Dreams of friendship

Dear Sheharyar

I am writing this letter at a moment when my mind feels like a gunny sack stuffed with too many potatoes. Pardon that metaphor. I've just finished writing an email that was difficult to find words for because I was trying to share my frustration and practice non violent communication at the same time. That can be exhausting, you know. I feel like by the end of this blog post, I will find myself breathing normally again. Writing to you always cheers me up.

At Dolmen Mall, Karachi (Photo Credit: Haroon Sheikh)

I re-read your blog post. You had a lot of fun in Karachi! I'm glad. You don't travel very often but when you do you make sure that it is filled with joy enough to last you a while. I went to Karachi in April 2014. I was there for a short period - in fact, just a few days. So much was packed into that - meeting friends and their families, bun kebabs at Boat Basin, a play at Hindu Gymkhana, Abdullah Shah Ghazi's mazaar, Ratneshwar Mahadev Mandir, dinner at Kolachi, long drives...well, lots more! You mentioned Sattar Buksh Cafe. I didn't go there but I like the word play on Starbucks :-P I would like to visit Karachi again, and also go to Bhitshah, Sehwan, Hyderabad and Jamshoro. 

At Wazir Khan Mosque, Lahore (Photo Credit: Samreen Shahbaz)

I must confess, however, that Lahore felt safer than Karachi. This feeling comes from a mix of personal experience and what I've heard about Karachi from others. The amount of security at public places does breed some sort of insecurity. It seems like there is always a disaster waiting to happen. I could feel that tension around, quite different from the langour of Lahore. Anyway, let's not go down that road. Delhi-Mumbai and Lahore-Karachi comparisons can go on forever. 

At Wagah with Shabnam and Vipul
(Photo Credit: Smriti Chanchani)

Security, anyway, seems like such an illusion. Mumbai and Delhi have so many high security zones yet we have terrorist attacks. Lahore does too. Hearing about the recent suicide blast at the Wagah border made me really sad. This is what I wrote on that occasion:

"Lahore, it has taken all of three hours for the grief to hit me. I'm on the suburban train back home in Bombay, seated by the window, wishing with all my heart that I could be with you. A friend says a busload of students from his college have rushed off to donate blood. I'm glad such folks still live within reach. Miles away, I mourn for you, wondering when I will see you next. You've always felt like home - safe, warm, mine. I hurt knowing you're hurt. I wish all the Sufis and gurus who walked on your soil could suddenly come alive and heal what's gone so terribly wrong. I love you, Lahore. I pray for your recovery."

At Shah Jamal's mazaar in Lahore

What is the situation like now? Are all the folks who got wounded being taken care of? I don't get to read much about them any longer. I guess those who write have moved on to 'cover' other tragedies. Yes, I too hear that slight note of cynicism in me. It just boggles my mind when I hear of all the murders being committed all over the world - by states, terrorists, freedom fighters, policemen, army personnel, rapists, everyone! What's even more horrifying is the knowledge that these people share a lot in common with you and me. It's not like they are a special brand of evil come into the world. They are making certain choices.

I am reading up a bit about restorative justice these days, and that is making me think about these individuals differently. What leads a certain person to rape someone? Why does a young man believe that killing people will ensure him a reservation in heaven? How does someone come to believe that freedom can come only from picking up a gun? These are difficult questions. I am wondering about how one can think of peace and justice in ways that do not condone human rights violations and also create space for those who've chosen violent means to heal themselves.

With my friends Gerish and Margaret

There must be a way. There must be. I need to go find it. If you meet my friend Margaret Hepworth from Australia, she will almost certainly convince you that anything you dream of is possible. She was in Mumbai for a few days to conduct workshops with various schools. I attended one of those. This one was called 'Almost Impossible Thoughts'. The title came from a conversation between Nelson Mandela and his jailer Dirk. They shared a warm friendship. Margaret gave us a handout, which told us a lot about how this friendship grew and what it meant to both of them. 

At a hotel in Kathmandu soon after Mandela's passing
(Photo Credit: Aditi Rao)

I love Margaret! She's amazing. I feel like we are going to work on many wonderful projects together. She, like me, believes in integrating education, arts and peacebuilding in our engagements with children. I am hoping to meet her in Delhi again. Oh, by the way, did I tell you that she invited me to speak about Friendships Across Borders: Aao Dosti Karein during the 'Almost Impossible Thoughts' workshop? She wanted to use the idea of cross-border friendships between Indians and Pakistanis as something that could be dismissed as an almost impossible thought, or be celebrated as a dream whose time has come!

See, I am already feeling better.

Love

Chintan