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John Lennon once sang, “Imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, no religion too. Imagine all the people, Living life in peace.”
The operant word here is “imagine”. The word carries us away to a world which does not exist, is a fantasy, and is unreal. Cut to the real world closer home – to India. 57 years later, are we still living in the aftermath of the partition? The answer is a resounding “yes”.
The partition brings to mind horrifying pictures of thousands of people being herded like cattle across borders. Yesterday’s happy family man was suddenly identified as a “refugee”.
A refugee may be defined as “any uprooted homeless, involuntary migrant who has crossed a frontier and no longer possesses the protection of his former government.” Reflect on that. Thousands of Indians and Pakistanis who are today termed “refugees”, migrated to either country, probably never imagining that they would be regarded as outsiders in a country they thought was their own. They did know what they would have to face in the days to come. They did not know that this would never be home.
Kashmir – its conflict – the most glaring proof of the horrors of the partition. In the last decade, India-Pakistan tensions have spiralled. How many hundreds leave Kashmir every day for fear of being killed? How many ever find a home again? They have been reduced to the existence of an unknown citizen in an unknown land. However, the expulsion of these Kashmiris from their homeland has been ignored at the state, national and international level. Where do these people turn for help?
Bangladesh, formerly known as East Pakistan was also the result of the partition. Even today, thousands reside on the Indo-Bangladesh border, not knowing which side to call “home”. At least 63% are eligible Indian voters but are not allowed to call India their home. They are sandwiched in a no-man’s land between the two nations with none willing to take on their responsibility. They are struggling for survival amid frequent attacks by border security guards and insurgents. Their women are molested, their cattle and food are snatched away but they have no help at hand. So pitiable is the state, that people have often died because they have fallen sick after sunset and the hospital has been located on the other side of the border, the gates of which close at 6 p.m. Where do these people turn for help?
Help; to these refugees it seems like a cry in the wilderness because no one seems to hear them. Have the governments become so depraved that they no longer even possess an iota of humanity in them to understand the plight of these helpless people? Where do these people turn for help?
Imagine if you will a perfect understanding between the nations concerned. I speak as a citizen of India. I am sure there are various other nations in the same predicament. Imagine everyone proudly possessing a national identity. Imagine people not being scared to say “home”. Imagine a life without the fear of every new day.
But like I said, the word is “imagine”.
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Writer Profile
Radhika
I joined TIG only recently and I have found that it is an excellent forum for the youth to express themselves and their opinions.
I am a student of English literature and my passion for writing attracted me to this site primarily. The various issues under discussion not only help me in understanding youth worldwide but also encourage me to write.
I wish to become a journalist in the future and I believe that is vital that I am aware of all issues around the world and TIG has helped me tremendously as far as that is concerned.
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Comments
Sangeeta | Dec 18th, 2007
First of all, I'd like to say that you're a marvelous writer; I like how you tailored the piece.
I remember a year ago when I went back home, I had the opportunitty of going to the Indo-Bangladeshi border. There, a neighbour and friend that also shared Western roots with our family is helping biuld a primary school for the children of a secluded village. Now, I was raised in the outskirts of the border, in a rural village to be exact: I have seen poverty, felt poverty and have lived it all my early years. Yet, this particular village, lacking of school and any other form of proper infrastructure, redefined my view on what poverty is and the human ambition.
What often gets to me is the fact that even now, many of these citizens aren't recognized as citizens -- no recognition to the point that in one individual village, there was but one school and that one school will be the only biulding in that area that isn't out of sticks and mud.
Political, religious and ethnic differences inevitably plague India. Yet, it is overwhelming to realize how greatly these differences and actions that reinforce them are affecting our future so gravely. Our future: the children, with such great intellectual potential and strength to endure extreme adversity. Why must they go unrecognized and furthermore, what have they done?
It gets to me because with a little shift of fate and history, one of those children could have been me and I could have been one of them. Likewise, as much as I love the Beatles and love that timeless song: I leave my imagination for writing purposes. I use it as a vision to promote hope inside. A hope and a reminder that reality is merely limited to our definition of it. Commonly reality is what we touch and feel, what we see with our eyes and taste with our tounge; commonly, it is conducive with struggle and pain. Although I believe the latter may be an inevitable part of any life, the realness of society is only determined by how long and how much we choose to accept its norms.
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