In the arena

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                                                    In the arena

                                                 The family’s migration to Pakistan .

I was born on June 12 ,1944 in a small place named Banur in East Punjab near Patiala , the capital of Patiala state , a Sikh state . According to the elders of the family , my forefathers came from Mecca to India via Kabul and settled in Patiala city . Earlier they were tutors of the royal family in Kabul . My great grandfather was a physician and my grandfather was an engineer . On my mother side , both my maternal great grandfather and grandfather were hakims ( indigenous doctors) .

The family was very well off . Again according to my parents and other sources in the family , my grandfather had a car and a telephone at home . He had four servants , one whom served various family members  in Pakistan and died in the 1980s at the house of my aunt ( father’s sister) in Karachi .

My grandfather died in 1926 . According to my parents and family sources , he was a very generous man giving stipends to widows , orphans and youth to complete their education . With his death , the family’s fortunes took a dip .

My father , after completing his education , travelled from part of India to another part for search of a job . He changed an assortment of jobs . He  was even  employed as a radio operator . Later , he joined the Indian Royal Air Force .Those were the period of a severe recession and good jobs were not easily available for Muslims . Finally he ended up in New Delhi where he got a permanent job in the General Headquarters . Alas the local Pakistan and particularly the present  generations , fail to appreciate the hardships the Muslims in united India in searching for any job leave alone a decent job . And above  all the discrimination from the English rulers .

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I have a foggiest idea of the Partition of the Sub Continent . My parents and elderly relations , uncles , aunts , now dead , are my primary sources once my father left the house to take a bath because the water connection in our house was disconnected or poisoned . My mother and I were alone . A mob shouting “Jai Hind” stormed the house . My mother picked me up and the Holy Quran and began  reciting it . Suddenly the mob dispersed . When father came home , she narrated the event and begged him to go to another place . Fortunately the place they chose was a Muslim Mohalla which was relatively safer because of Muslim majority  .

The moment I stepped into the house , I asked my late mother if we have stepped on the aircraft because I heard my father telling her that he planned to go to Pakistan that way . However they came by train .When the food came , I ‘demanded’  a spoon .

My father opted to go to Pakistan . So did my entire family . The scenes have been described in many history books as appalling . However by way of illustration , I recount an event . Two trains started together from Delhi Railway Station . Our train managed to reach Lahore after stopping regularly for checking for arms . After a  three day stay in a camp , we were moved to Rawalpindi which became our home from 1947 to 2003 . The other train was derailed outside Delhi . The bogey in which my in laws sat became the target . A daughter was lost in this mishap .

Thus  Pakistan became  the only home I have known  in my life . I have never looked back  .  My family and I found love here : within the family , in  our friends’ homes , in schools , colleges or universities  , in hospitals . Pakistan remains my cherished land . Pakistan always  remains in my prayers . I wish the best for it .The first generation of our family lived here and are buried here . My father had such a love for his new homeland that he brooked no nonsense anyone talking against it .

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In 1949 , I was admitted to the Presentation Convent High School , Rawalpindi . A ramshackle school bus was also engaged . Gradually I had friends studying in the class and with those who travelled by the bus . The School also bought a new bus . Everyone wished to travel on it. Among the friends I made were the four children  of the deceased Mr. and Mrs. A.K. Nyazee , Farzana Baji , The late Gul , Imran and Haroon  , Arshad Nasar and his younger brother , Shahid , Pervez Rehman , Pervez Asghar Mian and his older brother , Saleem .    

Pakistan and I are growing older almost simultaneously . Together we have weathered many a storm . The country started from a scratch . I have seen  it develop  into a nuclear power for its deterrence  .  While I will return to dust sooner or later  , my earnest prayers with the country . In my adopted country , I can roam freely in any direction   not bothered about caste system or apartheid . In India , for instance , the old habits die hard for discriminating for being a Muslim regardless of Indian claims of being ‘secular ‘ .Now that , Modi is in power with the support of BJP-RSS combine , India is showing a different mind set i.e. a Hindu mind set  .

Any country’s Independence is a bliss . My family and I acquired education from the finest educational institutions of the country . We are allowed to compete wherever competition is required . Pakistan has its passports . The country is free . It has its up and downs . But the people are assured that Pakistan is safe .

Mahfooz ur Rahman

Islamabad

March 17, 2015