Sidhu Ram asked his extended family of 35 members -- all Pakistani Hindus
-- to apply for tourist visas to visit their relatives in India.
All of them belonged to Layya and were either agricultural or semi-skilled
workers.
They had lived in Pakistan
all their lives; but when they were granted the visa to visit India, their
hearts fluttered with joy.
They packed their meagre
belongings and boarded the Samjhauta Express. Among the luggage was
a clandestine article -- the idol of a Hindu deity called Pabu. They
feared they would be caught, but the idol was easily smuggled across.
Once they were with their
relatives in the safety of Kahnaur village, they decided never to go back.
Soon after, seven more Pakistani Hindus arrived. They too pleaded
with the locals and the district administration to allow them to stay.
It had not hurt to leave
Pakistan. None of them had any property. Or any form of wealth.
Or memories they wanted to cling to.
A few days on Indian
soil and their mind was made up. They valued the religious freedom
they received in India. The idol was installed in a makeshift temple.
Built with mud and brick and a temporary hay roof, the temple could easily
blow away in a storm. Yet, it makes them feel good.
Back in Pakistan, some
temples were destroyed in retaliation for the Babri Masjid demolition.
Those that survived retribution are neither being repaired or renovated.
As a result, most temples across the border are in a dilapidated state.
Sidhu Ram and his family
have numerous relatives in Kahnaur village. Distant ones. But
it does not matter. At last, they feel wanted.
Life, though, is far
from comfortable.
Home is two tiny rooms
made of mud plaster and red brick. The matted hay roof just about
keeps the sun out. If it rains outside, it will rain inside too.
But that is the least
of their concerns. Instead, they worry about whether they will still
be here when the rains come.
