The one thing my mother asks all my Pakistani friends when they come visiting is to ask them if they can gether a copy of her degree certificate. That`s all.
Dad passed away on the 16th of February, earlier this year. I am now 47, had more than 70 countries under my belt before I was 27, but this trip with my 18 year old son was going to be different, like nothing else before.
The only responsibility he left us was that we were to look after mymother. When, after his final rites, on the way back from the final release of his ashes into the rapid flowof the Neeldhara at Hardwar, I broached the subject with my mother of my visiting Pakistan soon with my son--hergrandson. She readily agreed, and in fact told me to get a move on. (Our daughter had already been toPakistan about 5 years ago)
A few years ago, a source who does not wish to be identified here, told us that my father was the oldest andtherefore senior-most surviving officer from his Baluch Regiment.
End-February, 2004
A very very dearfriend from Pakistan, currently in the US, is a fanatical fan of Javed Miandad`s. I am really, really lookingforward to meeting up with him in Pindi.I have no wish to sit and watch cricket, I just want to meet my friend in his country, for a change.
I havenot had a proper juicy meat kabab in a long, long time.
March and early-April, 2004
I take the printout, send it to my son who is by now in the final laps for his12th Board exams at faraway Lawrence School, Ooty, and make him a rash promise - after his exams are over inend March 2004, we shall drive from Lawrence/Ooty to Lawrence/Murree.
Starting around the third week of March,with enough mid-point peeling off by air by me to touch base with work in Delhi and Poona, I drive Poona toOoty solo, pick him up, and then we drive Ooty to Bangalore to Belgaum to Goa, backtrack a bit up and down theWest Coast, Mangalore, Karwar, Chiplun, Panvel, and reach Poona by early April, drive on to Bombay, from wherewe decide to fly to Delhi as we are already behind schedule.
The third Test is scheduled to start on the 13th ofApril, and it is already Friday the 9th of April. We are nowhere near getting visas ready or making bookingsfor travel or stay. Besides, I have not seen my wife for almost a month, since she has been busy travellingelsewhere too.
And summer has arrived, delightful roads have changed to shimmering tarmac in fields of whitesand. Many people, I would say around 90%, are "warning" me against going.
It is going to be impossible to get a carnet for my car, so we hope to try for a "foot crossing"visa, which means we drive Delhi to Amritsar/Attari border, leave our India car there, and pick up a Pakistanicar somehow from the Wagah/Lahore border. No sweat, I am also a motoring columnist, and there are cars lyingin Delhi that need to be exercised.
Saturday 10th through Monday 12th April, 2004
Arrive in Delhi, recce Pakistan High Commission,discuss with friends who have already been to Pakistan on a "cricket visa", get inputs from friends in themedia: the best way seems to be the "foot crossing" visa. Airline and bus is choc-a-bloc full, soldout. Train is terrible, miserable.
Forms properly filled,double checked, and the obnoxious surly man at the visa counter having a really bad hair day forciblyissues rail entry/exit visas to everybody. No foot-visa. No argument, no discussion. The reason, as much as I cantell, is because he is a sarkari babu and is used to Indians of a different sort--the absolutely poor variety(96%) who bow and cringe and beg and beseech for visas, and the absolutely rich and powerful (4%) whose visaforms come straight from inside anyway. So, now, who are these democratic, vocal and easily rousedmiddle-class Indians making a fuss outside his little puddle, saying "tum" instead of "huzoor",talking loudly, arguing? Dikhao salon ko, go by rail.
Petty babus are the same everywhere. Why shouldthose in the Pakistani High Commission at Delhi be different?
By evening, our Pakistan cricket visas (No Police Reporting, hurrah!) dated the 12th of April, valid forentry within 3 days from date of issue, and further valid for 8 days in Pakistan, are issued. Mine gives me alloptions (air/road/rail/foot) but Raghuveer`s visa is marked "rail only".
Tuesday 13th April, 2004
The next train for Attari/Wagah/Lahore leaves on Wednesday the 14th, at 8pm, from OldDelhi. Tickets will be sold from 8am onwards on the same date only. There is no air-conditioned class--options are 2nd Class 3-tier sleeper for Rs 250/- and 2nd Class unreserved for no idea how much, probably ahundred rupees lesser.
We shop for kaju barfi, anjeer barfi, hand made paper products, small gifts for people we maymeet on the way, copies of magazines including those that I write for. We top up on basic medicines, theSualins, the Hajmolas, the Brufens, the Pudin Haras and the deodarants. Toothpaste, toothbrush, lots of shirts andt-shirts. [What, no razors? No shaving cream? Ha! - Ed] And, of course, the separate list of official contacts in Pakistan, should we run into problems. Medicalinsurance? No time.
The best piece of advice I get from an old mate who went for the one-day party-time trips is to simply board thetrain, go with the flow, and worry about things when we reach Pindi. We also find out that the surly man hasbeen replaced, and a nicer dude is issuing "foot crossing" visas to all who applied on Tuesday the 13th.
Wednesday 14th April, 2004. Home
We learn that our neighbours, who have gone to Panja Sahib with a group of Sikh pilgrims in jathas of about 3000 strong, are expected back in a day or two. Maybe wewould meet them in Pindi? Thethought of 3000 Sikhs running around in Rawalpindi is very intensely moving, for some reason.
The day goes by. More advice, courtesy relatives and friends and general well wishers: reach the station at least 3 hours early, there is boundto be a rush. So we finally leave home for Old Delhi Station, at about 6pm. By taxi, not by car,because the old Sikh drivers from the stand in front of our house are mostly from the Frontier areathemselves, and will have it no other way.
Who cares about what is happening with cricket? Ten-sports is all about advertisements anyway.
Wednesday 14th April, 2004. Station, Evening
I pat my Indian passport reassuringly, wrapped in polythene and secured.
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(to be continued - please check the RHS side for other parts)
Veeresh Malik heads the Asia operations of Infonox. This article is also published at The Chowk