Saturday, November 29, 2008

The Non-Existence of Dialogue

Two narratives of migration and dislocation in the aftermath of the Partition that reinforce the goodness of the ‘common’ man.





Tales of Two Cities, Kuldip Nayar and Asif Noorani, edited by David Page, Lotus/Roli

The Partition of the British Indian Empire into India and Pakistan in 1947 is one of the biggest human tragedies in modern history, its scale rivalling the Holocaust that led to the Second World War. The estimates of the number of deaths owing to the violence and bloodshed that followed the population transfer range around 5,00,000, with low estimates at 2,00,000 and higher numbers placing it as high as 1,000,000. Many more lost their homes and possessions and were forced to build their lives from scratch in a new country. The scars the tragedy left behind continues to fester in the subcontinent and has accounted for two wars between India and Pakistan. Terror attacks on both sides of the border presently can also be linked to the migration that took place over six decades ago. Communal riots that are a shameful blot


on the horizon of modern India owe a lot to the bloody legacy of the Partition. As the cliché goes, our country and its people forget their history only to repeat it time and again. From Godhra to Meerut. From Jamshedpur to Mumbai.

Enabling dialogue

It is in this context that the two long essays by Kuldip Nayar and Asif Noorani, edited by David Page and brought out in a single compilation by Roli Books as Tales of Two Cities assumes significance. The book is the fourth in a series of cross border talks. Other titles include Diplomatic Divide, Divided by Democracy and Fault Lines of Nationhood.
Nayar writes about the journey he undertook from Sialkot to Delhi as the first migrant in his family. He starts with his reluctance to leave the place of his birth where his father was a respected doctor and goes on to narrate how he was literally tricked into leaving Pakistan as the tension


between the two communities began to escalate. He is not enamoured by the capital of India when he moves in with his aunt. Ironically, his first employer is a Muslim and his first job is with an Urdu newspaper. Nayar captures the subtle irony and paradox of the situation with his lucid prose. The simplicity of his narrative style helps the reader get in touch with the complex times. It is particularly piquant that the homeless finds himself at home with the same community that hastened his migration and who now find themselves in the same situation the author and his family were on the other side of the border. Even more poignant is the journey Nayar makes to Sialkot after many years of Partition only to discover he has been exiled forever and the home he grew up in belongs to someone else.
Asif Noorani is a film journalist of repute and it comes as no surprise that he was born in Bombay in the year the undivided country was extolling the British to Quit India. He and his parents migrate to Pakistan much after the Partition saga has unfolded. He continues to be linked to this country through his mother’s side of the family. Another tie that binds him to India is, of course, Bollywood. As someone who was somewhat protected from the trauma of the initial years following the Partition in the cosmopolitan ethos of Bombay, Noorani is able to retain his sense of humour even while he is sharing dramatic events from his life like being stranded in the city of his birth during the Indo-Pak war of 1965. His encounter with a junior officer of CID, Takle, who manages to retain his humanity even in trying times is particularly heart warming. Noorani also refers to the dilemma of the Indian Muslim when his friends from the film fraternity in Bombay are compelled to disown him in the time of war to prove their patriotism.

Gentle tales

The two long essays flow like gentle tales being told by two wise old men. They may be in the nature of short memoirs capturing a turbulent and traumatic period in their lives but read more like pungent short fiction. Both Noorani and Nayar are products of middle class and in a way their birth seems to have shielded them from the violence and brutality of the event. Neither of them report any casualty


in their family. Both the writers reinforce the goodness of the common man who, irrespective of religious affiliations, continues to be gracious in times of strife engineered by political leaders.
It is only fitting that an Englishman is facilitating this cross border dialogue. The Dickens derived introduction to the two essays by David Page sets the correct tone for what is to follow. Tales of Two Cities may work for even those who usually give non-fiction a miss.

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