The strange saga of recurring war & peace

Looking at conflict through the words of poets and common people

- Nirupama Dutt

Mum, I don't like war: This was the title of a painting by one of the cherished artists of the city, Raj Kumar, when he witnessed the bombing in Dinanagar, near Gurdaspur in 1971. This is what came to mind as one heard sirens humming danger, blackouts spelling darkness in the four-day conflict that we witnessed between us and our neighbouring country, which, in spite of a sad and violent Partition of 1947, have yearned for one another and offered great hospitality to visitors from across the borders. Cricket matches have meant crossing the borders to watch the game we inherited from the British. We have yearned for chikan suits from Lahore's Anarkali Bazaar and they for par-varhi from Amritsar. They love the Indian film songs and we eagerly await their television serials. The Kartarpur Corridor became a happy meeting place for families who had lost one another in the mayhem of Partition, made possible by young YouTubers who brought together lost siblings. Peace activists on both sides have been holding conferences from time to time, bringing youths of the two countries together; friendships have been formed. In the west, both Indians and Pakistanis befriend one another as they come from a similar culture and speak the same language. Yet, when eerie sirens hiss through the dark, it seems all old ties and camaraderie are gone with the wind. What comes to mind are lines by late Sohan Singh Misha, our Jalandhar poet who broke out in verse at the surrender of arms by Amir Abdullah Khan Niyazi in the liberation of Bangladesh: 'Ajab hai eh dushmani dastan/ ghair nu dasiye te ho jaaye hairan/ terian phaujan ne jad merian Chauhan de agge si hathiar sutte/ Gile wargi gal si kujh rosh vi si/ Tu taan royea hovenga, rona hi si/ Mere kyoon athru si vagge'? (Strange is this saga of animosity; if we tell a stranger, he will be taken aback. When your