Silent warriors of Pakistan

In the news is the re-recording of the National Anthem of Pakistan which is being disseminated with great fervour. When I told my mother, she said, “I hope they know what the words stand for. Are they following the true meaning?”

Her questions led me to ponder on how we celebrate Independence Day; by shouting ‘Pakistan Zindabad!!’, waving the flag from houses, cars and motor bikes, wearing green and white ‘Independence Day’ kurtas and scarves, donning emerald face paint with the crescent moon, blaring patriotic songs from cars, instagramming azaadi pics and loving the azaadi discounts at malls.

We profess great love for our country, but when we encounter obstacles we are the first ones to try to get out of Pakistan to lead a better life. But amongst our ancestors who lived through Partition, the spirit is brave and feisty. They refuse to leave because they know what sacrifices they gave for Pakistan.

On Pakistan’s 75^th Independence Day, I am sharing the story of my father whose life was defined by Partition. My father’s family migrated from Azamgarh, U.P in 1947 to the cherished land of Pakistan. He was 15 years old and he came to the new country along with his parents, siblings and cousins. He left behind his married older sisters whose husbands worked for the Indian government and did not want to leave.

Abba never saw his sisters again. Once I came upon my father in tears while reading a letter from India informing him of the death of his sister.

My grandfather worked for Indian Railways and since he was a member of the Pakistan Muslim League, he had unfurled a Pakistani flag at a political rally in Azamgarh (before Partition) which was considered to be an act of treason. He suffered the consequences at work gladly and as soon as Pakistan became a reality, he decided to leave immediately.

Although my grandfather was confident of getting his post in Pakistan Railways as he had been assured, it did not happen. He filled up files with constant applications to the government, but he was unable to get a job. But he refused to lose hope in his country. After he passed away, my father found file upon file of unanswered applications.

On my father’s teenage shoulders then lay the onus of supporting his family. Unlike the post Partition generations who tend to whine about almost everything in life, my father never spoke of Partition and his immense struggle. He gave up the comforts of home for an alien land where he and his family were crowded into two tiny rooms in North Karachi. But his biggest test was yet to come.

The only time Abba told me in detail about his mother was when he was hospitalised for an angina attack. He lost his mother within a year of migration, because he did not have the money to get her medicines for her illness.

As he sat next to her while she lay deathly ill, she said, “Mein tumhara sehra lay kar aayi hoon, meri khawahish hai kay tumhe dulha bana dekhoon. Aik dafa pehan kar dekha do humain.” (I have got your wedding turban with me, I want to see you as a bridegroom. Wear it for me so I can see you in it.) Embarrassed, my teenage father demurred.

My middle aged father lay in bed in the cardiac ward and said wistfully to me, “Now I think why did I not wear it for her? It would have made her so happy.”

Seeing my grandfather struggle to find a job, Abba realised early on that if there was a profession in Pakistan which relied solely on merit, it was the bureaucracy. So he set his sights on the CSS exam, studying by night and working as a peon by day. He came tenth in Pakistan, chose District Management Group (DMG) and never looked back as he climbed the ladder of success.

Sadly, Abba could never visit his family in Gorakhpur and Azamgarh, because he was a CSS officer and his visit to India would have caused problems for them. So he never saw them again.

In later years, Abba would often complain about corruption, lack of critical thinking, injustice, the waste of resources, the lies, the skewed priorities, the bribes. At such times when he was disheartened, I wondered whether he regretted coming to Pakistan because it was not turning out as he had expected. I would ask him: “Abba, do you regret coming to Pakistan in 1947?”

He would look at me in surprise and say, “Never!”

“But you lost so much.. don’t you have any regrets?”

“Bilkul naheen!” (Absolutely not!)

I asked him the same question over time and his answer was always the same.

Despite the heartbreak and difficulties, Abba loved Pakistan dearly and always remained hopeful. He said that we are blessed to have our own country. “Jaisa bhi hai, apna hay. No matter how it is, it is ours. You children don’t realise how blessed you are. Cherish your freedom.”

Once I asked him, “Abba, kuch log kehtain hain Pakistan ko bannay ki kiya zaroorat thi? Saath rehtay tau behtar hota. Aap kiya samajhtain hain?” (There is a debate on whether Pakistan should have been made. Should we have lived together in India?)

Abba did not take even a second to reply. “Ghalat kehtain hain. Hum yahaan ziyada khush hain.” (They are wrong. We are far happier here).

When I see what is happening in India to Muslims, I realise how right my father was. As comedian Vir Das said, “I come from an India where we have the largest working population under 30 on the planet, but still listen to 75 year old leaders with 150 year old ideas.”

The prescient words of Quaid e Azam echo in my mind: he said in 1943, “when you (the Congress) talk of democracy, you mean Hindu Raj, to dominate over the Muslims, a totally different nation, different in culture, different in everything. You yourself are working for Hindu nationalism and Hindu Raj.. have your Hindustan if you can.. But I am not going, as long as there is life left in a single Mussalman, to have this Hindu Raj.’’

The massacres that happened during Partition were horrendous and happened on both sides. This is what happens when you demonise a community. Similar to what happened in Rwanda.

Despite the sacrifices that Abba and his generation made, their love for Pakistan never dimmed. Even when their ideals were not realised, they did not become bitter. Abba worked tirelessly his whole life and that was something he shared with the Partition generation who had a very strong work ethic. He always felt that Pakistan would prosper, because it had so much going for it.

Our ancestors gave up a lot to build up Pakistan against staggering odds. It should be our legacy now to consolidate the bricks they laid. Instead of critiquing constantly, we should look to the future.

In memory of all those silent warriors like Abba who sacrificed so much during Partition. May their hard work not have been in vain and may we carry their legacy of courage, truth, hard work, honour, unity and empathy forward.

Pakistan Zindabad. Pakistan Paindabad.

The writer is Oped Editor, Bol News