The life of Lie!
82 year old Inderjit lived in a
village, close to the city of Jaipur. He portrayed himself as humble, honest
trader, which indeed he was. He was respected as a Village elder. His family of
one son and a daughter, their spouses and their 4 children, (each son was blessed
with two children) were spread out across the country, well placed, in
government jobs, and followed his lead in every way. They were hard working, good parents, good
citizens and honest people serving their families and their country.
Although he was respected, he was
also a mystery to many, as he was a man of few words, especially after his wife
died 10 years ago of cancer, after suffering for five years.
Life in Pakistan
What his fellow citizens didn’t
know, was that he had lived the first half of his teenage life in Pakistan, in Lahore,
Pakistan, and crossed over on August 15th 1947, at the tender age of
14.
In Lahore, he was known as Abdul,
and he had lived with his parents and a younger sister. Abdul as a young boy spent
more time at his neighbour’s, Uncle Sarabjit's house than in his own. He had his
own reasons. His father was a strict and severe man, who brooked no opposition.
He was conservative and obsessive about rituals and would not allow him to
speak unless spoken to. As a result, to him, his house was a quiet mausoleum,
with hardly a word spoken, love not evident and as he went into his teenage
years, he was getting increasingly desperate for a little love and attention.
This desire manifested itself in pranks at school and spending more and more of
his free time at Uncle Sarabjit's house next door. Here he found, laughter,
love and attention from both Uncle and Aunty. They treated him as one of their
own, with no difference between him and Uncle’s two sons, younger than him by
two and four years.
Interestingly, Uncle Sarabjit and
his father had the best of relationships, and they often they visited each
other, sitting in the drawing room and discussing a variety of subjects over a
cup of tea. Many a time they disagreed on issues, and the discussion became
heated, anger was never evident. Discussions generally heated up over the two
state theory and the alternatives to it.
Abdul the prankster
Abdul, entered his teenage years,
as a mischievous boy. He used, perhaps
unconsciously, notoriety, to attract attention and he earned this through his
share of pranks at school. Whenever he was hauled over the coals, he had learnt to
lie his way out of it, fearing that telling the truth would get him into severe
trouble with his school and his father. But, the regular, punishments, being
whipped, being grounded, nothing could stop him from pulling a prank.
One such prank, was putting
talcum powder just near the board, knowing that the teacher of moral studies
was a teacher who taught using drama. He would prance around the board, acting
out his stories. On that particular day, he slipped, and fell squarely on his
buttocks. He suspected that what he thought was chalk powder was really talcum
powder, because he got the whiff of perfume, when he squatted.
He immediately suspected that it
was the work of Abdul, and called him up to the principal’s office, and tried
to whip the truth out of him, but failed, as Abdul maintained he knew nothing. That
day, however, the Moral education teacher had had enough. He told him that he
would learn to tell the truth always, no matter the consequences, the hard way.
The teacher called up his father
and told him the story of the talcum powder.
Abdul's father was livid. He came home and searched for Abdul. Abdul was
nowhere to be seen. He called out to him repeatedly but failed to find a
response. He questioned his wife and daughter but they were too scared for him
to reveal his location. It was then that
a crowd shouting anti India slogans, came rampaging down the street and
silenced him.
The shift to India
Abdul meanwhile, still in uniform
was, as his wont, playing a popular game of those times - lagori with his
siblings from a neigbour, in the back yard of their home, when they heard a
crowd shouting.
At the call of the head of the
house, all of them ran into the house, in fear. Uncle Bikramjit, who was a
cloth merchant in Lahore, then quickly locked the door. He was scared, as was
Abdul, and the rest of the family. Bikramjit told his wife and two sons,
Sarabjit and Ranjit to hide behind the sofa as he peeped out of the window.
As the crowd passed, it went
dark, and began to rain, (the monsoon had already begun). Uncle Sarabjit made
up his mind to shift to India. He had been contemplating this move for some
time and had even discussed it with Abdul’s father, who advised him to take the
path less trod. They packed a few belongings and under the cover of darkness
they began to move.
They urged Abdul to go home and
keep quiet about their plans. Abdul was confused. He felt lost. He had no love lost for his
home. He did love his mother and sister,
who was five years younger than him, but he realized that as long as his father
was around, there would be no hope for a life of the kind he dreamed off –
filled with love and laughter. Not that
his father did not love him. But he was made like that.
He made up his mind. Uncle he
said, can I come with you?. Uncle was
stunned. He said how can you come? All
Muslims in India are coming here. “Please uncle” he pleaded. I can’t stay here.
Please take me as your son. I am ready to do anything.
Uncle Sarabjit was a
compassionate man. He was torn between
his duty towards his neighbor, the anguish on the child’s face and the
conditions he would likely face when he went to India. His wife sealed his internal debate. She
said, “Sarabjit, he is like our own. Let’s take him, if he wants to go”. They knew, that depite his love for his
family, he was not very happy at home, and he was more comfrortable with them.
Their compassion for the child, won the day. Quietly they slipped out into the
night.
Meanwhile at Abdul’s house, his
mother watched from the window, but didn’t utter a word. His father searched
all over for many days, but then gave up in disgust, relating his disappearance to the prank he had played
at school.
The journey to India was an eventful
and a learning experience, as he saw bloodshed at close quarters, yet missed
the knife, understood the depth of feeling of either side, and realized how
caught he was in between.
His adopted family protected him
always, giving him the name Inderjit. Following their customs was not really a
challenge as he had grown up with them and gradually he became one of them,
integrating so well, that none suspected that anything was amiss. He was the first to leave school and help his
uncle, whom he now called Father, in his clothing business which he set up in
Amritsar, but as he grew older, he fell in love, separated and moved to a
village near Jaipur after, marrying into a Rajastani family, where he became a
small civil contractor and trader of hardware items.
No one suspected that he was who
he was, not his children, not his wife. The only persons who knew his
background, were his adopted family, and
of them, Uncle Sarabjit and his wife had passed away within months of each
other many years ago, while his step brothers were abroad. They rarely kept in touch, each busy with
their own live.
Learning his lesson
One day in the early 1970’s a few years after the 1965 Indo-Pak War, two men approached him,
while he was at his hardware shop, and informed him that they knew his real
identity, and would expose him, if he did not cooperate with them. They
informed him that his family in Pakistan, was safe and well even though his
father had passed on. His sister they told him was now working for Pakistan
Intelligence, after joining the Pakistan Air force, and it was at her
insistence, that this visit had become a reality.
He felt proud of them, and did feel a momentary pang
of regret, which was replaced with love, but he was always grateful to adopted
country and family for the life he had had which he felt was fulfilling in
every way. At first he thought of
committing suicide, for he didn’t know which way to turn. He rued what had come
to pass, and remembered the last words of his Moral Science teacher. But, he
also thought of his current family and wondered how they would cope in his
absence. He had no thought for himself.
He decided he would go with the
flow and see where it would take him – as just another prank. He reluctantly became a spy. He felt he did not have a choice, and as the lie had already become a way of life…
What’s one more?
He had access to the local
military base as a small contractor, and gradually he passed on lots of
information and sometimes even military plans that he would photograph while
inside the complex. He hated what he was
doing, but he consoled himself that he was doing it for his family.
His life was now one big
lie. He was Abdul and yet he was not. He
was Inderjit and yet he was not. He was honest and yet he was not. He was
loving and compassionate and yet he was not.
He was constantly reminded day in
and day out about what his moral education teacher told him the day he fell on
his buttocks – He would learn to tell the truth the hard way. And in the end he did… when a chance
encounter with the airforce personnel on the base resulted in his arrest and
interrogation.
Disclaimer: This is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents
are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.
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