कहते है की आँखों को वीज़ा नहीं लगता, आज भी दो मुल्को के जाट एक दुसरे को चाहते है | एक भारतीय लेखक की डायरी में लिखी ये छोटी सी कहानी दिल को छु जाती है | आखिर बंटवारा क्यों हुआ, क्यों जाटों को दो हिस्सों में बाँट दिया??????
I enter a grubby tea-stall. A giant kettle sits on a coal fire, spewing out clouds of smoke. The stall is run by a Jat family and caters mainly to autorickshaw drivers, artisans, small shopkeepers and daily wage labourers. 'Do not discuss politics here', announces a slogan on the wall, above a blow-up of half a dozen scantily-dressed Bollywood actresses, whose presence here makes me feel decidedly embarrassed.
Choudhri Sahib, the amiable patriarch of the family, sits on an ornate, delicately-carved chair that seems at least a century old but is now badly worn-out. He bears an enormous turban on his head and puffs away at a clay hukkah. When he learns I am from India he refuses to take any payment from me. Instead, he insists I should drink another cup of milky tea. 'I was born in India', says Choudhri Sahib. 'Your grandparents were born in what is Pakistan. But you live in India and I in Pakistan. Strange, is it not?'.
'We are Mula Jats, originally from what is now Haryana in India', Choudhri Sahib explains. 'There are Hindu, Sikh and Muslim Jats. Jats live in both India and Pakistan. We follow different religions but we are all Jats', he adds.
Mula Jats, Choudhri Sahib tells me, followed both Hindu as well as Muslim customs and could not easily be classified as either Hindu or Muslim. Perhaps they were a bit of both. Starting in the early twentieth century, Hindu and Muslim revivalist religious organisations began targetting the community, trying to convert them to their respective faiths.
'Some of us became Arya Samajists, others became better Muslims. Many of us remained just as our ancestors had been', Choudhri Sahib reveals.
Then, in 1947, the Mula Jats were faced with an unenviable choice. Choudhri Sahib lowers his voice. 'We owned a lot of land. So, Hindu mobs attacked our village. They said that we should either convert to Hinduism, abandon our lands and flee to Pakistan or else be ready to be killed'.
Scores of Mula Jats were killed in the Partition violence. Many more fled across to the newly-created Pakistan. But a small number of remained in their ancestral land. Many of them converted to Hinduism through the Arya Samaj. Some continued being Muslim, in some sense.
Some of those who became outwardly Hindu retained their faith in Islam secretly while others lost completely their association with Islam. And there were others who became Hindu for a while and, after peace was restored, turned Muslim again after a few years. 'Their conversion was probably just tactical. They found that despite their conversion the Hndu Jats refused to eat or intermarry with them', says Choudhri Sahib.
'My brother, Shiv Khan, decided to stay on i India. The last time I heard from him was around twenty years ago', the patriarch reminisces. 'He was the most hardworking and sincere of us all. Now I don't know what has happened to him. I sent him so many letters but I have had no news. Allah bless him'.
I see tears well in Choudhry Sahib's tired eyes. I decide to leave. I still have not changed my money and that, I remind myself, I must do at once, for, today being Friday, the shops will probably close early. I bid farewell and reluctantly head back for the chaos of Mall Road.
Yoginder Sikand in Pakistan dairy.
I enter a grubby tea-stall. A giant kettle sits on a coal fire, spewing out clouds of smoke. The stall is run by a Jat family and caters mainly to autorickshaw drivers, artisans, small shopkeepers and daily wage labourers. 'Do not discuss politics here', announces a slogan on the wall, above a blow-up of half a dozen scantily-dressed Bollywood actresses, whose presence here makes me feel decidedly embarrassed.
Choudhri Sahib, the amiable patriarch of the family, sits on an ornate, delicately-carved chair that seems at least a century old but is now badly worn-out. He bears an enormous turban on his head and puffs away at a clay hukkah. When he learns I am from India he refuses to take any payment from me. Instead, he insists I should drink another cup of milky tea. 'I was born in India', says Choudhri Sahib. 'Your grandparents were born in what is Pakistan. But you live in India and I in Pakistan. Strange, is it not?'.
'We are Mula Jats, originally from what is now Haryana in India', Choudhri Sahib explains. 'There are Hindu, Sikh and Muslim Jats. Jats live in both India and Pakistan. We follow different religions but we are all Jats', he adds.
Mula Jats, Choudhri Sahib tells me, followed both Hindu as well as Muslim customs and could not easily be classified as either Hindu or Muslim. Perhaps they were a bit of both. Starting in the early twentieth century, Hindu and Muslim revivalist religious organisations began targetting the community, trying to convert them to their respective faiths.
'Some of us became Arya Samajists, others became better Muslims. Many of us remained just as our ancestors had been', Choudhri Sahib reveals.
Then, in 1947, the Mula Jats were faced with an unenviable choice. Choudhri Sahib lowers his voice. 'We owned a lot of land. So, Hindu mobs attacked our village. They said that we should either convert to Hinduism, abandon our lands and flee to Pakistan or else be ready to be killed'.
Scores of Mula Jats were killed in the Partition violence. Many more fled across to the newly-created Pakistan. But a small number of remained in their ancestral land. Many of them converted to Hinduism through the Arya Samaj. Some continued being Muslim, in some sense.
Some of those who became outwardly Hindu retained their faith in Islam secretly while others lost completely their association with Islam. And there were others who became Hindu for a while and, after peace was restored, turned Muslim again after a few years. 'Their conversion was probably just tactical. They found that despite their conversion the Hndu Jats refused to eat or intermarry with them', says Choudhri Sahib.
'My brother, Shiv Khan, decided to stay on i India. The last time I heard from him was around twenty years ago', the patriarch reminisces. 'He was the most hardworking and sincere of us all. Now I don't know what has happened to him. I sent him so many letters but I have had no news. Allah bless him'.
I see tears well in Choudhry Sahib's tired eyes. I decide to leave. I still have not changed my money and that, I remind myself, I must do at once, for, today being Friday, the shops will probably close early. I bid farewell and reluctantly head back for the chaos of Mall Road.
Yoginder Sikand in Pakistan dairy.
