Hello-goodbye, Lahore

On the bus my wife (who had never been to Lahore) and I, were the only ones who were neither members of divided families travelling to meet relatives nor journalists covering the historic journey. As the bus pulled out of Delhi’s Ambedkar stadium, many shouted “Vajpayeeji zindabad”. I was told that this was because only Vajpayee had made it possible for many youngsters on board to visit their grandparents for the first, and possibly last, time.

To our pleasant surprise, Abdul Shakoor Rana or Shakoor Bhai, president of the South Asian Fraternity, to whom I had written, was at the bus terminal to receive us at Lahore. The next morning, on a pre-breakfast stroll around our hotel, Faletti’s, we found ourselves surrounded by some young women who recognised us as the passengers of the First Bus. They insisted we accompany them for breakfast to the nearby home of one of them. There we answered questions about India, the Red Fort and the Taj Mahal which they said they longed to see. When we returned to the hotel, Shakoor Bhai arrived with his wife, Naheed, and insisted that we move in with them. We were embarrassed, our acquaintance was not even 24 hours’ old. But they wouldn’t relent.

F.C College and Ewing Hall (now Tipu Hall) were uppermost in my thoughts. The principal, Professor Dr M. Rehan Siddiqi, had been told about my desire to visit the college. He and his staff did all they could to make the visit memorable. They escorted us through the college and to my room, No 14. Its present occupant, Khalid, even gave me a bundle of Urdu books as a token of those I had left behind. And then there was lunch in the very dining room in which I had eaten three meals every day for several years!

One person who made the bus journey more than worthwhile was Azam, Shakoor Bhai’s 19-year-old chauffeur. It was the first time that Azam had met Hindus. He had never heard of Diwali, Dussehra or Holi. He was so excited at meeting us that he decided to drive us to his village, after instructing his mother that only vegetarian food was to be served. But when we were about to leave, Shakoor Bhai happened to ask about our plans and he explained to Azam that our visas were not valid outside Lahore. Azam was in tears. He wanted us to come with more “pucca visas” next time.

Would there be a next time? Leaving Lahore, waving goodbye to Shakoor Bhai and Azam was painful. Unlike 52 years ago when I left, expecting to return.