A daughter's emotional cross-border journey
It is unbearable to even imagine being forced to leave your hometown or risk being slaughtered simply because you belong to a different religion. But I did not find any bitterness in Bani Singh's eyes for Lahore or my country, Pakistan.
The Wagah-Attari border crossing between Pakistan and India is a line that can evoke intense emotions.
At sunset, large crowds on either side gather for the flag-lowering ceremony and raise nationalistic slogans. It is also a place where saying goodbye is difficult. You never know if the person crossing that line to leave will ever return.
When a loved one leaves your sight, the world can appear hollow and empty, with just the hope and longing to see each other again soon. For me, that loved one was the Indian filmmaker Bani Singh last year.
We had met for the first time just days earlier, when Bani Singh was among the Indian writers and artists who crossed over into Pakistan for the Eighth International Faiz Festival in Lahore last February.
Bani had been invited to show her moving documentary film Taangh (the Longing). I had seen the film before, thanks to a virtual screening hosted by Delhi-based journalist Aekta Kapoor for the Southasia Peace Action Network in November 2022.
Shattering of a peaceful co-existence
Taangh features the story of three friends in Lahore, 1947 – Keshav Dutt, Sahibzada Shahrukh, and Grahnandan Singh, also known as Nandy. They were Ravians, students of Government College (now University), and members of the college field hockey team. The college student magazine, The Ravi, is named after the Ravi River that flows through Lahore.
The brutal clashes between followers of different religions, Hindu, Muslim and Sikh shattered their peaceful existence. Amidst the violence, there were also those who saved lives, offering people shelter in their homes or helping them to flee. One of them was Shahrukh who helped his Sikh friend Nandy escape to India.
When Bani Singh visited Government College Lahore ten years ago, filming for Taangh and to share her father's legacy, she received an enthusiastic welcome from the hockey team. They awarded a silver cup to Nandy Singh which she received on his behalf.
The film had moved me to tears, and I later wrote about it for Sapan News. I wrote about how I felt that Bani Singh saw Lahore as if through a lover's eyes, and wished I had known she was in my city, Lahore, so I could have helped her.
Emotional affinity to Lahore
Bani Singh has a strong emotional affinity to Lahore. It was her father's city and homeland until the riots of 1947 forced his family to evacuate, leaving behind their full existence here, including their family's works .
It is unbearable to even imagine being forced to leave your hometown or risk being slaughtered simply because you belong to a different religion. But I did not find any bitterness in Bani Singh's eyes for Lahore or my country, Pakistan. When we met, what I saw was grief and pain impossible to express in words.
She told me that Nandy Singh would cover his head reverentially when he remembered his Lahore, like a religious pilgrim visiting holy places. Even after he was unable to speak due to a cardiac stroke, he would still cover his head when anyone mentioned Lahore.
Bani Singh had a six-day visa for Lahore and wanted to immerse herself in the city's many historical sites. I was happy to take her wherever she wanted to go, and to host her after her one-day hotel stay arranged by the Faiz Foundation.
The day she arrived, she wanted to go to the Old City of Lahore without wasting a minute. Her itinerary included the Shahi Mohalla, the royal neighbourhood dating back to Mughal times, and the nearby Minar-e-Pakistan, a monument built where the Lahore Resolution was passed. Then of course, the Badshahi Mosque and Shahi Qila, or royal fort, the city’s most historical places.
On this, her second visit to the city, she was capturing the images and experiences in her heart and keeping them there, rather than on film.
She wished to experience a qawwali devotional music, at the shrine of the Sufi poet Mian Mir, revered for his efforts to promote interfaith harmony. The Muslim Mian Mir and the Guru Arjan Dev, the fifth Sikh Guru, maintained a close relationship despite their distinct religious backgrounds.
The other Indian delegates at the Faiz Festival joined us for this excursion on their second day. That evening was dedicated to the Faiz Festival, where her film was screened.
The film, particularly its depiction of Lahore, impacted viewers deeply. There was a standing ovation and prolonged applause followed by a conversation with the noted artist and educationist Salima Hashmi and Dr. Tahir Kamran, a retired historian from Government College Lahore. The packed hall included luminaries like Khawar Mumtaz, the women's rights activist and author, a Sapan founder member and advisor like Salima Hashmi.
A pilgrimage to ancestral home
It was important for Bani Singh to visit her father's old home, built long before Partition near the densely populated Anarkali Bazaar. The double-storey house still stands, with its lovely balcony, on a street connected to Lodge Road, just yards from the residence of the famed philanthropist Sir Ganga Ram, which was later demolished.
The family and neighbours greeted Bani warmly and took her around the entire house, informing her of the changes they had made over the years. There are two staircases and halls, and a large roof. The building’s classical appearance sometimes attracts student photographers from the National College of Arts, said our hosts.
On the third day we visited Nankana Sahib, to pay our respects at the gurudwara (shrine) of Guru Nanak, the revered founder of Sikhism, and then to Government College Lahore where the vice chancellor and students of the college and hockey squad had invited her. They warmly welcomed here, and presented her with a guest of honour shield.
Bani appreciated the beautifully renovated Wazir Khan Masjid and the street food and shopping at the Delhi Darwaza – the arched gateway leading to the historic road between Lahore and Delhi. She enjoyed the famed Lahori hospitality and wit, from the car parkings to the street food vendors, and the local dishes at Delhi Gate. Then there was the modern side, with its M.M Alam Road and Liberty Market.
The last day of her stay felt highly emotional. As I drove her towards the border, she was filled with a mixture of sadness at having to leave, coupled with joy and gratitude for the time she had in Lahore, and the new friends and residences that she can now call her own. It was beyond words to convey, on the one hand, returning to her own country and, on the other, leaving a place that was her ancestors' native land.
When Bani Singh left Lahore, I knew she was leaving with memories in her heart. She did not say goodbye to Lahore. Rather, she prayed that she would return, with many good wishes and warmth to her friends from the other side of the border.
“Breakfast in Lahore, lunch in Amritsar and dinner in Bangalore” she wrote on Instagram later.
(The author is a teacher, poet, and writer in Lahore, Pakistan. Views are personal. By special arrangement with Sapan)
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