“It is unsafe to visit India at this time,” was the advice I received from all and sundry when I told my friends and colleagues about my acceptance of an invitation extended by writer and scholar, Sudheendra Kulkarni, to address the members and other invitees of the reputed NGO, Observer Research Foundation (ORF), in August.

Kulkarni is the chairperson of the Mumbai branch, which invites experts in their field from time to time to take the rostrum. The subject allotted to me — strengthening cultural bonds for harnessing peace — has been close to my heart. I had found many people sharing my views when I spoke on the theme at Boston, Delhi and Karachi and here was a chance to express my feelings in my native city.

“Remember, you were stranded in the same city for three months during the 1965 war. The pre-war signs are the same. They are exchanging fire at the LoC. Just three days ago hoodlums destroyed Pakistani paintings on display at an art gallery in Ahmedabad,” said one well-wisher.

On the other hand, there were two friends who maintained that this was the most opportune moment to raise a voice of sanity. “If you back out it would mean playing in the hands of the extremists on both sides,” was the advice that I followed even though at that time it seemed I was taking a risk.

It didn’t take me long after landing in Mumbai to realise that the fears were unfounded. People behaved normally when I told them that I was from Pakistan. The one question that the common people, including the staff members of the rest house where I was put up, and Sayeed, the driver, asked me, was about the prices of essential items such as vegetables and cooking oil in Karachi. Not surprisingly, this was also the question I had to answer about Mumbai when I returned home.

Flags of Pakistan and India fluttered, side by side, on the fifth floor of NMK House, where my talk was scheduled. On the walls of the hall were displayed pictures of Pakistanis who commanded respect in both countries. The three persons I can recall were poets Iqbal and Faiz and singer Mehdi Hasan.

Sudheendra, who was once an advisor to former prime minister Vajpayee and had written the speech of Advani which declared that Mr Jinnah was a secular person, is a friend of Pakistan and Pakistanis. He was gracious in his praise of the keynote speaker of the evening. Poet and film maker Gulzar and the president of Kala Sangam, Bobby Sethi, also aired their views highlighting the cultural bond between the two countries.

Gulzar called Pakistan his vatan (home) and India his mulk (country). His birth place Dina is on our side of the Punjab. “Dono jaghe mehmano ko khila khila kar maartay hain,” (In both countries the guests are forced to eat) the Oscar award winner declared with a smile.

My opening remarks set the tone of the evening. I recalled that way back in the late 60s, when India and Pakistan were losing their supremacy in hockey, I asked captain Ajitpal Singh of the visiting team if he enjoyed playing against the Pakistanis? “Very much so. They play clean hockey like us and don’t indulge in body play like the goras do,” pat came the reply.

“Why then do the players of our two countries raise their hockey sticks threateningly during the course of the game?” I queried.

“There is one big problem. In the heat of the moment, one can’t help using swear words which, as you know, are common to us both. The goras don’t understand our colourful language … But once the game is over our players fraternise with each other,” said the Sardarji. The anecdote evoked peals of laughter, not only in Mumbai but also in Pune where my host was the local chapter of the Pakistan-India Forum for Peace and Democracy.

“Sporting encounters evokes rivalry but music strengthens the bonds. When Lata Mangeshkar croons Bekus pe karam keejye Sarkar-i-Madina the heart of even a hardened anti-Indian melts. Likewise if an Indian gets to listen to Noor Jehan’s hit of the 70s Man mandir ke devta he would be moved by the depth of feelings that the late singer imparted to the devotional ditty,” I maintained.

I felt quite at home when I saw “Wellcome” painted on the front door of a restaurant as I did when a member of the audience asked an irrelevant question: “Where does the terrorist Dawood Ibrahim live in Karachi?” Some people rebuked the questioner but I preferred tackling him head on. “I am not the right person to answer this question because I don’t even know my next-door neighbours.”

While on questions, I think the cutest came from a girl in her early teens: “Who is more popular in Pakistan, Shahrukh Khan or Salman Khan?” “We have not had a popularity poll,” I retorted but the very young lady persisted “Who is your favourite?” “Madhuri Dixit,” I said, the answer amusing the audience.

This was at the 21-acre campus owned by a Muslim waqf, which runs a school and college for boys and girls and another school and college exclusively for girls. KG classes were, of course, common and so were professional institutes. Outstation boys and girls had hostels on the campus.

My hostess in Pune, Saaz Agarwal, also spoke on the occasion. She had attended the Karachi Literature Festival early this year when her book Sindh: Stories from a Lost Homeland was launched. She recalled the ‘memorable trip’ to the province from where her ancestors had moved to India. The trip was a homecoming for her and her family members.

“We have nothing against your country or your countrymen, it is the political leaders and TV channels who try to create misunderstandings,” was the common refrain, in not just Mumbai and Pune — a city I was visiting after 37 years — but also on board the Deccan Express. I assured them that our people had no ill-feelings against them or their country either.

“You are simply wasting your time. The arms dealers and those with vested interests in the conflict will never let us come closer,” said an elderly fellow passenger. A few minutes later she showed me the coverage of the ORF function in the highly circulated Times of India.

As the train entered the Pune station, she flashed a warm smile and said, “I wish you the best of luck in your mission. Keep it up.