Crossing Over: First Steps in Lahore

There are moments when borders feel like nothing more than ink on paper, flimsy scratches across a shared sky. Step across, and you realize: the air smells the same, the winds hum the same songs, and the people — they feel like long-lost cousins.

And so, as I stepped down from the van that had transported us from the Indian border to Lahore, believe me, I felt nothing alien. I felt the same vibe of being rooted, of belonging, of being born into a familiar world with familiar-looking people, a familiar-sounding language. Everything mirrored experiences I had already lived. But at the same time, there was a certain newness — because whether I liked to phrase it this way or not, I was across the border.

Meeting Noor: A Shy Smile, A Big Question

This was in 2024 when I visited Lahore for the first time for the Faiz Festival, held on Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s birth anniversary in February. I was very excited, yet a bit apprehensive too — because Pakistan is supposed to be an “enemy nation.” Stepping into the so-called enemy’s territory felt strange, even a little scary, though I’m not someone for whom borders or religions hold much weight. Still, I had mixed feelings.

I checked into a hotel with my fellow delegates, and it felt like any other hotel I had stayed at in my own country. The only surprise for me was that a girl came daily to my room for housekeeping. In India, we often see women working in the hospitality industry. However, being in an Islamic country, I had assumed there would be more male employees in Pakistan. But here was Noor, in her abaya, smiling shyly as she knocked on my door every morning.

She finally broke the ice one morning and asked me softly, “Are you from India?” When I said yes, she exclaimed, her eyes shining, “Oh! But you look just like us!”

And that statement got me thinking. Are we like them, or they like us? Aren’t we all alike? We come from the same roots, don’t we? It is strange and heartbreaking that a mere line drawn at somebody’s whim has divided us into two nations. We are the same — our countries, our weathers, our people. Everything is similar.

Echoes From Home: Trees, Forts, Old World Charm

I came across an ancient peepal tree in the premises of the Shahi Hammam in Lahore, and it looked just like one of the many in Amritsar. The rays of the sun filtering through its leaves makes similar patterns on the brick floor as they do in India. The same birds nest on its ancient branches and sing the same sweet, melodious songs. Even the chill of the February breeze at Lahore Fort reminded me of receding winters in Amritsar. The bricks, the tiles, the opulent murals — all echoed similar tales of love and valour.

The balconies of Lahore’s Androon Sheher are as quaint as those of my ancestral house in Lalawali Gali, Amritsar. Their alleys and shadows carry the same old-world charm. The tantalizing smell of tikkas and naans and halwa-poori drifting through these lanes intoxicate… just like the aroma of Amritsari kulchas.

Shared Culture, Shared Charm

While our girls are obsessed with Pakistani suits, their boys imitate Shah Rukh Khan and Ranbir Kapoor. While we boast of Lata Mangeshkar and Jagjit Singh, they brag about legends like Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Abida Parveen. We call it Hindi, they have named it Urdu — one is ageless while the other as sweet as seviyan — but both intermingle into dialects that sound almost identical. My Hindi words sounded like Urdu to them and I thought, “Wow! They speak good Hindi.” Where was the distance then?

You’d say, maybe people? But no.

They are not just similar; they are alike. They welcome you wholeheartedly — warmly, without abandon. They let you into their homes and hearts as if you are their own. They are beautiful, curious, God-fearing, just like us. We are the same in every way. We share the same set of values; we teach our children honesty and respect and faith.

Them and Us: The Border Within

And yet, this line — the “border” — separates us. It makes us unspeakable to each other, creating fear in our minds and suspicion in their hearts.

Them and Us.

We are like December and January. Moments apart, yet lifetimes away.

Sometimes, I wonder — if the winds on either side of the border can feel the same, if the food can taste familiar, if the laughter of children can echo alike, then why can’t we? Perhaps the true partition is not on maps, but in our hearts. And maybe, just maybe, it is within us to erase it.

What about you? Have you ever stood somewhere unfamiliar and suddenly felt completely at home?