Why We Need More Music & Friendships Across The Borders

Writer, musician and activist Sakuntala Narsimhan shared experience about her visit to Pakistan which is no less than a wave of emotions and makes us realise we are no different but one. 

I was walking in the heart of Karachi, looking for an address, when I suddenly realized that the tea shop owner whom I had asked for directions, was following me. A few steps on, the boy from the kabadi shop next to the tea stall joined him, and soon a large crowd was following me, whispering among themselves – I could catch the words “India sey (from India)”.

I didn’t feel threatened for even a moment. The moment the tea shop owner heard that I was looking for an address in that locality, he enthusiastically offered to escort me to that address. One of my friends had told me when she heard I was going to Karachi for a conference, that her father, a railway official, had been posted at Karachi before independence; she also gave me the address of the building they had lived in, and that was the place I was trying to trace so that I could take a picture of it back to her in Bengaluru. Perhaps the man misunderstood; he thought I had lived in Karachi as a child and was looking for the building my family had lived in.

There I was, a woman with a bindi, obviously from India, being followed by a large and excited crowd. They took me to the address, I took pictures; the entire crowd burst out clapping. As I prepared to return to my hotel, the tea shop man said, “Apa (sister), please have some tea before you go – badhiya chai, my stall is famous for chai..” Others wanted to have a picture taken with me. Never for a moment did I feel hostility. I was like a “long lost” sister they were thrilled to meet.

This was the kind of reception I got, during all of three visits to Pakistan (Islamabad and Karachi). My favourite recollection (that I have written and talked about many times) is about visiting a sweets shop and asking for Karachi halwa (which I used to relish as a child in Delhi). The salesman asked me (the usual question) “Aap India sey?” then laughingly declared, “No, apa, I will only give you Delhi halwa”. It was exactly the same stuff, but he enjoyed calling it Delhi halwa; we call it Karachi halwa in India! “Kya farak padtha hai ? (what does it matter)

Exactly. Kay farak padtha hai? Look at the countless commonalities – we eat the same food, speak the same languages, have the same musical traditions and heritage, dress alike, love cricket, even share relatives across geo-political borders (which were, after all, drawn arbitrarily by man). Iqbal and Manto and Faiz Ahmed Faiz belong to the literary traditions on both sides. Thousand of Pakistani families have grandparents who grew up in India; thousands of Indians have close relatives on the other side (aunts, and uncles, even brothers) People-to-people, as I have seen, the ties of dosti (friendship) are strong, it is only the political hostility that mars the relations. Kashmir is a bone of contention—it is a valuable region, scenic, and a world tourist attraction for generating foreign exchange, so both countries covet it. The Hindu ruler opted for India at the time of partition, the population is largely Muslim. After 74 years of discussions, the problem has not been resolved.

I was in Berlin shortly after the infamous wall was demolished – not by the governments but by Germans fed up with the division into East and West. It was an emotional experience, beside the demolished wall. If the people of India and Pakistan declared that enough is enough and managed to persuade their governments to seek an acceptable solution, what a tremendous bonus it could be to the two neighbours ! As countries, we both face similar socio-economic problems – poverty, low literacy and health parameters. If we could link hands, we could assist each other in removing these handicaps. Both countries could benefit.

For the conference that I went to in Karachi, I produced an Indo-Pak “jugalbandi” (duet) with a Pakistani vocalist, for the inaugural session, choosing a poem with alternate lines in Bhojpuri and Persian. It went down so well that we were asked to repeat it for the closing ceremony on the last day. Our tabla accompanist was a Christian, the harmonium player was a Muslim, I was a Hindu and my vocalist-partner was a Muslim. Kya farak padtha hai? We made music together. Those who sing and play together, live in harmony, right?

Sure, there are narrow-minded bigots on both sides – as there are everywhere, in all countries and cultures – but they are a minority. The people are largely peace-loving.

We are like two cousins, with common grandparents, living in adjacent flats, but not on talking terms. But the cousins’ children love playing together and are great friends. The cousins frown on this friendship and even lock their doors sometimes, but the kids continue to be chums regardless. That is how it is between India and Pakistan. As a people, we are like those kids, fond of each other, eager for links and friendly ties and exchanges; if only the political differences could be unraveled, what could we not achieve, as neighbours!

There are a number of people-to-people friendship groups; we don’t even need visas (which are hard to get); we can in the meantime promote amity via virtual links and internet dialogues. As people, on both sides, we are not doing enough to bring democratic pressure on our leaders, to extend the hands of friendship. Time to sing more jugalbandis?

Cover image: Nazim Laghari on Unsplash