The rusty Samjhauta Express, that shuttled between Amritsar and Lahore, will soon be back on track. This reminds me of a journey I undertook in 1991 on it. Platform No 5 at Amritsar station was earmarked for this train. On the morning of my journey, there were some 350-odd passengers, most were Muslims from UP, Bihar and Haryana. The currency exchange booths were empty, about a dozen private money-changers went around changing money at arbitrary rates.The journey up to Attari was uneventful, apart from the Punjab police moving about to make their presence felt. It was at Attari, the last rail post on the Indian side, that the action began. Goods were “confiscated” and then released for a consideration. The customs, immigration and intelligence personnel on the Indian side all got into the act.The passengers then shifted to the Pakistani train, which stood parked on a fully-fenced track. As soon as the train rolled out of Attari, Pakistani police in their clumsy-looking grey salwar-kameez marched up and down the vestibules, poking bags with their lathis. They wanted to know how much money we were carrying. Were we carrying pan pattas, Pan Parag supari and Taj Mahal tea bags? Bags were ordered to be opened and the policemen helped themselves to whatever took their fancy. They then turned into money-changers after warning passengers that Indian currency would be confiscated at Lahore.Suddenly the train came to a halt. We thought we had reached Lahore, but there were no buildings in sight. As if on cue, some men appeared from the bushes and received bags from the policemen. That done, the train slowly began the last lap of its journey to Lahore.My return journey after a two-week stay also had its moments. I had with me a bottle of Aristocrat whisky from Delhi since I knew alcohol would not be available in puritanical Pakistan. It had escaped the hawk eyes of the Pak police. Since it didn’t get consumed fully, it was with me on the way back. The young Customs inspector at Lahore ran his hand through the contents of my bag.”So you’re taking back almonds and pistas,” he remarked. Then he got excited. “Hey, what is this bottle for?” I explained that I had carried some whisky from India but was unable to consume all of it.“Don’t you know possession of alcohol in Pakistan is an offence?” he asked, threateningly. The best course for me now, he told me, was to give it to him as a present. I pointed out that it was the holy month of Ramzan. “Janab,” he replied, “that’s my problem.” I shook his hand, wishing him Eid Mubarak.There were very few passengers in the compartment I boarded. Its emptiness was filled with the wails of an old Muslim woman from Rampur. Between sobs she said, “These men have looted me. I had visited my sons and they had given me gifts. This lot took it all away.” At that point there was a jerk as the train started on its return journey.
