DAWN - Features; November 21, 2005
Lala Amarnath and Lahore (1911-33)
Rajender writes:
Towards the dawn of the twentieth century, British-ruled India was fragmented in many principalities, each governed according to its ruler’s whims and fancies. Kapurthala, a prominent state in northern India, was probably the only one where French influence was the most predominant. British presence was visible, too, but in token measure — that too only because of its paramount status as the ruler of the country. Thus, cricket was confined mainly to areas where the British resided or had their club cricket grounds. Most of the subjects in Kapurthala state looked upon cricket as unsuitable to their way of life and nature. This outlook, however, was to undergo a sea change and Kapurthala was to find a place in the annals of world cricket.
Amarnath was born on September 11, 1911, into a Brahmin family of a businessman father, Nanak Chand. The elders in Nanak Chand’s family frowned at his vocation — business — since he did not sustain the established tradition of spreading knowledge of the scriptures as practised by their ancestors for centuries. The family originally hailed from Punjab and its ancestors came from the lineage of Aathwanshi (group of eight families) Bharadwaj Brahmins. They were revered as Guru Devs (literary and spiritual teachers) in many villages where people came for their blessings. Much to their discomfort, the enterprising Nanak Chand soon became a leading money-lender, with quite a profitable business. With plenty of money at his disposal, he bought large tracts of farmland and got local peasants to till it. He also invested his profits intelligently in large commercial properties and rented them to the local businessmen for an extra yield.
When Amarnath was born, the joyous occasion was celebrated for days together as he was the first son born among all the family, from both his father’s and mother’s side. As was the Hindu custom, a pundit was called to draw the newborn’s horoscope and make predictions. The pundit prophesied that the child would travel around the world and rub shoulders with Maharajas all his life.
All laughed and dismissed it as the usual way of soothsayers who exaggerated the events for a better reward. The newborn was initially named Lal Chand by his father but his doting mother, Saraswati found the name quite outdated and unsuitable for her son. She renamed her son “Amarnath”, “Amar” meaning immortal and “Nath”, Lord. According to his farther Nanak Chand, Amarnath was a very protected child due to the fear of his being poisoned by his relations. His indulgent mother made sure that he was not deprived of anything. She tasted everything first before allowing her baby to eat anything which was offered. In the evenings, Amarnath was regularly taken out by his mother to the park to play with other children. On one such occasion, while he was on his way to the park, little Amarnath saw some Englishmen playing cricket and was instantly drawn towards the game. He promptly demanded a cricket bat from his mother. The loving mother searched high and low in Kapurthala but could not find a single shop that sold cricket bats. Eager to oblige her son, she hit upon a brilliant idea. She went to the local carpenter and asked him to make a small bat, which cost one paisa. When this bat was presented to Amarnath, he jumped with joy and clung on to his mother’s neck in excitement. With this prized possession, Amarnath did not lose much time in collecting a number of boys of the area and started playing cricket. It was always Amarnath who batted first, as the bat belonged to him and the others hardly got an opportunity to use the willow, as he never got out. At times, when the rubber ball was torn to shreds and Amarnath’s appetite remained unsatiated, he would ask his friends to throw pebbles, which he would hit lustily with a horizontal bat. Amarnath recalled causing quite a few injuries to the ladies and old people passing by. His boisterous brigade would create such a commotion while playing cricket that many a complaint inevitably began to reach Nanak Chand. Infuriated, he burnt Amarnath’s bat one day. It broke the young boy’s heart and he rushed to his mother for consolation.
When Nanak Chand left for work the following day, Amarnath’s mother gave her son one paisa to get a new bat made by the carpenter. This routine continued for some time till his father realised that the boy was now grown up enough to be sent to school. Amarnath was enrolled at Randhir High School in the hope that he would concentrate on his studies. This move solved two problems for Nanak Chand. First, Amarnath was spending time in school. More important, no fresh complaints reached him from the neighbours. The distance between his home and school gave Amarnath little time to play cricket with his friends. Since the sport was not played at school, he was forced to play hockey like other boys. Finding this game rough and not to his liking, he was not keen on pursuing it. Moreover, Amarnath was constantly getting hit on the knuckles causing him minor injuries and also leading to a lot of heated exchange of words.
On his way to school, Amarnath would watch the state Army doing morning drills mainly comprising running exercise. Since his heart did not lie in hockey, he started emulating the Army by running and exercising on his own. “I loved and enjoyed going for long runs very early in my youth”, he would say later in life. On Sundays, the Europeans played cricket at their club and an enthralled Amarnath watched their matches for hours on end, always dreaming of wearing the same beautiful flannel dress and solar hat. The days passed without any scolding at home or in school. In due course, Amarnath chanced upon a local club — called SSS and played organized cricket for the first time in his life.
Everything seemed to be going fine and all seemed hunky-dory when at the tender age of ten, Amarnath faced his life’s biggest heartbreak. The death of his mother caused a big vacuum in his life. Since Nanak Chand neither remarried nor took time away from his business Amarnath started to find life very lonely and hard. Finding him becoming a recluse, Amarnath’s paternal grandparents Milkey Ram and Malavi decided to take him with them to their native place — Lahore.
This move brought about an incredible change in Amarnath’s life. Apart from being strategically located, Lahore was also the centre of education and culture since the days of the great Mughals and later, as the capital of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. In the early twentieth century, Lahore was called the Paris of the East. It had wide boulevards, beautiful gardens with fountains, the ever bustling Anarkali Bazaar, the majestic fort and the cool River Ravi. Further more, there were sprawling parks in which cricket would be played and the Minto Park was especially reserved for this game. For the young lad, it was like stepping into the magical world of dreams.
Kashmir’s quiet tectonic shift
HAS the earthquake in Kashmir set off an as yet imperceptible tectonic change in the roadmap of India-Pakistan ties? I heard of this eminently welcome possibility for the first time when senior US diplomat Nick Burns visited New Delhi two weeks after the October 8 disaster struck Muzaffarabad.
It was Mr Burns or one of his close aides who mentioned the possibility of earthquake diplomacy in a private conversation. According to this view a stepped-up rapprochement was possible between India and Pakistan similar to the peace initiative that followed between Greece and Turkey after two earthquakes jolted both countries in 1999.
This was unthinkable before the calamities struck. In fact in the early 1990s the Greek foreign minister, Michalis Papakonstantinou had wanted to invite his Turkish counterpart to Athens, but unfortunately all the reception rooms in the ministry were decorated with murals depicting bloody battles between Greeks and Turks.
The past still weighs heavily on both countries. So it does with India and Pakistan. Yet, the earthquake in Turkey sparked a wave of solidarity in Greece and created a new climate in bilateral relations. This was reaffirmed in October by Turkish expression of sympathy when Athens, too, was stricken. Many observers noted that a new “earthquake diplomacy” appeared to be emerging.
A similar earthquake diplomacy appears to be under way in South Asia, but perhaps it is being deliberately kept low key. There are a variety of valid reasons for that to be so. The Pakistan establishment led by President Musharraf has lost no opportunity to stress the importance of intra-Kashmir cooperation in the relief operations, which mainly means rushing help from the Indian-administered Kashmir to Azad Kashmir.
On other occasions, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has spoken of making the borders irrelevant. Let it be said that the Indian foreign ministry was initially wary of translating the prime minister’s view into opening up the LoC for civilian crossing. But Indian foreign ministry’s Dilip Sinha and Pakistan’s point-man for India, Ibne Abbas, were guided by their political leadership to produce a positive result in Islamabad in the wee hours of October 29 in favour of opening the five points on the Line of Control.
Most of these crossing are now being used for a lot of good work. There are of course the usual complaints from civilians on both sides about the slow procedures involved in getting them across to the other side. But a new beginning of this magnitude warrants patience. Moreover the truth of these so-called tedious procedures will be tested later this week when 20 young volunteers handpicked by Mirwaiz Umar Farooq, Kashmir’s spiritual leader, begin their journey from Srinagar for the Teetwal checkpost.
Some of the young people who are raring to go on the relief mission include medical doctors. Others would include a bunch of technically endowed individuals who are needed to help set up tents and other temporary shelters in the earthquake-hit areas. The Mirwaiz says 70 such people would be sent across the LoC within the next week.
The symbolism of the effort has another facet to it. The older leaders of the Hurriyat conglomerate such as Prof Abdul Ghani Bhatt and Maulvi Abbas Ansari have opted to stay out of the relief operations, which they say are better served by the younger lot.
When the journey does begin on Saturday or early next week, and if there are no political hiccups, the crossing of the young volunteers would demonstrate the fleshing out of the ideas on Kashmir of both President Musharraf and Prime Minister Singh.
Both leaders would have also noted a new surge for peace among the younger lot of Kashmiris representing nearly all sides of the political spectrum. It could not be without a large degree of high-level approval from the Indian and Pakistani establishments that Hurriyat chief Mirwaiz Umar Farooq last week shared a platform with Omar Abdullah and Mehbuba Mufti to etch out some spanking new and instantly well-received thoughts on the resolution of the Kashmir dispute.
Omar Abdullah is a former federal minister for foreign affairs and an articulate leader in his own right of Kashmir’s pro-India National Conference group. Ms. Mufti is a popular Kashmiri leader of the state’s currently ruling pro-India coalition. Last week all three spoke in one voice. They opposed the tyranny of the militants. They slammed the tyranny of the Indian state machinery in their homeland.
And they supported urgent steps by India and Pakistan to allow divided Kashmiri families to reunite. The Mirwaiz spoke of Kashmir’s cultural kaleidoscope, thus endorsing its ethnic and religious multiplicity. In other words as far as he is concerned it would be naïve and simplistic to see Kashmir as a religious dispute.
What these young leaders were saying to their foreign and domestic audience at Delhi’s Hindustan Times conclave was being palpably felt in the faraway Kashmir Valley, the heart of the matter.
There were at least three devastating explosions — two in Srinagar and one in a border district — during my Nov 13-16 visit there. This was also the first time in many years when the situation looked potentially seriously worrying. Dozens of people were killed in the attacks, scores, including a state minister, were seriously wounded.
There could have been a wild counter-attack. But no. I was there in the company of a well-known Pakistani media figure. Not a single person, including those who are struggling to end Indian rule in Kashmir, appeared to have the slightest bit of sympathy for those who set off the blasts. In my experience of covering Kashmir for years, this was a completely new element in the equation.
Barely an hour after Wednesday’s car explosion shattered Srinagar’s biggest bank building and left the usual trail of death and injuries, we passed the spot on the way to the airport. There was not the slightest indication on the street that anything so serious had happened there just moments ago. You had to strain your eyes hard to see some of the mangled window-panes in the distance to realize the horrific impact of the blast.
It is not just Kashmiris who are putting up a brave face to the ever-present threats they face to their daily life and peace. The Indian government too seems to have decided to take a leaf from their sense of stoic equanimity. I haven’t heard anyone in the Indian establishment threatening to call off the peace talks with Pakistan or issuing any advisory to close down the just revived LoC crossings because of the seemingly unending spate of bomb blasts that kill and maim civilians. This patience would be unthinkable a year ago.
As Omar Abdullah remarked impatiently at the Hindustan Times seminar, you can’t wait for the last gun to fall silent in Kashmir before considering the peace options for the region. This time Omar Abdullah had an indulgent audience so what if they include those who disagree with him on India’s claim on Kashmir. That’s a tectonic shift.
Indian tennis star Sania Mirza is the latest target of religious zealots of the Hindu and Muslim variety. Both have objected to her dress code, which requires her to wear a skirt during a match. Ms. Mirza’s repartee at a press conference was withering: “As long as I am winning, it is irrelevant for me as it should be for others, what size of skirt I wear. I would want people to applaud the game and cheer me to win.”
jawednaqvi@gmail.com
‘Who knows how history would have unfolded...’
Ms Sidhwa comes across as a practical and earnest person, quite at peace with the world. Her rather petite figure is complimented by her unassuming personality which almost conceals her large literary standing. It is obvious that fame has not altered her ego.
Recognized as one of Pakistan’s leading disaporic writers, Bapsi Sidhwa’s four English novels are remarkable sketches of the partition and the exodus between two nations. Living in Lahore at the time, Bapsi witnessed the bloody riots that accompanied independence and her graceful rendition of these events which turned neighbours and friends into bitter enemies overnight earned her recognition and numerous awards, including the Patras Bokhri award for The Bride in 1985 and the Sitari-i-Imtiaz in 1991.
Commenting on the probability of success of the current peace initiatives, Ms Sidhwa feels that once communities get involved, then friendships develop automatically. And the realization that the business communities must interact will lead more solidly towards ending people’s sufferings brought on by the divide, specially in Kashmir. “Hardened attitudes will serve no purpose. Let the people mingle, let visas be exchanged. In fact, since the Indians have started coming over to Pakistan recently, false impressions have changed. It’s a surprise to them when they realize that Pakistanis are a warm hearted and welcoming group of people. So it’s all very positive for both countries.” As to the much debated question of the past 58 years whether partition was ‘right or wrong’, she says: “There is simply no point in rehashing the issue. But, yes, looking analytically, I do feel that there would have been many issues in an undivided India, which would inevitably have led to agitation, as the Hindu-Muslim divide had become quite marked. But then who knows how history would have unfolded.”
Bapsi Sidhwa has recently also completed a book based on Deepa Mehta’s controversial film, Water, screened recently at the Toronto film festival. Water, which is based on the lives of Hindu widows, triggered violent protests while being filmed in India five years ago after hardline Hindu protesters burned the sets, claiming the movie distorted Indian culture. Ms Sidhwa’s completion of the book was timed with the film’s release in Toronto.
The book on Lahore launched last week titled, Beloved city: Writings on Lahore is an anthology featuring prose and poetry. It was commissioned first by Penguin India and the project was later also taken on by the Oxford University Press. Having spent most of her growing up years in Lahore, it forms the geographical location of most of Ms Sidhwa’s writings. She has recently also written a play for the first time for The Huston Repertoire Theatre, based on her book, The American Brat, which portrays how modern America appears to a new arrival.
Commenting on the ‘extremist’ and ‘fundamental’ facets of Pakistan, Ms Sidhwa remarks: “Extremism is a phenomenon which has erupted almost everywhere. At least in Pakistan the fundamentalist groups are still hammered for their views. But after 9/11 things have become very difficult for peace-loving Muslims everywhere and it is definitely a fact that they are singled out particularly in the US as potential terrorists. But then Americans have always needed some national issue as a glue to make them stick together. First it was the Soviet Union and the Russians and now unfortunately it is the Muslims which have become their bogeymen.”
Born in August 1938 in Karachi, Bapsi Sidhwa migrated to Lahore in 1947. She graduated from Kinnaird College for Women in Lahore. Getting married soon after, she initially concealed her literary pursuits before going on to become a celebrated writer. A Bunting Fellowship from Harvard and a National Endowment of the Arts grant in 1986 and 1987 supported the completion of The Ice-Candy Man. She has remained Writer-in-Residence and professor of English at Mt. Holyoke College and has taught at St. Thomas University, Rice University and The University of Texas in Houston as well as at the graduate level at Columbia University, NY. — Maheen A. Rashdi