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 Far from the shores of the subcontinent and the Middle East, if a Pakistani spots an Indian or a Bangladeshi at the departure lounge of an international airport, he will most likely sit next to him than with someone whose culture and language are totally different from his own. It works both ways. This is not to mean that if a Pakistani goes to India or vice versa, he would meet belligerent people. Every time I have flown to the other side of the border, the common people I met there were curious to know about the prices of flour, rice, pulses and vegetables. The more inquisitive ones wanted to know if every Pakistani woman was clad in a burqa.
Curiosity about Pakistan is common among the educated and affluent as well, which springs from lack of contact. A well known lady in Chennai asked me at a party if having more than one wife was a common feature in Pakistan and then reluctantly enquired if I had two wives. I replied with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek, "I can afford to have two wives, but I certainly don't have the patience to deal with two mothers-in-law. And as for your first question I may tell you that the only person in our family who has two wives is an uncle of mine, who incidentally is Indian. He lives in Mumbai." In all my trips spread over five decades I have not met any Indian who spoke venomously about Pakistan, some may have felt it that way, but they were discreet enough not to give vent to their feelings. However, a solitary exception was a journalist called Kapoor, whom I met twice. On the second meeting he offered to take me to the restaurant at the India International Centre, where I was staying. He offered me a seat on a table where three of his friends were having coffee. Kapoor ordered a cup for me but before it could have arrived he started his tirades against Pakistan. I tried to change the subject but all in vain. "You don't seem to be an Indian." I said, "Of course, I am. What makes you think so?" He repied, "That is because like Pakistanis Indians are also nice and hospitable with their guests. They don't make them feel uncomfortable," was my way of flooring him. It worked. His friends told him that I was right. I was at that time in New Delhi at the launch of Tales of Two Cities, which I had co-authored with the veteran Indian journalist Kuldip Nayar. It was the fourth in the series - Cross Border Talks, edited by David Page of the BBC. It was one book in the series where neither of the two writers had written negatively about the other country and its people. Kuldip sahib is a peacenik like me. He wrote about his experiences of migration from Pakistan to India, rather his travel through pools of blood from Sialkot to Delhi and the events that took place later. He didn't blame any one community for the bloodshed and all other misdeeds. Twelve years his junior, I sailed with my parents in 1950 from Bombay to Karachi. Initially we lived in Lahore, which was not claustrophobic like my native city, but it seemed quite rural, particularly Model Town where we found a house behind which were fields. I also wrote about the Karachi of the fifties, which interested those who migrated to the city as also those who left it for India in the late forties. The launch function of the book, chaired by Afsaryab, the Deputy High Commissioner for Pakistan (since his boss was out of town), was very widely attended and I was really touched by the sentiments expressed and the warmth shown by the people. It was decided that a launch function would be held in Karachi also but the serial killing in Mumbai a month later made the publisher (Roli Books, New Delhi) give up the idea. I won't blame them for that. But a heartening fact was that the book has sold very well in both countries. In Pakistan it outsold all the four books in the series put together. What is more it has proved to be a consistent seller. My current project Mehdi Hasan: the Man and his Music, which I visualised, compiled and edited, not to speak of my own writings that have found place in the volume, has contributions by Indians and Bangladeshis, apart from Pakistanis. The book is accompanied with two CDs. One comprises his live recordings from 1976 when the singer was in his prime. The tracks have been digitized by EMI Pakistan. The other has comments in praise of the singer by Jagjit Singh, followed by his lilting numbers from Pakistani films, his interpretation of Heer, a Kafi and a thumri - all priceless recordings. What is no less there is not a single pirated recording. Singers Runa Laila and composer Robin Ghosh have written about the singer and there is a letter to Mehdi Hasan written by Mr. Vajpayee. Then there is a brief but very readable article by Raza Ali Abidi from the BBC. Listed among the awards that he has won in all these years is the one from Nepal. There are some interesting anecdotes too, one of which is about his performance in Bombay (it wasn't Mumbai then). Thus the book is truly a South Asian project and is a tribute to a man whose popularity transcends national boundaries. While we look beyond our western borders, we must not forget that we are essentially South Asians.  Asif Noorani is a seasoned journalist and writes on art, literature, travel, music and movies.
Asif Noorani is a senior Pakistani journalist and has written extensively on literary issues and critical analysis of the Arts.
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