Friendly and wary across the border

Visiting Islamabad brings down one’s nose a degree or two. Here is the national capital of Pakistan built at almost the same time when Chandigarh came into being, but it comes across as a more lavish and better laid out city, opines Amar Chandel

LIVING in Chandigarh gives one a sort of superiority complex. After all, it is one of the country’s cleanest and prettiest cities. Phrases like Dilli ki ladki Banaras ki Gai, karam phoote jo bahar jaye (it will be the height of misfortune if a girl of Delhi or a cow of Banaras has to move out) are yet to be coined but the people of Chandigarh are unanimous about one thing: theirs is a unique city.

Visiting Islamabad brings down one’s nose a degree or two. Here is the national capital of Pakistan built at almost the same time when Chandigarh came into being but it comes across as a more lavish and better laid out city. Roads are wider, buildings are more impressive and the air is much cleaner. Even the general state of cleanliness is much to write home about. And the backdrop of the hills is more pristine than that of Kasauli and also much closer to the city.

In fact, Islamabad is right there at the foothills. In short, it beats Chandigarh by a convincing margin. Here is one subject — besides cricket and hockey — through which Pakistan can fulfil its desire of being not only at par with but one notch above India.

This mint condition has been maintained through strict discipline. No private building can rise above the first floor. No animals except cats and dogs are allowed within the city limits. Nor are three-wheelers. Naturally, traffic is far less chaotic and the air much cleaner.

Contrary to the preconceived impressions, one does not come across many burqa-clad women on the streets. In fact, I did not see even one. Instead, quite a few girls were in modern clothes like jeans. But then, Islamabad is not just any Pakistani city but a showpiece. As one Pakistani put it graphically during our visit there last month to cover the talks between the Foreign Secretaries of the two countries, it is the drawing room of Pakistan; the "bedrooms" are as bad as in any other Third World country. To see this real Pakistan, one has to go to the nearby Rawalpindi.

Even while travelling in Islamabad, we the journalists from India were shadowed by intelligence people at every step. We were not supposed to know that we were being trailed but the exercise was being conducted by motor-cycle borne people so amateurishly that one had to be really blind to miss them. This no-hide-but-seek game went to such extreme lengths at times that it became hilarious.

We decided to visit Faisal Mosque, considered to be among the biggest in the world. The motorcycle rider gave us company right from the hotel gates. When we reached the mosque, he duly melted into the crowd. We tried to photograph the structure but it just would not fit into our viewfinders. So we moved our vehicle further and further till the whole of it came into the frame. After finding the right spot we stopped suddenly, catching our unwanted companion unawares. We motioned him to a stop and requested him to take a group photograph. He hesitated and then obliged. One of us could not help a parting shot: "See you now at Jinnah Super Market". The poor man did follow us to the bazaar but maintained a respectable distance.

Incidentally, on that day the mosque was decked up with buntings exhorting the faithful to attend the rally a few days later of the Jamaat-e-Islami, at which people like the chief of the militant Hizbul Mujahideen outfit, Syed Salahuddin, spewed venom at India. It was tomtommed openly that many Pakistanis were taking part in the jehad in Kashmir and that many of them had become "martyrs" during their war against the Indian security forces. One wonders why the western powers which say there is no evidence of direct Pakistani involvement in Kashmir were deaf that day.

For us the constant surveillance might have been only irritating, but for the persons manning the Indian High Commission there it is quite a nightmare. Thanks to such snooping, they can hardly breathe easy. There have been many instances when Indian diplomats have been assaulted. That is why the High Commission building has to be provided with extraordinary security. The family members of the staff too live in a state of siege. The two countries in worse straits are Egypt — whose embassy suffered a bomb explosion some time ago and now resembles a fortress — and Iran.

Indian journalists stationed there also have to face a lot of pressure. Arm-twisting measures are many. We were told about the plight of one of them who has now shifted elsewhere. He was slapped with a telephone bill of more than three lakh rupees. He protested but his telephone connection was cut. Imagine the plight of a journalist without the telephone facility. It was restored several months later without any expression of regret.

We tore our hair when the fax lines at the media centre set up in the five-star Marriott Hotel refused to work for hours together. Some said these are always moody; others insisted that these had been tampered with. What gave credence to the second theory was the fact that when we went to business centres outside, it was not all that difficult to get a fax connection. The end result was that nearly all of us spent 90 per cent of our efforts in sending our reports across.

Only the rest 10 per cent could be spared for gathering news and analysing it for the readers. When Ministry of External Affairs personnel briefed us at the Indian High Commission about the confidence-building measures, one exasperated journalist suggested that the best CBM would be to instal a hotline from the hotel to New Delhi!

The Pakistanis one met on formal occasions like the dinner hosted by the Information Minister were charm personified. They waxed eloquent about the sentimental ties between India and Pakistan.

Mr Khalid Mahmud, a research analyst with the Institute of Regional Studies, had unusual suggestions for improving relations between the two countries. One, hold a Lata Mangeshkar show in Lahore and, two, invite an Indian delegation to the Basant festival, which continues to be organised there despite murmurs of protest from some that it is un-Islamic.

Yet another India-lover reminisced that when Mughal-e-Azam was shown on Doordarshan for the first time, those from far-off places who did not get the Indian signals booked rooms in hotels in Lahore and watched the film avidly there. Those booked in lower-end hotels even carried their own TV sets from home. The same was the case with Pakeezah. (Things are a little different now. Indian films continue to be banned but their audio and video cassettes can be obtained without much difficulty everywhere.)

In reply to these kind words, when we pointed out that the Indian delegations would love to come across provided there were not so many visa and other hassles, the geniality changed into aggression. The argument given was that these things were done on a reciprocal basis and "since India is not liberal in allowing people in, we too are not". Our protestations that India had been more than liberal and issued visas to many times more people than Pakistan did were drowned out in counter-arguments. Similarly, when we talked to senior officials about the unnecessary surveillance, nobody owned it up, let alone saying anything about easing it. Everybody argued that on the contrary, it is they who were subjected to harassment and surveillance when they went to India. That is the problem with the India-Pakistan relations today. They are caught in the chicken-or-egg rut.

One got the feeling that Pakistanis were more voluble in presenting their case, howsoever tenuous. The politeness of the visiting Indians was taken as some kind of admission of guilt. Misconceived notions about the Kashmir situation were so deep-rooted that it would be a miracle if these could be removed.

Apparently, PTV’s nightly Kashmir "talk" show has had the desired impact. And, then, there are other "dependable" sources of information. You see, Indian newspapers, magazines and even TV channels enjoy much more freedom than those of Pakistan. Naturally, these do not fight shy of criticising the government on various issues. "Juicy bits" are duly picked up, shorn of their context and then magnified hundreds of times. Ask a common Pakistani — without disclosing your identity — about the situation in the neighbouring country and he would tell you how "ruthless" and "tyrannical" the successive "Bharati" governments have been. The various problems of India highlighted by the media leave him with the impression that the country is almost over the precipice. Try to correct him after telling him that you have first-hand knowledge and he would be surprised. "But your own paper (meaning some newspaper from India) itself said so," he would protest.

But there are many who sincerely want the relations to become normal. Among them is Niqhat Abassi, one of the prominent social workers of Islamabad, who has done wonderful work towards introducing family planning in this rabidly rigid society. Hers is a remarkable background. She herself belongs to a prominent family in Gorakhpur district and was married in Pakistan in 1963 to the son of her father’s sister.

While Niqhat came to Pakistan as a young bride, Talat Aziz, her sister 10 years younger than her, remained in India. When her son Faisal became of marriageable age, the girl she chose was Saman, the daughter of her sister in India. The wedding was solemnised in 1994. In fact, Talat Aziz was visiting her sister and daughter when we were there. The two sisters were unanimous that but for the propaganda unleashed by politicians and religious leaders on the two sides for their narrow ends, India and Pakistan could still develop good relations. How one wishes their words come true, although there is no dearth of others who are hell-bent on seeing that the bonds of blood, common history and neighbourhood remain soured forever.

People like Niqhat and Talat feel saddened and amused when some view their sympathies for the neighbouring country with suspicion. Their lives in a way symbolise the relationship between the two countries.

Like brothers who go in for the partition of ancestral property, India and Pakistan could have lived together happily ever after. But the violence that marked the separation and the later saga of revenge ensured that seeds of enmity found a fertile ground in the hearts of both. The border that should have been just an imaginary line became a Lakshman Rekha, with there being no agreement even on its location. What flows across it today is the blood of each other.

Saman was blessed with a son earlier this month. May Allah give the couple a long and prosperous life. One day, he will become a proud Pakistani. Does he have to become a rabid India-hater?.