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Journalism of Courage
APRIL 30: Rs 100 for each passport,” barks the immigration officer at the Atari station, extending his hand through the window. “I don’t have that much,” says Shahna Begum apologetically, holding three blue passports in her hand. Her old in-laws are sitting patiently at the platform nearby.
“Okay, then give me Rs 200 for all three. Nothing less than that,” the prosperously built officer says, finalising the deal. Shahna Begum rummages through her grubby pouch and hands over two crumpled currency notes to him. “Nakli to nahin hain, (I hope they are not fake),” he jokes, inspecting them against the light before slipping them in his pocket.
There is nothing subtle about corruption here. And no discrimination between the blue (Indian) and the green (Pakistani) passports. Rates remain the same — Rs 150 to Rs 50 — depending upon the bargain struck.
The regulars on the train know and carry money accordingly. “This is just the beginning. There still are customs officials to take care of. And not just here but across the border too,” explains Rahmat Ali wisely. He is a veteran traveller on Samjhauta Express running between Attari and Lahore.
Sure enough, the same thing is repeated at the customs check point. A cigarette dangling from his lips, a customs officer opens each and every bag of Sulaiman, unfolding all clothes. His wife weeps in embarrassment as the customs officer holds her undergarments. “He asked me for money. I didn’t have any,” Sulaiman explains. There are others whose baggage is cleared untouched. They had some money to pay. The X-ray machines are not working.
The passengers had been waiting at the Attari station since 4.30 am — the time when the Attari special train from Delhi brought them here. The Attari special train is meant only for passengers taking Samjhauta Express from Attari which departs at 12.30 pm.
Harassment for passengers had begun the night before on the Attari Special itself. Cramped in the overnight train, the passengers were made to shell out money at Ambala station too. The unreserved general train stops only at two stations on the way — Panipat and Ambala. With the train being unreserved, people are packed in like sardines, corridors choked with their luggage.
A head constable of Haryana Police, without his name tag, got on the train at Ambala and went on a collection spree. “Why are you carrying so much luggage,” he asked slapping the man on his back. Without waiting for an answer, the cop asked for “duty ka paisa.” The man started to argue when another passenger asked him to pay Rs 10 to the policeman. “He is like a dog. Throw some bones and he will go wagging his tail,” the passenger said with disgust. The policeman smiled and took the money offered to him.
The head constable was on duty to ensure that nobody leaves the train at the station. “But people going to Pakistan are only meant to be exploited by the authorities on both sides,” said Maqbool Khan, on his way to meet his brother in Rawalpindi.
After spending eight harrowing hours at Attari, the passengers are shepherded into the waiting Samjhauta Express. While they were undergoing immigration and customs checks, the train was inspected by security personnel. “After all, it is going to Pakistan,” one of them explained.
The train leaves for the journey across the border at 12.30 pm, accompanied by customs and General Railway Police (GRP) personnel. Men of the Border Security Force (BSF) mounted on horseback ride along both sides of the train. Golden wheat fields sway on both sides, beyond the barbed wire fence securing the track.
Dhanyavad‘ (Thank you) is the first signboard and then a menacing black gate looms ahead. It signifies the zero point’ — the no man’s land between the two countries. It is 12.52 pm and the train stops briefly — just long enough for the customs and GRP personnel to get off. The BSF riders return as the train moves again.
And then a signboard in Urdu looms large. “It says welcome to Pakistan,” a fellow passenger educates. The wheat fields remain the same. Only the uniform of the guards changes as the Pakistani rangers — counterparts of the Indian BSF personnel — take over.
At 12.59 pm, the train enters Wagah station, followed by five hours of harassment by immigration and customs officials. The rates remain the same — Rs 150 to Rs 50. The only difference here is that the X-ray machines are working but suitcases of unwilling bribers are still opened.
A customs official chides an old woman carrying 15 kg of paan leaves. “How much did you pay the Indian customs man to get this through ?” he asks. When the woman says she has no money to pay, he confiscates the paan leaves.
“Salaam aalekum. I am inspector Shakeel from the special branch (CID). You are a journalist from India? Welcome to Pakistan,” a man in plain clothes tells this correspondent. The man would be a constant companion, even if remaining in shadows — during the week-long stay in Lahore.
From Wagah it is the Pakistani rake which takes over to complete the journey to Lahore. At 6.40 pm it enters the Lahore station. Samjhauta Express, thus, reunites many a family, shares the joys and sorrows of people divided. The fare of Rs 164 between Delhi and Lahore and the bribes are a small price to pay. But Inspector Shakeel and the distrust remain.
