Past the swanky farmhouses with manicured lawns and huge gates in South Delhi’s Chattarpur, a road bending into a curve ends at the Asola-Bhatti Wildlife Sanctuary.
A treeless patch in the beginning of the sanctuary serves as a cricket ground for some boys. All of them speak the same language and are either playing for the Sindhi India team or the Sindhi Pakistan team. As per the rules of this particular gentleman’s game, the ball hitting the tents or beyond translates into a six, while the ball going into the pit means out.
The ‘boundary’ came up on the foothills of the Aravalis in the 1970s and has been growing since. Mud houses constructed haphazardly amid an ample number of tents with colourful tarpaulin covers comprise what is called the Pakistani Mohalla.
Shankar and his family arrived here last Friday from Rahim Yar Khan District of Punjab Province in Pakistan, leaving behind their homes, friends, livelihood and everything in between. No one heard a peep about his arrival.
Three days later on Monday, Geeta, a deaf and mute woman stranded in Pakistan for the past 15 years was accorded a warm welcome. So much so that even External Affairs Minister Sushma Swaraj welcomed her with a tweet: “Geeta - welcome home our daughter”.
Shankar was also, in a way, lost in Pakistan along with two million other Hindus living in constant fear. He left Pakistan in hope of a better life in India, to be welcomed with open arms and accepted in a secular land. Alas, things didn’t quite turn out that way.
Staying in his sister Nazeera Devi’s blue tent, Shankar is restless. There is no work for him and his visa permit expires in a month. He has been going to construction sites in the nearby areas with his brother-in law, but things haven’t materialised so far. The thought of going back scares him. “Pakistan is for Muslims. We don’t belong there anymore,” Shankar said.
Religious intolerance and the highly vitiated atmosphere have forced many Pakistani Hindus to cross the border, he added.
Nazeera and her husband Matlik crossed over nearly 18 years ago after their village in Pakistan’s Hyderabad was burnt down. However, they are yet to be called ‘Indians’. With no steady work his way, Matlik removes malba from construction sites and earns between Rs.100 and Rs.300 per day. They queue up outside the Pakistan Embassy every year for an extension when their visa expires.
“We pay around Rs.2,300 for each application every year,” claimed Meera, who has been in India for 18 years now. She has been to Khairpur in Pakistan twice since migrating here. “The situation of Hindus in Pakistan is very bad — no basic rights, no jobs and no education,” she adds. However, things here are not very different for her either.
The misery of these refugees living in Pakistani Mohalla, a ghetto that sprang up at the end of Sanjay Colony, has worsened along with the India-Pakistan rivalry. Untouched by time and development, Pakistani Mohalla remains the same decade years later.
There are no toilets, forcing the people to go to the forest to answer Nature’s call; there are no roads; women cook on firewood that children collect in the daytime; schools refuse to admit children born in Pakistan; the nearest bus stop is some 3 km away; there are no water pipelines or electricity and the residents suffer from a serious case of monkey menace due to proximity to the sanctuary. Most men find sporadic employment as labourers, earning less than Rs.500 one some days and zilch on others.
The refugees line up in the neighbouring Sanjay Colony for water as some houses allow them to take water for 20 minutes every alternate day for Rs.150. Fist fights over water are common and the loser goes home with empty drums and buckets.
“We asked for a borewell, but the contractor demanded Rs.18 lakh. He said he will have to drill more as the water table in this area is very low,” said Naju Ram, a mechanic.
“Because Pakistan is our place of origin and nationality on papers, we belong nowhere,” said Matlik, in a heavy Sindhi accent. Sindhi is still their first language and everyone, even the children born here, speak the language. Jirki, who works as maid, was born in India when her parents came from Pakistan’s Hyderabad in the 1970s. Her parents were among the first settlers of the area. Over 30 years old now, Jirki has never attended school and was married off while still a teenager. Her daughter is not educated either as schools refuse to admit her due to her Pakistani roots.
However, this and more hasn’t stopped people from Pakistan coming and settling here. Roshan came seven months back. Having studied till Class XII in Sukkur district of Sindh Province, he failed to qualify even for the job of a peon in the Pakistan government’s office.
“The discrimination against us is very blatant. We pay the price for being a Hindu there [in Pakistan].”
However, his Class XII education hasn’t helped him here either and he is forced to work as a labourer.
“They don’t recognise my education here [in India] as it is from Pakistan. We pay the price for being Pakistanis here .
