Samjhauta moments

Hafiza, Ameena and Altaf were the cutest kids I had seen in a long time, as they posed for my camera sitting atop the upper berth in the Samjhauta Express on that wintry night in November 2004.

Hafiza, Ameena and Altaf were the cutest kids I had seen in a long time, as they posed for my camera sitting atop the upper berth in the Samjhauta Express on that wintry night in November 2004. The three siblings were sharing space with at least a dozen other children on that cramped berth!

Make no mistake, the Samjhauta Express is a train of the poor and carries as many as 650 passengers cramped up in its 12-odd bogies. And it is not an easy journey. The paperwork and the incomprehensible delays can drive you nuts. At the Attari railway station near Amritsar, where one boards the Pakistan-bound train, one has to fill an immigration form in English. This is ironical, considering that the most of the passengers who travel by this train twice a week speak only Hindi or Urdu!

Most passengers have to beg fellow passengers to fill their forms. I filled a dozen forms on my way to Pakistan and another dozen on my return to India. The customs check took another four hours, with the officials wanting to check every handkerchief.

That day, the train left only at 6.30 pm, a good five hours behind schedule. The train was largely unreserved. Seats had to be secured on a first-come first-serve basis. It was sad to see old couples with large bags, being pushed around by younger, stronger passengers.

Despite being crammed on that upper berth, Hafeeza and her siblings were chirpy. They asked me, 8220;Chacha aap Pakistan pahili bar aa rahe ho? Bahut pyara mulk hain!8221; Uncle, is this the first time you are coming to Pakistan. It is a lovely country!

However, an old man named Mohammed, seated below the children8217;s berth was not so happy. He was travelling to Multan to meet his deceased brother8217;s family but lamented that he never got a chance to meet his brother alive.

Then the train reached Wagah 30 minutes later. Every passenger was once again made to disembark with bag and baggage for the Pakistani round of immigration checks. When we finally entered the majestic, century-old Lahore railway station, it was two in the morning. We had taken eight hours to cover a distance of just 42 km!