Pakistan as we don’t know it

Pakistan as we don’t know it

A few months ago, my wife and I decided to do the unthinkable: visit Pakistan.

Before boarding the Philadelphia-Lahore flight last month, I wrote an op-ed for Pakistan’s The Daily Times, but never anticipated the reaction on social media. Some of my fellow Indians — not only Modi devotees — were offended by my positive mentions of Pakistan and Muslims. The Patel community was most upset.

With this uncertain start, how could we believe that our maiden Pakistan visit would be such a joyous experience? From the moment we arrived we were treated like celebrities. Shopkeepers and restaurants would first refuse to accept money.

It is important to mention here that I was in a country and among people I had done my best all these years to avoid.

This side of Punjab has a lot of camels. I also observed rampant pigeon grooming for gambling. In Faisalabad (old Lyallpur), I was awestruck to see its sky blanketed by colourful kites. The city’s Gobind Pura, Nanak Pura and Harcharan Pura show its inseparable Sikh connection.

When we arrived at Lyallpur Khalsa College (now Municipal Degree College) on a late Friday afternoon, the college appeared to be closed. The security guard pointed us towards the principal who was just opening his car door. One of our local companions hurriedly approached the principal. I will never forget the principal’s words: ‘It is their college, their property. They built it. Who am I to give them permission to tour it?’

Pakistani Punjabi has always been endearing to me, even though my friends and I often made it a butt of our jokes. That its speakers found my Punjabi interesting and original was a pleasant surprise.

Outside Lahore’s Defence Raya Golf and Country Club, I was introduced to Lt Gen Zahid Ali Akbar (retd). Although 88 years of age, he seemed fit enough to finish a marathon. ‘What a joy to speak real Punjabi with you. What they speak here isn’t Punjabi. Teach them some before you leave!’ he said, pointing to my hosts.

At the Punjab Club, Lahore’s colonial hangover is unmistakable. Its dress code and no-photo policy are non-negotiable. Thanks to an invitation from Riaz Ahmad Khan, retired chief justice of the Pakistan Supreme Court, and his wife, we were allowed to visit and eat there.

It was a remarkable journey. I have lived in England as a student and visited many European and Central American countries for business and leisure. I have seen more expansive physical beauty and natural diversity, awe-inspiring infrastructure and impeccable systems. However, never before have I seen such hearty hospitality or experienced an abundance of love that so contrasted with a country’s image abroad. No wonder that we frequently asked each other, ‘Are we in Pakistan?’

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This column was published online by the www.tribuneindia.com on November 09, 2019.

Are we in Pakistan?

Are we in Pakistan?

In an October 5, 2019 column, I wrote about the overwhelming support and love my wife Harpreet Minhas and I received from Delaware’s Pakistani community in America on learning that we were travelling to Pakistan for the first time.

Guru Nanak’s 550th birth anniversary had inspired us to make the trip-one we had previously thought impossible. As it turned out, the eight days I spent in the country so feared by many turned out to be eight of my best.

Our Qatar flight on October 23 had landed almost an hour earlier in Lahore, just past midnight. Immigration and customs were a breeze-a pleasant surprise because getting our Pakistan visas in Washington D.C. had taken us a month.

The airport’s infrastructure and overall condition reminded me of India’s Nagpur airport, which I had visited before coming to America in 1999.

Outside, our trip guide and facilitator, Irfan Raza-our Delaware friend Rubina Malik’s relative and our ride to the Pearl Continental Hotel-had not yet arrived.

Walking around, I started looking and observing and taking pictures of my first glimpses of the Lahore I had read and heard so much about. A Sikh anywhere in the world has a special bond with Lahore for historical, religious, cultural and language reasons.

A bit later, a tall, good-looking man approached me. “Sat Sri Akal Ji.”

“Sat…Sri…Akal,” I mumbled, trying hard to place this familiar face.

Is he one of my wife’s many cousins who live in the Jalandhar belt or a sibling of one of my hometown Patiala friends? His smile and sweet and friendly demeanor provided no clues.

“Sorry, you are…?”

“Irfan, Ji.”His face bloomed even more as he stretched out his right hand. His beautiful wife, Bushra, stood by his side clasping her hands like I do many times when in a gurdwara.

Before they left after checking us in the hotel, we discussed how to overcome various uncertainties we may face arising from Maulana Fazlur Rehman’s call for nationwide protests. We decided to mitigate possible risks by visiting destinations outside Lahore first.

As planned, after we had bathed, changed, slept a few hours and eaten, Irfan and Bushra picked us up to go to Gurdwara Janam Asthan in Nankana Sahib. Irfan was driving.

We headed west and soon reached a bridge over a dry riverbed.

“India stopped Ravi’s water,” Irfan said, anticipating my question.

The dehydrated Ravi illustrated the rocks and stones and ravines in India and Pakistan relations. In my heart I asked Guru Nanak, “Will there be a day when these two neighbours will drown their rocks and stones and flow together in peace and harmony?”

After about three hours we reached the gurdwara on the site where 550 years earlier Guru Nanak Dev was born. I entered the compound and continued to walk towards the gurdwara. A man in his sixties, coming from the opposite side, greeted me.

“I am Abdul Rasheed. My elders revered Baba Nanak. Baba Fareed is our saint; he and Nanak are the same, they taught us. Sardarji, you are fortunate that he has summoned you to his darbar.”

Abdul’s wear was simple and his manner rustic, but what he said was divine.

“This is my first time. Do you live here in Nankana Sahib?” I asked.

“No, Samundari, near Lyallpur. This is my first time as well, though I have been intending to visit for decades.”

“Ah! Because it is his 550th, that’s why you came as I did from America?”

“No, I didn’t know it. Bhaiji (Sikh priest) inside, who fed us food, water and tea, told us. Sardarji, you came because he sent for you. I came because he called me, and he called me now. How could I come before?”

With that, he walked away quietly humming something.

When I came out after paying my obeisance, a group of seven non-Sikh men asked me for a picture. Another family requested the same when we were collecting our shoes.

Such requests for pictures by men and women, boys and girls, individuals and families, young and old, on foot or a bike or in a car grew in the days ahead. Why was I such a celebrity? Honestly, I don’t know.

For instance, the next day, before we reached Kartarpur Sahib, a camel owner in Narowal asked me for a picture. On arrival in the compound of the Gurdwara Darbar Sahib, we were mobbed by the national and international media present there rafter covering the signing of the agreement between India and Pakistan to operationalise Kartarpur Corridor. In Faisalabad, on Friday, visiting Lyallpur Khalsa College (now Municipal Degree College) was one of our top priorities. When we reached its gate, the college appeared to be closed and the helpless security guard pointed us towards the principal about to leave in his car.

When Aslam from our local host group approached him, I will never forget his reply: “It is their college, their property. They built it. Who am I to give them permission?”

Other than absent bars and wine shops and Urdu street signs, it is difficult to tell the two Punjabs apart. East Punjab doesn’t have a large and developed city like Lahore, soaked in grand history. Its DHA developments may have no match in northern India, while the Packages Mall could be a shopping destination anywhere on the globe.

I have lived in England as a student and visited many European, North, South and Central American countries for business and leisure. Australia and Asia as well. I have seen more expansive physical beauty and natural diversity, awe-inspiring infrastructure and impeccable systems.

However, never before have I seen such hearty hospitality or experienced an abundance of love that so contrasted with a country’s image abroad. No wonder that Harpreet and I frequently asked each other, “Are we in Pakistan?”

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This column was published online by the www.dailytimes.com.pk on November 05, 2019.

Memorable tour of Pakistan

Memorable tour of Pakistan

Hi folks, first of all, I would like to thank The Almighty Shri Guru Nanak Dev for making this tour a reality which a devotee can only dream of. Yes, today I am sharing some glimpses of my recent visit to Shri Nankana Sahib, the birthplace of Shri Guru Nanak Dev and also the Kartarpur Sahib in Pakistan.

On 23rd of November, we reached Allama Iqbal International Airport, Lahore, Pakistan and we received overwhelming response and Hospitality from the Pakistani people which completely refreshed us and our fatigue has gone away. When we are heading to visit the shrines we went across the Ravi river which is almost dried these days and coincidently it’s the same Ravi river where Shri Guru Nanak Dev Sahib laid the foundation of Sikh commune on its sides.

Sri Nankana Sahib is located 91 kilometres from Lahore in the district of Nankana Sahib which itself is named after Shri Guru Nanak Dev we went there hiring a local cab and as we are heading towards the ultimate pilgrimage of Sikh religion our driver told us many things about the pious city. We consider ourselves very lucky to have visited the Shrine and we are so mesmerized by the Peaceful and calming atmosphere of the Gurdwara where you can still feel the Spiritual influence of Shri Guru Nanak Dev as we say it’s in the air.

I feel very blessed to have witnessed such defining events of modern history related to Sikh community across the globe. Although there is some time left for the events to actually happen. As we all know the 550th birth anniversary of Shri Guru Nanak Sahib is around the corner and as decided by Government of India and Pakistan, that Kartarpur corridor will be made functional before the 550th anniversary for the Sikh pilgrims to visit Gurudwara Darbar Sahib Kartarpur which is also a major Shrine along with the Nankana Sahib.

On 9th of November the corridor will be inaugurated by the prime minister of Pakistan Mr Imran Khan, the pilgrims will now be able to visit the Kartarpur Gurdwara without any visa but a passport is a must. The total length of the corridor is 6 kilometres from Dera Baba Nanak Sahib, Gurdaspur District, Punjab, India to Kartarpur Gurdwara Darbar Sahib, Pakistan out of which four kilometres are in Pakistan and two kilometres are in India. This is a very welcome move on part of both the governments which is welcomed by the Sikh community all over the globe.

I Was Lucky to Visit Kartarpur Gurdwara Before Everyone Else Did

I Was Lucky to Visit Kartarpur Gurdwara Before Everyone Else Did

On 24 October, my wife and I had the good fortune of visiting Kartarpur Sahib gurdwara – before it opens to Indian pilgrims on 8 November.

We travelled from Delaware to Lahore a day before and left for Kartarpur the following morning. There was a lot of construction activity going on, but it was wonderful to get a first look at Darbar Sahib.

What we will cherish most is the kind of hospitality and warmth we received from the Pakistanis, from the security people at the entrance of the gurdwara. We were greeted with warmth and joy everywhere we went. It was a pleasure being at Kartarpur.

We were greeted with a white expanse upon entering the premises. It was amazing to see the commitment of the local and central government in finishing up the work before the inauguration. There was a road being constructed for the pilgrims’ entry, and the library was almost furnished too. The experience was nothing short of surreal.


Construction underway at the gurdwara.

It was most touching to see local people from Lahore and its neighbourhood welcoming and helping us, making sure we had a great time.

This visit was something that we had desired and wanted for a long time, but we’d never thought that such a day would come when we’d have the opportunity to visit the holy destination – that too before the 550th birth anniversary of Guru Nanak Dev.

We were also lucky to have visited Nankana Sahib, the birthplace of Guru Nanak Dev.

Our purpose in coming here has been fulfilled in a joyous and beautiful way.

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This column was published online by the www.thequint.com on November 04, 2019.

Meet the Delaware pair building libraries in their native India (opinion)

Meet the Delaware pair building libraries in their native India (opinion)

Everyone knows that education is important, but in some parts of the world it is difficult, if not impossible, to come by.

Not many know of two Dover-Camden area Delawareans — Sanjay Kumar and Mahendra Kumar — whose life mission is to change that through a non-profit they started in 2005 aptly named Be Educated!

Like me, the two men (who are not related) were born and educated in India and are in the software industry. I met them nearly 20 years ago when we all lived in Dover’s Woodmill Apartments. I contacted them recently to find out the origin of their educational mission.

 

Libraries in remote villages

“I was visiting my hometown Lucknow in 2004 where I met Raj Kumar,” recalled Sanjay. “He came along with the vehicle I had hired for my holidays as its driver. He ranted during every single ride about how miserably middle and high school students in rural India do in exams.”

Why? One day, Sanjay finally asked him.

“‘Because the poor and underprivileged in villages can’t afford ‘guides’ (test prep and study materials),” Raj said.

Mahendra’s inspiration was rooted in unfair favoritism and politics. He witnessed blatant and pervasive corruption in the schools. For example, he said, a politician’s son unable to spell his own name was acclaimed over and above other students for academic excellence.

To counter this malaise, Sanjay and Mahendra evolved a simple and economical solution. They opened libraries stocked with study guides in the homes of unpaid, impassioned volunteers in the neediest villages. Each of these $800 libraries was allocated $500 for books and $300 for such necessities as a signboards, cupboards and administration.

The first one was opened in April 2005 in Raj Kumar’s home in Gurubhasganj. The founders were also its sponsors.

By 2007, Be Educated! had opened five libraries in India. Word quickly spread.

Someone in Nepal was very eager to start one there, Raj Kumar reported. That became the sixth library and the first outside India. That same year, another opened in Pakistan.

Today, the nonprofit has more than 80 operational libraries in the three countries. Five libraries each are named after Martin Luther King Jr. and Malala Yousafzai

“How did you choose which villager’s house to open the library in?” I asked.

“We chose those host volunteers who were poor but passionate over the affluent who wanted it as a status symbol,” Mahendra said.

Added Sanjay: “We do ‘Power of One’ fundraisers in Dover. We solicit $1,000 sponsors (the cost has gone up) to open a library in whatever name the sponsor wants. However, the sponsor can’t choose the location. This way we have libraries in Muslim Pakistan sponsored by Hindu Indians and vice-versa. Regardless of how little and humble our endeavor is, we will stay at it to turn the arch rivals into good neighbors.”

 

Homes for Angels

The program’s success fueled its expansion.

“We started two more projects over the last couple of years,” Mahendra said. “In 2016, we started Home for Angels in Mumbai.”

“Straight from the villages to Mumbai?” I wondered aloud.

Mahendra explained that Kashyap Sanghvi, who lives in Newark, had come from Mumbai. He told them of a couple there who were providing food, shelter, education and everything else to 18 orphans living with them in their two-bedroom apartment — even though they had two children of their own.

“What?” was my reaction

Sanjay picked up the story.

“Exactly! Many of these orphans were children of parents who had died from HIV; some were born HIV positive. This couple, Father Thomas Reji and his wife, took them in because no one else wanted them. They lay discarded on the streets. For help with their education, Kashyap approached us.”

In response the two Delaware men organized a Home for Angels fundraiser in Dover.

“We were clear: only a library isn’t the answer in this case,” Sanjay said. “These kids need space, tutors, desktops, tables and chairs, and, of course, stationery.”

To increase space, the program rented another apartment in the neighborhood and installed video cameras in it. First, only one tutor was hired. A second was added as the number of children gradually grew. They are 32 now, divided into three groups according to age.

“The tutors help two groups with afterschool work every day,” Mahendra said. “The oldest group gets coaching outside, around the corner.”

He acknowledges that raising money for this work is challenging. However, “you are blown away by the magnanimity of the individuals and families. Our tax-exempt status helps,” Sanjay said. “The first fundraiser of $10,000 helped us with renting, decorating and initial ‘goodies.”

“We have angels in Delaware as well,” Mahendra said. He recounted how a Dover couple, after learning that there were no beds for the children, immediately wrote a check to cover the entire cost of 16 bunk beds for the 32 orphans.

 

Future Girlz

These two men’s latest endeavor is directed at helping Indian girls with their educations.

“Future Girlz is our third project, started in 2017,” Mahendra said. “In this, we open libraries in towns and cities exclusively for girls. Also, in these libraries, learning is measured because we employ tutors to teach and test.”

Why tutor-led libraries with a focus on girls?

“One, they are the neediest,” Sanjay explained. “Two, they love to learn. Third, an educated girl means an educated family, a better world.”

He said the first girls’ library opened in Rajkot in the western state of Gujarat inside an existing women’s center. As with all of their projects, growth has come quickly. There are now six libraries for “Girlz,” including two in Nepal.

If you would like to learn more about any of these programs, contact Mahendra Kumar 302-883-1456, or visit their website: www.beeducated.org.

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This column was published online by the www.delawareonline.com on October 18, 2019.

‘Life Humbles Everyone’: Living By My College Principal’s Words

‘Life Humbles Everyone’: Living By My College Principal’s Words

An event that took place in 1989 remains etched in my memory. It isn’t the first liver transplant or Sachin Tendulkar’s international debut. No, it’s also not about the fall of the Berlin Wall.

It is about an evening during my computer science undergrad second year at the BN College of Engineering, Pusad, and the college’s then Principal BM Thakare — popularly known as ‘Takla’ among the students.

Rain had engulfed the town and lightning was ripping apart the skies, when Gurminder, Chauhan, and I finally left the Mungsaji Bar — past its closing time. We walked towards the parked cycle-rickshaws outside and enquired: “Eh bhau, engineering college hostel?”

We broke into riotous laughter along the way in the rickshaw, while imitating Nana Patekar’s dialogues from Parinda — a film we had watched earlier that evening. Upon our insistence, bhau removed the rickshaw’s hood from over our heads.

The Terror That Was Principal Thakare
I don’t remember why and when we shifted gears and started to sing. But I remember us loudly singing Shalimaar’s song Hum Bewafa, when we approached the house of Principal Thakare, unaware of our surroundings until my more-academically inclined companions noticed it when the house came into sight, and panicked. The house stood alone, away from the road, between the bar and the hostels.

Their panic only made my Jinga Lala Hur Hur howling louder. Just then two long bursts of lightning illuminated a car backing out of the house. Seeing that even I panicked.

Our worst fears came true. The car screeched to a halt before the rickshaw and the principal jumped out of it. We almost stopped breathing and reluctantly got off the rickshaw, scared out of our wits.

“What’s wrong with you hooligans? Why are you all braying like donkeys in the middle of the night?” This wasn’t the thunder from the sky. We exchanged looks amongst ourselves with furrowed brows.

“We? No, no, sir…we…we were just discussing if Gurminder and Chauhan will get a scholarship for jointly topping the first year,” I said.

“Who was making a lot of noise on the road then?”

“Couple of other rickshaws go…” Gurminder fumbled with words.

“Four college boys… on a bike, sir,” Chauhan said, pointing towards the hostels.

“Many seniors just went past us, sir,” I chimed in. We started to breathe again when Principal Thakare got back into his car. That’s the kind of terror Mr Thakare elicited from both students and staff.

A Lesson In Humility From Principal Thakare
He was the principal of the college from its inception in 1983 until 1996, and then stayed on as director for the next ten years, before moving to Nagpur for good. The rickshaw caper was not the only incident that showed Mr Thakare’s authority and persona.

Sandeep Chahal from Rohtak had just joined the college’s civil engineering course in 1990. A few months later, he and his friends were caught by the hostel warden drinking, dancing and peeing on the hostel roof. They were all summoned to Mr Thakare’s house the next day. It was a Sunday.

“He scolded us, shouted at us, and asked, ‘Should I rusticate you all or give you a chance?”

Sandeep quotes Mr Thakare often when he addresses the student community of the college he runs in his hometown now.

“Principal Thakare kept pacing back and forth in the verandah of his house like a pendulum while we stood below looking bloodless. No one was breathing. After a gap of every two oscillations, he would reach the switchboard and press a button, first on and then off. I stood there reminiscing Sholay’s Gabbar Singh, but singing Maar Diya Jaye Ki Chhod Diya Jaye Bol Tere Saath Kya Slook Kiya Jaye in my head,” Sandeep recalls.

One of Sandeep’s accomplices was Anil Rathee. He was a rebel, in love with trouble. His experience with Mr Thakare was a bit different.

“When I joined the college back after one-year rustication, I was determined to prove Mr Thakare’s saying, ‘you will never pass,’ wrong,” said Rathee. “After graduation I went to meet him.”

“Do you know why I had rusticated you?” Mr Thakare asked him.

“Because of what I did.”

“No, to teach you how important it is to be humble. Life humbles everyone.”

Principal Thakare, The Disciplinarian
Sometimes Mr Thakare’s lessons were a bit more forceful, as Sanjay Grover found out. Sanjay was a year junior to me in the college. He was academically better than his circle of friends. Initially, he used to help them cheat. One day, while walking towards the canteen, he made an about-turn upon seeing the principal heading in his direction.

“Mr Grover,” Mr Thakare called out.

“Yes sir,” Sanjay meekly answered.

“Change your friends and habits,” he said calmly, “and stop doing what you are doing.”

“I don’t understand, sir,” Sanjay replied, applying the ignorance is bliss theorem to the problem at hand.

“Let me be clear, Mr Grover. You are on oxygen and guess who controls the supply? Before Sanjay could answer, Mr Thakare said, “ME!”

How BM Thakare Built An Institution & A Community
As former students recalled their “teaching moments” with Mr Thakare, the faculty remember his commitment to the college. Mr KR Atal taught us mathematics in the first two years. He described how the college evolved from just a badminton hall to what it is today because of Mr Thakare’s vision and work ethic.

“Even in only the badminton hall days, the college’s functioning was smooth,” he said. Later, all classes, labs, library and offices were moved to the current workshop building once it stood up. Mr Thakare was the first one, every day, to reach the college on his scooter. He would greet and welcome students and staff when they entered. All this when he was often the last one to leave.”

His dedication inspired countless former students, even long after graduating, to become Principal Thakare’s ardent followers.

Thousands in India and hundreds spread across the globe felt obliged to visit him in Nagpur whenever possible, and took pride in posting their pictures with him on social media.

Principal Thakare was overwhelmed by the respect and gratitude, as the tears in his eyes often revealed.

The Devolution Of BM Thakare’s Grand Institution
His ability to build an institution extended to the community. Besides overseeing the affairs of the institution and teaching final year civil engineering students, I cannot understand how he still managed to regularly appear everywhere: from the hostels, the mess halls and college canteen, to private houses rented outside by the students.

The college was booming in those years and he loved steering its growth. Each year saw new additions. From hostels to classes to tennis courts and an administrative block, library, and auditorium — all grew under his direction and supervision.

The college of the time was a multicultural, multilingual and multicoloured garden in full bloom.

No wonder the remote and impoverished Pusad taluka was benefiting from it in more ways than one.

Responding to the growing demand, many new shops, lodges, restaurants, and bars opened up in Pusad. A beautiful garden park also was added between sootgirni and the college. I was still in the college when the local MLA, Sudhakar Rao Naik, became the state’s chief minister in 1991.

I visited the college briefly in 2013 and found that everything had changed. Though the whole college had gathered at the state-of-the-art auditorium to greet me, barely half the room’s capacity was filled. I couldn’t oblige the students when they asked me to speak only in Marathi — not Hindi or English.

Principal Thakare’s Demise: ‘Losing A Mentor, Teacher… My Pappa Ji’
The college looked like India’s concrete jungle metropolis, sans traffic. The empty hostels and near-empty classrooms were sulking—not so silently. Contrast it with my time, when three of us were packed in each hostel room designed for only one.

Pusad, too, had nothing uplifting to offer. A lot of bars, restaurants and other outlets I frequented in my time had died. Sootgirni had closed. The Naik family’s influence, the town’s crowning glory, was rapidly evaporating.

Last year, in Vancouver, I organised an alumni reunion of college students. Someone whispered that the college would soon close because it was struggling with admissions.

I am sure principal BM Thakare knew the state of his “child” only too well. How could he stay to sift through its ashes?

He passed away in the wee hours of 14 July this year.

Thousands of his former students’ messages like this one from the current principal, Avinash M Wankhade, on Facebook, reflect what they felt: “Today I am speechless…feeling alone…I lost my best teacher…I lost my mentor…I lost my PAPPAJI.”