The worst fear comes true

THE news of the recent communal conflicts in Malerkotla, a historic town with a huge population of Muslims, saddened me immensely. More so because I cherish a close association with this enchanting town, where I studied for two years during my teens in the early 60s.

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Since our town did not have a college, most local high-school passouts with ‘high’ second division (first division being a rare phenomenon) would join college either in nearby Malerkotla or Sangrur. Both places were accessible by rail and road, then a half-hour journey. I, along with my peers, joined the Malerkotla college.

Even though I, being a daily commuter, had limited access to the town, it left an indelible mark on me. No wonder, I still dream of the extremely narrow lanes of the town. 

Here, many an imposing but crumbling architectural structure were erected with tiny bricks called  ‘Nanak Shahi’. The huge number of lined-up layers of these small bricks would provide the structures with an enticing historic look. I learnt that Dili Gate, an inviting majestic entrance to the town — from the railway station side — no longer exists. 

Apart from this old structure, the town, by now, must have undergone many more changes. For instance, ‘tongas’, the only mode available for local commuting and adding a luxurious ‘Lukhnavi’ touch to the town, faded into history soon after the authorities allowed (perhaps in the 70s) the plying of cycle-rickshaws.

However, this current wave of communal disharmony is both unbelievable and indigestible. For, since the days of Guru Gobind Singh, no such tension ever erupted in the town, a sort of holy region for all communities as it was blessed by the Guru himself.

During my college days, I had only one dear friend, a bright, well-built Muslim youth, Azhar Ali Khan. He was an all-rounder: a sportsperson, a debater, an actor and more. Apart from knowing a smattering of many foreign languages, he was an avid reader of history and geography. I owed much of my non-academic learning to him alone.

I remember he would answer the roll call in a different language or style every day! And would bring a smile to everyone’s face, including teachers.

During the turbulent times in Punjab, a renowned historian delivered at Chandigarh Museum’s lecture hall a passionate talk on the then situation in the state. She quoted the example of Malerkotla, describing it as a great symbol of communal harmony.

After the talk, while having a cup of tea, I approached her with a humble request, which she answered with a faint quizzing smile. “Ma’am, I request you to refrain from quoting the example of Malerkotla’s communal harmony in your future talks. I fear that once the shrewd politicians of the day learn about it, they can — being capable enough — bring this age-old brotherhood to a SAD end.” 

Sorry, my worst fear has come true — perhaps due to the SAD-BJP combine!