Heart of Punjab: 77 years on, border villages yet to cut umbilical cord with Pak
The electrified barbed fencing separating India and Pakistan runs along a "restricted area" that holds the ancestral lands of many Indian farmers. Although they legally own these plots, they face severe restrictions and bureaucratic hurdles imposed by the Border Security Force (BSF) to access their own land.
Ranjit Singh Dhaliwal, who owns 1.75 acres in this zone, describes his plight: despite being the rightful owner, he needs multiple permissions and an identity card that is only valid for six months to visit his property. There are times when security concerns prevent him from even seeing his land, which he affectionately calls his "Ma" (mother). This disconnect between ownership and access has sown seeds of discontent among the farming community.
The fence, constructed between 1988 and 1991 during the height of the Khalistani movement, was intended to prevent infiltration and the smuggling of arms and ammunition from Pakistan. While the world was tearing down barriers like the Berlin Wall, India and Pakistan were erecting new ones, further complicating the lives of border villagers. For those whose land now lies beyond the fence, the government's compensation for this acquired land was often below market value, adding to their resentment. While officials claim dues were paid, many, like Satnam Singh, assert that not all received their rightful compensation.
This situation has fostered a pro-Pakistan sentiment among villagers who feel betrayed by the Indian government and oppressed by the stringent rules of the BSF. Farmers from districts like Gurdaspur, Pathankot, Tarn Taran, Fazilka, Amritsar, and Ferozepur, who once shared a bond with their Pakistani counterparts, now express more kinship with Pakistan's Rangers than with their own country's forces. Historically, Indian and Pakistani peasants enjoyed warm relations. They would cross the border freely, attend each other's weddings, and share meals. This camaraderie was disrupted by the border fence and the militarization following the 1965 war, which included the laying of mines and construction of underground tunnels.
The cultural ties, however, remain strong. Farmers recall the days when borders did not restrict their friendships, and they could hunt, celebrate, and mourn together. The bond was so strong that the death of Munir Mohammad's father in Chakri village, Pakistan, plunged the entire Indian village of Gurdaspur into mourning. These memories of shared lunches, where Indians and Pakistanis exchanged food and stories, are a stark contrast to the current reality where borders have created a chasm between once-close communities.
The pro-Pakistan sentiment persists across generations, despite receiving benefits like fertiliser subsidies and interest-free loans from the Indian Government. Many villagers openly support Pakistan in sporting events and closely follow its political developments. The admiration for figures like former Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan, “who once hit sixes against Indian cricketer Bishen Singh Bedi, illustrates the emotional connection that transcends the political divide”.
Nearly eight decades after Partition, the people living in these border regions remain deeply connected, sharing a language, culture, and music that defies the physical and political barriers erected between them. As Salman Rushdie once said: "Our lives, our stories, flowed into one another's, were no longer our own, individual and discrete." For these villagers, borders may separate lands, but they cannot divide the shared heritage and bonds that unite them.
