And so there is cause for great celebration! India and Pakistan are resuscitating the near collapse in relations. The Wagha border in Lahore has become the latest haunt of reunion for many.
Indian celebrities arriving for the cricket season have given an attack of hysteria to our glamour impoverished people. And the game of cricket itself has become a strong axis of friendship by reaching people in a way that should put politics to shame.
Everybody is happy. Everybody is rejoicing. Everybody, except Fatima Bibi: an Indian national serving a jail term well past her sentence at the Kot Lakhpat Jail, in Lahore.
She was not booked for espionage neither was she convicted of drugs trafficking. She was arrested and sentenced for one year under the 14 Foreigners Act, which meant that Fatima had illegally entered the Pakistani soil. Fatima has already served her sentence of one year and an extended term of four for her crime of 'great scale'.
But Fatima is lost somewhere in time. She does not realize how long she has been holed up in jail. All she remembers is that it has been very long - far too long to calculate time.
Behind the thick walls of the Kot Lakhpat Jail, she cannot see the easy cross-border flow of Indians and Pakistanis. Her insular world does not let in the sound of the cheering cricket crowds.
Fatima has no idea of the changed political atmosphere, which has allowed the Indian cricket team to play here after an interval of nearly 14 years. For her, the people-to-people contact is her daily communication with the other inmates. It matters not that trade will soon begin between her country and Pakistan.
She is a woman living in an abyss from where her voice remains unheard. Her sobs are drowned in the political rapprochement celebrations where each country is trying to outdo the other in cramming its container of 'confidence building measures'.
But, none of them are ready to take that crucial step for Fatima which could mean the difference between living and dying a painful death. Perhaps, the misery of one woman is far too less a price to pay for political heroism and a slick victory at the hustings.
Each night Fatima cries herself to sleep. And each night she has a recurring dream that her three daughters are calling her back to Mumbai. "She has related this dream to me several times.
Everybody at the jail feels for her, wants her to go back," says Rehana Yasmin, in charge of the woman's ward. "Please do something for her! Tell her embassy to take her back otherwise she won't survive for too long," presses Rehana.
Fatima is a shy and quiet woman. Unlike the other prisoners she keeps mostly to herself. It is only with Rehana Yasmin that she gives in to her emotions. "She's more like a mother to me than a prisoner. I'm the only one with whom she talks freely," says the female ward's in charge.
When Fatima is brought for the interview to a small white-washed, cemented cubicle, serving as a special area for visits, her eyes instantly light up. "Am I going back to Mumbai?" is her first question. But just as soon she realizes that the call to leave her cell is not for her release. The light is gone from the eyes, leaving in its place a blank, distant look.
Fatima's life was not always an account of tragedy. She lived a happy life with her husband, Abdulla, and three daughters at Worli Nakha, Mumbai, before he was shot in the 1992 Hindu-Muslim riots.
She had to sell her house to support herself and her daughters, shifting to her sister's house in the same area. Fatima's sister, Jameela and her husband, who was an imam at a local mosque, were already raising their huge family of seven and could not bear the additional burden. Jameela and her husband advised Fatima to spend the money from the house in finding work as domestic help in Dubai, while they looked after her three daughters.
Fatima went there, found work and got married to Ramzan, a widower working as a salesman at a cloth shop. Ramzan and his mother encouraged Fatima not to leave work after marriage, making her believe that her monthly earnings were being sent to her family in Mumbai. They were not!
A few months into the marriage were enough for Fatima to find out what was happening. She started pleading with her husband to send her back to India. That was when the beatings and the physical abuse started.
"My mother-in-law and husband would both hit me whenever I asked to go back. In one of the fights, she burnt my hands and face with a burning rod," says Fatima. Her scorched chin and left hand still bear the marks.
In the middle of the story, Fatima falters. "My memory has gone bad. I don't remember names and places. I don't even remember the place I lived at in Worli. All I know is that there was a dargah nearby," apologises Fatima, brushing aside a lone tear escaping from her eye.
With shoulders hunched, she goes away into that world of oblivion. Cupping her head with both her hands, Fatima shakes her head several times to recall the depressing events leading to her imprisonment.
Her story is completed by Rehana Yasmin who explains that her husband and mother-in-law finally bought a ticket for Pakistan. "She thought that she was being sent home to India."
Fatima never reached home. Instead, she landed at the airport in Islamabad where she was immediately booked under the Foreigners Act. An FIR (no: 16/99) dated July 21, 1999 was registered against her and she was sent to the Rawalpindi Central Jail. She was sentenced to one year imprisonment and a fine of Rs 100. A year later, Fatima was shifted to the Women's Jail, in Multan, and on Feb 2, 2001, was brought to the Kot Lakhpat Jail, Lahore.
Jail Assistant Superintendent Noor Hasan Baghaila said that theoretically Fatima's jail term is long over. "Through the Punjab government's special branch, her case is now with the interior ministry and will be disposed of by the Federal Review Board. The FRB consists of three justices of the Supreme Court. Now, it is up to the FRB to review her case," explains he.
Rehana Yasmin hopes the case is reviewed before it is too late for Fatima. "She is epileptic and near madness. Of late her fits are becoming frequent. We're giving her medication, but that's not the only thing she needs. She needs to go back to her children," says a concerned Rehana.
Fatima gets up to leave the room. The heavy double iron-doors leading to her cell are opened and she disappears from sight. Should she hope for that much-cherished, much-fought for right - the right to freedom? After the trumpets have died, will her government make an effort to wipe her tears?