'Will you through you, help be the seed that is sown to bridge the superficial distinction that divides communities in Us and Them?' I wrote this statement 13 years back in a letter addressed to my niece in the year of her birth, who is an Indian because of her mother, a Pakistani because of her father, and a Canadian because of her place of birth.
13 years onward, the world has come closer with the use of high speed gadgets and increased travel. I ask to myself, has more information and connectivity brought Indians and Pakistanis closer, or has that further helped in garnering abridged facts that sustain divisions?
Certainly the world of Us and Them is not behind us, in fact it has only perpetuated further as we see a genocide unfolding in front of our eyes. Is there something for us to learn as Pakistani's and Indian's from what we see can happen, when we hug narratives that were built to protect us actually destroy us?
I was in India when I wrote the letter to my niece. The first Pakistani student to study at the Tata Institute of Social Sciences in Mumbai. Identities are both rigid as a rock and fluid as water, I reckoned. Some of my peers confused me as a resident of Ranchi, when I said Karachi - only because the embedded narrative they withheld made it almost inconceivable for someone to travel mere 883 Km to study. And then when the word Karachi was repeated, the glass broke! I call it a glass because the stereotypes were so elevated but they had no weight to hold them. I received emphatic hugs from so many of my peers, followed by questions they didn't seek a response to: 'Oh, you look so similar. Oh, how come you speak Hindi! (to which I reciprocated - may be you are speaking Urdu :)), etc etc'. While the solid part of my identity was a constant reminder by the State - I was frequently asked to report to the local police station - on an occasion also sarcastically inquired 'so do you know Ajmal Kasab, given you and him are both from Karachi?' And then came the fluid part of my identity, where often it was forgotten that I am a so-called stranger in this alien land. As a student of social work, across two years, I worked in the Cheeta Camp engaging with the youth and elderly; helped become a bridge for de-notified tribes, who in the colonial era were notified as 'born criminals', using my student identity to help them converse with the local officials in receiving identity cards; assisting probation officers in the Byculla Observation Home, commonly known as 'Bachon Ka Jail'; or curating dance workshops for the senior citizens at the Dignity Foundation. My identity as a student outweighed the Pakistani identity and helped me relate with common challenges that Pakistan and India experience at people level.
I have been curious to understand, where do narratives come from and why do we strongly associate with one or the other. Majority Pakistanis and Indians have never met each other, yet hold strong, often despicable views. In the absence of personal experience, we often uphold the views we are brought up with because those give us security and a collective identity within our community. There is no secret that the consent of Indians and Pakistanis to despise each other has been consciously manufactured by both States and through the medium of media, education and political practice. One can dwell upon volumes of reasons why this has happened and how each State is justified or helpless in their position. However the end result continues to create further unrest and disharmony, and fails to challenge the premise that we, because of our integrated connection over a millennia are more similar than different. And as many Pakistanis and Indians continue to experience, like myself, when we meet and engage in a space of relative trust, the glass of misunderstanding and distrust falls into pieces rather instantly. So the question for the future is, how do we create more and more spaces of dialogue and engagement for more and more Indians and Pakistanis.
The hope lies in nature and in our choice in responding to the change! Fortunately who is a Pakistani and who is an Indian is also a fluid identity. We are mortal beings, and as we grow older our association with the role we play and the hurt we have experienced because of certain events in the past, changes in its intensity. The horrors of partition do not mean the same to one who lived through it, to the youth, and to those who will be born, not by choice, as a Pakistani or an Indian. This is the same reason why the institution of state tries to ensure that certain events and views are perpetually reinforced and imprinted in the minds of every subject regardless of their age and exposure. Thus the element of choice becomes absolutely critical - the hate and distrust we have garnered between India and Pakistan over the past 77 years - whether we would like to imprint this into an institutional memory as a recurrent phenomenon, or consciously curate enabling conditions socially, economically and politically to break the glass of distrust, and build the flower of embracing each others strengths and our collective fate as neighbours.
Three realities coincide in helping us make a wise choice. First, the institution of state no more holds a monopoly over the means through which narrative is developed and communicated. Youth today, both in India and Pakistan are developing a relationship with cross-culture arts, music, drama and films in an unprecedented way. While social media has also become a place where existing stereotypes are sustained and misinformation is spread, there is an opportunity to use media as an alternate means of education, engagement and dialogue, especially among the youth to increase familiarity. As an educator working with school networks both in India and Pakistan, I have reckoned the enormous wealth of untapped experience and wisdom we hold collectively to address the social challenges in front of us. I believe similarity of our context along with open exchange of dialogue across individuals and communities within Pakistan and India is a great opportunity to rebuild constructive relationship between the two countries.
Second, the environment is crying out the reality that borders are a human construct. Our interdependence is not a choice but a necessity both for our existence and for those who will make this land their home in the future. Growing suffocation in Delhi and Lahore because of air pollution is only one of the examples we are to face during our destined future together, and our socio-political animosity and trade barriers continue to worsen the situation at hand. It is not the lack of technical solutions that poses a limitation here - the challenge at hand is purely adaptive and requires both strengthened will and non-partisan collaboration.
Third, in its current form of nation-states, both Pakistan and India are almost as old as an individual's life. However the geography that makes this land, and the people and culture that resonates the vibrant character the two countries uphold is much older and richer. As a result, it wouldn't be incorrect to say that we who hold the power and influence in this land are bestowed with both a gift and a responsibility. Are we, to the best of our capacity, playing our role in ensuring this gift is enjoyed by generations to come? History has repeatedly demonstrated that when ones neighbourhood is not at peace, precious limited resources are wasted and the human lives we wow to protect and nourish fall into dismay.
Many children to come, may not have the opportunity to be both an Indian and Pakistani like my niece, and all of them would need a narrative of trust and friendship for Pakistan and India to walk together and strengthen both individually and collectively.
