[Excerpt from "The Wagah Canal" by Fikr Tauswi, from the book India Partitioned: The Other Face of Freedom. Roli Books, New Delhi, (1995)
The Wagah Canal
by Fikr Tauswi
The most interesting feature of the Wagah border were the shops set up for the organized sale of religion. A bearded Maulvi sat there with a huge pile of books, which included the Vedas, Shastras, Granthas, Geetas, and Upanishads and many more works in Hindi and Sanskrit. Sitting next to him was Sardarji who sold copies of the Quran Majid, Fiqh, Hadith and dozens of other writings in Arabic. All those books were a part of the loot which the two gentlemen had brought there to sell. Otherwise, they would have been at each otherís throats by now. But at Wagah they were selling their books peacefully, the Maulvi selling the Hindu scriptures and the Sikh works on Muslim theology. In their heart of hearts they were thinking that once all these books were sold, they would be able to sit back and live comfortably for at least a few months. If by selling religion one could have two square meals everyday, what could be better.
Next, I met the writers. All were Muslims. They had come to Wagah from the Pakistan side. Their group consisted of Sahir Ludhianvi, Ahmad Nadim Qasmi, Ahmed Rahi, Abdul Matin Arif, Ibne Insha, Barkat Ali Chowdhury and Salahuddin Akbar. We just rushed and hugged each other. The earth under our feet did not shake with this. Nor did it protest that the earth which the Hindu and Muslim writers trod was either a part of India or Pakistan. As such it should have cried out in protest against the aliens treading on its bosom. But it remained quiet. How dumb this earth was! Actually, we ourselves were totally oblivious of the religion of the soil, stones, straw and grass underneath our feet. We ought to have been more religiously aware but had we made these mute elements conscious of the greatness of their religion and their regional culture, there was every chance of them rising against us!
Anyway, we writers were not bothered about the protest or lack of it. Ours was a meeting of writers. So we poked fun at each otherís writing affectionately and enjoyed kababs, korma, rice and tea at an exclusively Muslim hotel. We almost forgot that we were sitting at a place called Wagah which divides Pakistan from India. We laughed at the folly of those thousands who wanted to forge an intimate relationship between the two dominions. Then, we informed each other about the major achievements of our respective governments so that we could convey all this information to them and thus perform the literary duties of fifth columnists. All sorts of suggestions were mooted to strengthen each otherís governments, so that they could join hands to fight boldly against the half-naked and the semi-starving masses and successfully suppress them. A couple of writers suggested they should raise a wall of tigers on one bank, and a wall of elephants on the other bank of the Wagah border so that all these people who regularly sat and devoured melons and mangoes should learn to stay put in their own homes.
Anyway, we noted these suggestions, which to us were both absurd and impracticable, and dispersed. The evening was drawing near and the military post on the border had sounds their bugles, warning people to return home. Gradually, the dividing line at Wagah emerged more clearly. We suddenly realized it was time to part, and walked to the border together. Neem trees lined one side of the Grand Trunk Road. One of these trees stood erect, bang on the border, almost as if it were a communist, otherwise it might have easily grown a little away, on either side. How boldly it stood there, as if no one could touch it! Had this been reported to the authorities of either country, the tree would have been surely felled. But why do that? Why not divide the leaves and branches equally between India and Pakistan? Why not tell the tree which of its branches and its leaves are Hindu or Muslim?
Sahir said to me: ëWhy bother about this tree? Come let us go to Lahore.í And then all the Hindu writers went over to the other side of Wagah to the enemy country.
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