A few years after the partition, the governments of India and Pakistan decided that not only ordinary prisoners but also patients in mental hospitals would be divided between the two countries. Based on that decision, the legendary writer Saadat Hasan Manto wrote a classic story, ‘Toba Tek Singh’.
The central character of the story is Bishan Singh. This man, who had been in a mental asylum for many years, would ask everyone the same question, ‘Where is Toba Tek Singh? In Pakistan or Hindustan?’ Because, Toba Tek Singh was his village, his identity, his roots.
The day he was supposed to cross the border into India, he asked the same question. An official replied, ‘To Pakistan.’ Hearing this, Bishan Singh refused to cross the border. They tried to convince him that Toba Tek Singh was in India, while others said he was in Pakistan. But he did not budge. In the end, he stood on a nameless piece of land between India and Pakistan.
At the end of the story, Bishan Singh falls to the ground before the sun rises. India on one side, Pakistan on the other. Toba Tek Singh lies in the nameless land in the middle. There is rarely a more powerful symbolic narrative in the history of partition.
Even after seven decades, it seems that Bishan Singh is not dead. He lives on in the various borders of South Asia. Toba Tek Singh has become an embodiment of the people caught between the decisions of the state and the reality of the people.
Shasthi Chandra Barman, who was recently pushed back by the Indian Border Guard through the Bakshiganj border in Jamalpur, has been returned to his family. After confirming his identity, the BGB handed him over to his relatives. Shasthi Chandra has finally been able to return to his country. But can everyone?
In the last few weeks, tension has been building in various parts of the India-Bangladesh border over ‘push-ins’. In some places, people are stuck on the zero line of the border. They are unable to enter Bangladesh, nor are they able to return to India. Two states stand on either side of the barbed wire; some helpless people stand in the middle.Read more
Why is this scene of humanitarian disaster at the border?
Among these people are women, children, and the elderly. Many of their only crime is that they once crossed the border in the hope of a better life, in search of work, or to be with their families. In the eyes of the state, they may be ‘infiltrators’; but in reality, they are flesh and blood people with dreams, fears, and families.
When a child stands on the zero line between two countries, the question arises—is the state’s responsibility only to enforce the law, or is there a place for humanity as well? That child may not understand what is happening today. But who will answer the question of the kind of emotional scars this experience will create in his life?
People on both sides of the border have been connected by ties of kinship, culture and daily life for more than a thousand years. After the partition, barbed wire fences were erected, but human relations were not completely erased. Various social bonds such as language, culture, memory and kinship still connect the two Bengals.
Manto’s Bishan Singh is ultimately remembered not as a citizen of any country; rather as a symbol of the mutual hatred, mistrust and division created by ethnic groups. Today, when we look at the people trapped on the zero line of the border, that story comes to mind again. They may not be literary characters, but their reality is no less tragic than Toba Tek Singh.
Yet the reality is that when identity cards and legal status, not people, are at the center of border politics, people gradually turn from ‘citizens’ to ‘problems.’ Some become ‘burdens’, some ‘infiltrators’, some ‘security risks.’ But very few people try to see them as people.
The state certainly has the right to protect its borders. Illegal immigration, security, and due process are important issues. But it is also true that pushing people across borders without due process or leaving them in limbo on the zero line raises humanitarian questions.
If there is a genuine spirit of cooperation between two neighboring countries, then internationally recognized rules and a vetting process should be followed in the case of repatriation as well. Just as friendship among people is not a matter of show, it is subject to proof; the same is true when declaring a neighbor as a ‘friendly country’ over and over again, it is not in words, but through action when necessary.Read more
The politics of pushing people to the border in the dark of night
On the issue of border tensions over ‘push-in’ and lifting of travel and trade restrictions, newly appointed Indian High Commissioner to Bangladesh Dinesh Trivedi said, ‘India and Bengal share the same sky, same air, same pain. I don’t feel like I have come to Bangladesh. Whatever is best for these 160 crore people, 140 crore in India and 20 crore in Bangladesh, will be done. We will take steps that are best for both countries in the coming days.’
This statement by Dinesh Trivedi, who has been in politics for a long time and has recently taken up the role of a diplomat, has been criticized. On the other hand, when we think about the people, his statement also contains a message of hope for the citizens of both countries. However, that hope will be reflected in reality only when the people of the border are considered as human beings with dignity, not as subjects of political statements.
At a time of change in Bangladesh-India relations, Delhi has certainly understood this and sent professional politician Dinesh Trivedi as an envoy to Dhaka. If we want to improve the quality of relations, we need to think with our hearts rather than with our intellect towards our neighbors.
‘Push in’ is not limited to the law. Seeing the people on the zero line as just numbers or goals in the political arena undermines the dignity of the state. The people are one of the four main elements of state formation. If those people have to suffer, then it is necessary to think about whether the success of the state structure will be shaken or not.
Manto’s Bishan Singh is ultimately remembered not as a citizen of any country; rather as a symbol of the mutual hatred, mistrust and division created by ethnic groups. Today, when we look at the people trapped on the zero line of the border, that story comes to mind again. They may not be literary characters, but their reality is no less tragic than Toba Tek Singh.
The question is, will we learn to see them as people before their identity papers? Or will we allow them to one day become just another number in history?
The state structure stands on both sides of the border. Theoretically, the state has no heart, no compassion, no opportunity to be compassionate. It understands the encirclement of law, logic and diplomacy. But the citizens living within the state and the authorities at the top of the power structure have the responsibility to be humane. And one of the best ways to consider whether this humanity has passed the test or not is how the state and the common people behave towards the people trapped on the zero line.
- Sohag Mia, Journalist, Fact Checker Department, Prothom Alo
Opinions are the author’s own.
