Wednesday, February 16 2005 17:45 Hrs (IST) - World Time -

Part I

Jis ne Lahore nahi wekhya o jamya hi nai (One who has not seen Lahore is not yet born: your life is worthless if you have not seen Lahore) goes an old Punjabi saying.

These words were constantly echoing in my mind when I received an invitation from the Institute of Chartered Accountants of Pakistan (ICAP) for participating in a conference in Lahore. It was an invitation too difficult to resist.

Pakistan is a very special place for me, as it is for every member of the huge displaced Punjabi community, which suffered the pangs of the partition and settled in India, becoming refugees in their own country.

I am born and brought up in India, of parents who hailed from what is now Pakistan. My father and grandfather once lived in a small village called Akora Khattak in Nowshera in NWFP (North West Frontier Province), while my mother and her relatives lived near Rawalpindi.

So, when ICAP extended an invitation to me to participate in a Conference in Lahore, I was very excited.

The first setback I received was when the Visa application was not accepted for processing by the Pakistan Embassy on the ground that they had not yet received the clearance from Ministry of Interiors.

I live in Nagpur, a city in central India and my departure was scheduled for January 13 and until 11th, the clearance of the Ministry of Interiors had not been received. I was in a tight corner, since, neither could I book my air ticket nor a bus ticket without a Visa.

I thought of giving up, but the desire to visit my ancestral place was so great that I was more determined to go. When I enquired about the bus service, I was told that the bus was booked fully until January 20; and in any case, they would not book my ticket unless I had a Visa granted.

The Ordeal:

I boarded a train to Delhi without a Visa and instructed my travel agent to keep trying for a Visa. However, when I met my agent in Delhi, my joy knew no bounds for I found that my passport had been stamped with a Visa to visit Pakistan.

The next morning I was at Wagah border proudly showing my papers, when I received another setback when I was told, "Sorry sir, you can't cross the border on foot unless you have a foreign passport, or unless you have a special permission from Ministry of External Affairs".

I vaguely remembered one of the delegates was talking about obtaining the permission, but since I was in time for the train at Atari, I decided to travel 5 kilometres to Atari and board the train, Samjhota Express, from there.

Though subsequently the permission from the Ministry was received, I preferred the rail journey for the return trip also. I wondered why they should give special privileges to foreign passport holders? I met an NRI, an American passport holder who proudly walked through Wagah whereas we lesser mortals are required to go through the ordeal of the train journey.

The Indian officer at Atari gave me a strange look when he found a Sikh travelling to Pakistan, and looked at my Visa with suspicion.

Obviously, people who travel by Samjhota are the people in India and Pakistan who have relatives on the other side of the border. And there are only a handful of Sikhs who live in Pakistan.

The officer advised me to remove my disembarkment form the Passport and keep it safely elsewhere, since the officers on the other side were likely to throw it away, and I would have difficulties to return.

When I asked if they are so bad on us, his reply was, "Assi unha nu taan bilkul hi nahi bakshde, oh saanu kyoun bakshange?" (We certainly don't spare them, why would they spare us?)

I noticed a similar attitude across the border also when I asked a Pakistani officer whether people sometimes cross the border illegally. "Tusi tapde ho, assi nahi" (You guys jump the border we don't), then added that it was 10 years ago at the height of the Punjab border, now it doesn't happen. I later realised that this hostility exists only at both sides of the border, and is non-existent as you travel in the countries. Sparing these two incidences, I did not come across any other occasion when anybody spoke bad about people on the other side of the border.

The train journey was the most traumatic experience. This journey deserves an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records as the slowest train journey in the world. It may take you more than 12 hours to travel 60 kilometres!!

First, nobody at the station will ever tell you when the train is likely to arrive. Time for the start of the train from Lahore is 8 AM, it reaches Wagah, the Pakistani side of the border where, all 400 odd passengers alight for immigration and customs clearance, the train restarts after all the passengers have been cleared, which usually happens late in the afternoon.

The train arrived at 3 PM, and we boarded the train. I found three more delegates at the station and we now became a delegation in true sense of the term.

Having boarded the train, I congratulated myself thinking that it was only an hour more for me to reach Lahore!! When I asked the officers when the train reaches Lahore, everyone smiled, and like always were non-committal.

The train, guarded by Indian Army-men, who rode on horseback to see off the train to Pakistan border, entered Pakistan, and soon we were at Wagah station, not knowing that we had to go through another frustrating experience.

There were two Immigration officers and two Customs officers and they were supposed to clear more than 400 travellers. People travelled with so much baggage, as if they were moving their houses!

Baskets of paan (betel) leaves, yards of clothes, mixer-grinder, kitchen appliances were being carried by most of the passengers. I was also told that some of them even dissemble bicycles and carry them in their baggage, since the price of a bicycle in Pakistan is Rs 3000!

Samjhota Express was an obsolete looking train and truly justified the name Samjhota, (compromise). Pakistan still manages with the technology that is at least three decades old.

We finally reached Lahore in the middle of the night. To our pleasant surprise, our hosts were eagerly waiting for us at the railway station who then led us to our hotel at Mall Road.