My grandfather, father, uncles, and aunts were all born in Pakistan (before partition). Chunian Ka Moda, Rawalpindi was their home.
After partition, they came to India, forever leaving their hearth and home, to adopt a new village in a new and separated country, India
My grandmother told us that some of her friends buried their gold ornaments and precious belongings in their courtyard, hoping to come back. But they could never go back.
Years passed by, and since long, the two nations are at loggerheads – political differences that percolated deep into the roots – into the lives of the common citizens of the countries.
The other day, I was watching a documentary film on NDTV, which dealt at length about the traumatic experience of the people on both sides of the border to manage a visa or entry into another country. I was deeply saddened by the state of affairs.
As someone whose forefathers belonged to Pakistan, I have great desire to visit this country one day. But, I am not sure if that will be easy. I am not sure, if as an Indian, I will ever get a chance to travel freely in that country, without restrictions. Will I get a visa, ever.
Just imagine for a moment, one huge nation, divided its boundaries for narrow political interests and today stands against each other as rivals – everywhere – in sports and entertainment.
Ironical it is…very ironical.
Hope one day, I can visit those lanes of Chunian Ka Moda (Rawalpindi) where my grandfather lived with his children. Where my grandmother made rotis in a saanjha choolha ( a common stove used by the women in a neighborhood to make wheat breads).
This post and this song is dedicated to the people on both sides of the border – a tribute with love – especially for my little friend Yasmeen.
A country divided into two, but the love and the ties remain the same – fresh and vibrant – never dying. I am sure, my brothers and sisters on the other side of the border share the same emotions as mine.
Man-made borders could not divide the love that still persists – undivided.