What I lost with Turban

Hard to Imagine how many changes I have seen into myself, not only have I seen myself growing from a kid to a young man and now I am looking for that sunset. The most drastic of all the changes was change in my personal appearance. I was 15 when I started wearing Turban, a symbol of honor and nobility, I used to feel very different and empowered, I was always more matured then my age and now when I speak I don't even recognise myself and often I am forced to ask myself a question.... Who are you? .....and that is the question I cant find an answer. it is not that I am not the same person I used to be but there is something which died in me with that Turban. Not that I was or am attached to my Turban but I always felt empowered and my presence made helpless and poor comfortable. Sikhs were always seen as protectors and saviors, though I was a little kid but lot older people especially women folk felt safer in the presence of a Sikh, Says this 55 year old Gurbachan Singh who had to cut his hair in 1984 to survive the Wrath of Hindu fundamentalists.
You in a Misty and fogy day may miss the Ifal tower but you wont miss a Sikh gentlemen if one is on the road. Sikh are given a very unique and distinctive look, which makes it harder for the Sikhs to hide or blend in the crowd, Thousands were massacred after the assassination of the Indian Prime Minister in 1984, just because they were different and could be identified because of their Turban. Many Thousand of Men women and Kids were done to death, their fault? they were born Sikhs and were wearing Turbans. (Subject is too painful to touch).
The definition of Sikh is Saint and a solider does not fit that well in the modern world which has designated law enforcement agencies but 500 years ago Sikhs provided a sigh of relief to all those who were tossed around or converted to Islam by force. Sikhs fought 100 plus years as a Solider and Saint not against Islam but the fanaticism of few who were hell bent to convert every one to Islam. Sikhs fought when they had no option but to protect the rights and life of poor and helpless. Being Saint and Soldier they not only fought the enemy but also provided them water and attended to their wounds, as most of the enemy were fighting under orders of the fanatic ruler of the Era.
I grew up in a place where Sikh population was next to nothing, with 98% of Muslim population, it was an interesting way of life. Whenever in market or in school, people could not stop looking at you and I always felt may be I was too good looking that people cant take their eyes of me, little did I knew that It was how I looked was interesting for the 98% of the population.  I am used to people looking at me differently but recently especially after the failed New York attack I am getting lot more attention and gaze then I anticipated.

Hard to Imagine we all look so much similar but still we are miles apart when it comes to how we feel. Recently I have been noticing that lots of eyes following me for good or bad, I can't help to smile at them and I question myself why am I conscious? why does this bother me?
Though I have meet few kind souls since the failed attack in New York, their eyes follow me in nooks and corners but after my pale smile they are left with no option but to smile back, it fills my heart with Joy that you don't differentiate a person by their skin or looks but by their deeds and few just walk away. I grew up as a minority in a places which was 98% Muslims and 2% Hindus, Sikhs and Christian and being born into a Sikh family you were always different then others, You are taught to live to the expectations of all others and help anyone who needs it. This act of generosity and care might freak out few especially in West,  why are you doing this? what you want?.. nothing really this is how I was brought up would be a chocked response, well you learn and adopt to live under circumstances but few appreciate who get to know you.

I remember as a child whenever I traveled by Bus I felt if I was the only protector of helpless and week and often we will hear that a Sikh around makes surroundings comfortable, even the Muslim women felt safer in presence of a Sikh then the people of their own religion.
I remember visiting a village which was few miles away from the major city but kids in the locality had never seen a Sikh before, some one who wears turban, it was a caravan of little boys chasing our motorcycle and calling others come see a Sikh ..... it was little awkward but when we stopped and said hello and they said how they felt that the Sikhs were the protectors and I myself was a little kid and I felt very empowered that I was a protector? that day onwards I sort of grew out of the childhood and became a matured man despite being a nine year old.
I tried to follow what others expected of a Sikh, turban a sign of honor and symbol of a protector always reminded me of what was expected of me rather what I wanted to do. Some times someone might praise you to the heights of the sky and then you wont be able to find way back to the reality that is what happened with me, but know if you are wearing a turban, it might take you many hours to get out of the airport, it took me fours to get out of the Honolulu Airport.
No one to blame but the circumstances and most of the people who issue threats wear Turban (Taliban) but these two turbans have no relation whatsoever.

A road to Hell...... If exists

"Two Christian women were beaten up and publicly humiliated by an angry mob in this city apparently over allegations of frivolous religious sacrilege.

The roughing up of the family forced them to go into hiding for fear of being killed, and the fresh incident as the country is yet to recover from the assassination of outspoken governor Salman Taseer for his support to Christian women Aasia Bibi in jail on blasphemy charges".

Iqbal in one of his Poems had said if there is a heaven it is Kashmir, it is Kashmir, It is Kashmir!!!
Today if I have to write Poem on Pakistan it would be "If the Hell exists it is in Pakistan, it is in Pakistan, It is in Pakistan"
If there is a hell....... Pakistan is headed that way and unfortunately there is no one who has the courage or determination to bring Pakistan back to Pakistanis. The recent beating of a Christian women and her mother, who was beaten black and blue by thousands of men women and children tells the story of modern days barbaric Pakistan. The fault of the women is that she married a Muslim man who watched as a mute spectator when his wife was kicked and slapped by thousands of fanatics over the allegations of frivolous religious sacrilege, despite the plea of mother and daughter that they were innocent, there was no ear who could listen them and no tongue who can support them, they were garlanded with shoes, their faces blackened and paraded on the streets. I wonder what kind of society is this? I have nothing against Pakistan but I worry for the people who are not radicals but have to toe the line of fanatics. Unfortunate part is that the men and women who violated the rights of a Christan women and her mother are hailed as heroes by media and no action has been taken against them by the Pakistani administration. I am sure if hell exists it is in Pakistan.
Governor of Pakistani Punjab was assassinated last week by his own bodyguard, His fault? He tried to save the honour of a Christian women who was lodged in a jail for blasphemy charges or something similar. Radicals were hell bent to teach Governor a lesson for his support to a Kafir (one who is not Muslim). I guess it was loud enough that none from Pakistan had courage to offer prayer at Governors burial and the poor fellow was just dragged and dugged in the ground with a proper burial. I remember when India and Pakistan went to war over the Kargil Issues many Pakistani soldiers were killed in combat but India instead of throwing their bodies on the hilltops or in rivers provided them a proper burial as per the Islamic Law.
I wonder how evil this Governor was that not even a one person had the courage to defy the diktat of the fanatic Mullah's. Pakistan is now  a nation of Taliban and fanatics, but once upon a time it used to be a nation of artists, inventors and creators, a nation which had pride in its rich culture and attiquates is now the epicenter of terrorism. All the incidents related to terrorism in anywhere in the world is most often traced back to Pakistan.
Pakistan which is neck deep in murky waters of corruption,lawlessness and terrorism, some even refer to it as the exporter of hate and terrorism which is not neccessarly true but one wonders what is lies ahead for Pakistan. A nuclear state ready to fail? or a disaster ready to happen, it is not only India which is concerned about the fate of Pakistan but all other neighbors and Europe as well. A nuclear state in the hands of fanatics is a deadly recipe which every one would like to avoid. I am starting to wonder if the Marshall law is the fate of Pakistan? History is witness that none of the elected governments were in in control at any time, right from Zulfikar Ali Bhutto to Nawaz Shrif and now the Armani Clad Prime Minister of Pakistan or the famous center of corruption President Zardari.

Taliban which was the creation of Pakistan (ISI) and the CIA to combat the might of USSR in Afghanistan is a mad dog which is after the life its master and is largely responsible for Pakistan's pathetic condition. Today's Pakistan is the Nation of religious fanatics and warmongers but I wonder what happen to torch bearers of Peace (who have nothing to do with the religion).
Pakistan which was known for the legendary artists like  Iqbal, Noor Jehan, Begum Akhtar, Ghlum Ali, Mehndi Hassan and many more. it was once a centre of culture and antiquities is now known as the epicenter of terrorism.
I always had high regards for the Pakistani culture despite the fact that history was not in favor of the Muslim Nation. The famous saying goes "wounds heal with time" and it was few decades after the 1947 and some of the barbaric stories I had heard were fading, the positive attributes of human nature forces us to look forward instead of  the past, but the recent incidents in Pakistan bring back all those faded stories right in front of my eyes as if the history is repeating itself.
Pakistani Military is playing a Major role in deciding the fate of that nation, even now though it is a democratically elected government but it is the Military which makes the policy. it is the compulsion of the Pakistani Military leadership or the fear of USA retaliation that they are not imposing the Marshal law in that country otherwise Pakistani military especially General Kyani has all the good reasons to impose Marshal law to tackle the law and order in Pakistan. General Kyani has the ability to control the mess and he might be able to bring Pakistan back to a Nation of somewhat stable people.

I cant find words in Poetry which to express my Poet in me but may be at a later stage, I will be able to express something about the Iqbal's Nation, who left India for a better Pakistan.

One More Life Please...........

What would you if you were given another life to live? or you were given a rewind your life back, where would you start from? Yeah I  know it is quite complex question and comes with complicated answers, but do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had the power to rewind back?
I met a gentlemen who lived a very pious life of 70 years, had no regretts whatsoever from life but when I asked if he had the chance to rewind back where would he like to start from? I could see a shiny glare in his eyes, the old faded memories were dancing on his eyelids. " I would like to see my Childhood my Mother Father and those innocent days" He said. Was he still a kid inside I thought. He was content in life but he missed opportunities in life which would have brought him lot of wealth and somewhat happiness because he would have been in position to leave a large inheritance for his children. Though he claimed to be content and happy but the reality was that he was far from it.
My quest to find answer to this question has gotten me in trouble many a times but I am curious and you pay some price for your curiousity. I thought people who have dedicated themselves to Meditation and God might have an answer for me so I went to a Yogi (People who have detached themselves from all earthly possesions). I said you must be very Happy Swami Ji (Holly Man) flying came the reply Happy my Ghanta.......(it is an indian slang I rather not translate). I was speechless, was not sure what to say and how to begin, but I started why are you not Happy Swami Ji, He was not happy because people were not paying him his due respect, he has been meditating for 40 years and at this end of his life people think he was a begger. He was not happy with the treatment as it was hurting his ego. Do you have an ego? Are not you detached from all of it or above all of it? I guess not, He worshiiped whole of his life but lost to his ego.
I met a man who had made millions and was very proud of it  for most of his life except the tale end of his life when he was  ready to depart, my questions increased the lines of his forhead and he Said" I will start over again, I will undo all those things which my soul is burdened off". He made lots of money but not all of it was ethical or not all of all was his money. He was wondering why he had to resort to those acts in life, the kids he raised were not near him or they did not care about him or was he too busy making deals and lost track of bonding with his children? What do I know but my interaction with this Holly man who was very sane and respected for his knowledge sacrifice and devotion to the religion, He was a strong desiple of Hunuman (Monkey God), He has taken a Vow never to have a relationship with a women raise a family or wealth, Upon my enquiring he was very happy in life, had no Issues with money, was happy without family but only thing he yearned about was a women body, He missed Sex so much that he would day dream about it. I was happy to know that he spoke from his heart and I am a strong believer if these things were not ment for you the Creator would not have created desire for it. Right?
In Sikisim (sikhnet.com) empisis is on to stay away or clear from Kam (Lust) Krodh (Anger) Loab (Greed) Moh (Attachemnt) Ahnkar (Pride), these are the five components if you can control you might be able to achive Nirwana (Peace at the end of Your Journey). This does not mean you dont have to have all the beautiful things in life, you can have them but not be attached, you can have them but not be greedy, you can have them but still be humble, you can substitute anger for love and the lust part is you can enjoy it but only if it comes out of love not Lust.
Happiness does exist and it begins with you, we all have flaws but they are all for your good, if people think you are not good looking trust their is something wrong with their eyes, because ceator created you beautiful, If people think you are beautiful, it is just skin deep, be happy and humble about it, real beauty lies inside of you!! If you are poor dont let it bother you not one would take anything to the other world except the good deads, If you are rich use it for the betterment of the humanity because you can't take with you either. Be detached and if it is your it will come back to you. Being postive in life helps, learn to trust every one unless they give you reason not to trust them.
These were some of the lessons I have learnt from my curiousity but I am still lost in all those questions and have no real answer, when I find that might have attaind command over one attribute I find myself lost on the other same way the Holly mans Day Dreams!!!!!

हज़रून ख्वाशीन एसी की हर खाविश पे दम निकले !

बहौत निकले मेरे आरमान  लेकिन फिर बी कम निकले!!

Curious George Reminds me.....

Though I have always been found of Cartoons and the favorite till day are Tom & Jerry. Recently I had the Opportunity to see Curious George, it brought back my childhood memories. Curiosity is something I am born with, rather blessed with from my childhood. Watching Curious George, who is a Monkey and comes out of every situation harmless was a instant tour of my past. Curious George manages to teach kids a lesson but I was not as lucky as this Monkey. I remember the price I had paid for my curiosity and feel lucky that my curious nature has not pushed me over the edge, well....... it still exists and who knows when....
I was seven years of age, but It always felt like if I was 25, which I clinged on to for a while till my wife kept reminding me that I have passed 25 a while ago, but I still feel no older then 26.

It was a sunny bright day and I was on summer vacation with my grandparents, they had lots of cows and all kind of exotic animals. They all lived harmoniously in a large cattle house, it was nothing like a shed but a large bungalow subdivided into different zone which I enjoyed visiting every evening as a ritual to say good night to all of them.
I was found of a bull who was just two years old, I had seen him previous year when he was born but now he was little big bull, I thought he was my friend.
It was early morning and the grazers were getting ready to take the cattle out for Grazing.
I had been insisting to walk the Little Bull, every one advised  me against it but I was curious. Why they do not want me to hold the rope of the Bull?  They all had to give up in front of my unbending curiosity, so they roped the little bull and told me to hold on to the rope tight and walk along. I was excited, happy and was feeling a real cow boy, but my Imaginary world came crashing down as son as the little bull took off; I am not sure what happen to the little bull but he started running, the rope was in my hand but a large part of it was still on ground around me. I had all the plans to use my muscle power to stop the bull but before I could use my hands and shoulder power to pull the rope I saw my legs going forward and up in he air, the rope was entangled around my legs, now it was scene from a classic comedy, little bull was running and I was not running after, but was being dragged right behind, this little bull went through the whole village robbing me of my dignity and curiosity. Finally I got out of the entanglement but not before loosing back of my shirt along with some skin and the back of my pants was completely missing.
To my surprise whole village was behind be in solidarity, they were really concerned but could not stop laughing, I want to laugh too but I was in quite a bit of pain form all the bums and pebbles on my way.  I was too proud to admit that I was hurting, so I picked myself  to a big laughter, I tried to check my wallet in the back pocket, there was no pocket... hmmmm I swear I had pants on but now just the front... so some one handed me a Shawl (A large piece of cloth) to rap around. After hearing the exciting adventure one of my uncle who came running behind carried me and took me to the doctor and I was instructed not to sit properly for at least a month, so I had the chance to see the world from a different angle/ perspective.
Now when I am a father, It gives extra precaution alarming bells when my little one tries to pull a Curious George one me!
May be curious George would remind me some others similar incidents in near future and I can write them down In case my curiosity knocks me over the edge in future then my son would enjoy reading some of it.

A Tale of Two Nations

Not sure why am I missing my Grand mother, May be the rainy day forces me to think of things which often a bright sunny day takes away from you!!
My Grandmother was kind and wonderful women! she has seen tough days in her life, especially when Pakistan was carved out of India, many people know it as a partition of India Pakistan which begin after the British Empire was some what forced to leave India. People were Happy!!! after all it was freedom after many Centuries (Little they knew that they will become slaves to politicians). My Grandmother who lived in a village was very happy to know that finally freedom was on their way, She was a young women with three children eldest being 6 years and youngest a year Old, mood was jubilant every where. Joy came with a limited life as the Gossip was that Muslims were demanding a separate Nation of their own.
Kashmir being the center of Civilization where people from different religions lived for centuries without much religious and cultural differences, in fact their culture begin and ended with Kashmiriat which had no room for violence. It was all going to end, as the religion has taken over the cultural heritage of Kashmir and Muslims (not all) were blood thirsty for any one who was not a Muslim so the saga of Murders, rape, Arson begin with a large contingent of Kabali (Tribals from West Pakistan) assisted by the newly formed government of Pakistan, advanced to capture the Valley of Kashmir. They had clear instruction to invade it any cost and the cost for this was the lives of Innocent women, children and helpless parents. 
My Grandfather was in India Army and was posted in Srinagar which is little over 100 miles away from the villagee,  there was no connectivity by road, My Grandfathers Brother packed all of his family and loaded them on the horses and left for Srinagar, My Grandmother had gone to fields as usual  and by the time she got back half of the village had left for the safer destinations, She was disoriented and did not knew what to do as all the males of the immediately family were gone with all the valuables, she was left with 2 children, a Year old and a Three year old. Few villagers who were still there with a hope that everything was going to be alright but soon they discovered that large groups of Sikhs (sikhnet.com) were coming down the Hills and moving towards Srinagar, They were warning everyone to pack and move as the Tribals have started killing all the Sikhs on their way and they were the lucky ones who could save their lives, they shared the sob stories of their survival as Tribal were not only looting their properties and wealth but also raped young and old alike, some Sikhs fought for their pride but were done to death while the rest were sent on horse backs to inform the Sikhs on the way to head to safer places.
After listening this almost all the villagers decided to Pack and head towards Srinagar  including my Grand mother. She was carrying two children and tracking hills to save her two little ones. Being a women and weak she was not able to keep up with group so every group kept passing her. She remembers and mentioned that those were said the terrible days, " People wanted to help you but they were helpless as every one was trying hard to save their loved ones" she mentioned that a group of Sikhs who came face to face with Tribal on a hillock fought them furiously but they were too few and just had few swords against the guns, so they were all chopped to pieces and the women and girls were raped and killed, My grandmother was fortunate to slide of a large hill to save herself and two kids. She was lost had little sense of direction, was hungry, kids were thirsty, she kept walking following the stars and moon.  She mentioned that her 3 year old was very wise and would walk a little but walking miles and miles was a daunting job for those little legs, so my grandmother had to carry both of them, she walked she ran without rest whole evening and night.
She finally found a group of people next to the bank of a river resting from the all day and night walk, she was relived she went towards the river on reaching the bank she found it to be steep so she told her 3 year old to hide behind the bush and not move till she gets back with the water. She went down to quench her thirst but her heart to stopped to the familiar cries, it was group of Kublai Muslims along with locals who attacked the tired and resting group, all were killed except few who were left dead but woke up with hand or limbs, She was scared for her 3 year old who was hiding right above the clif, she knew he was very obedient and she will find him right behind the Bush after all the Mehim was over.
She gathered her courage to come out of the river, she saw bodies of men and women chopped into Pieces some were still alive without arms and legs while the rest were headless. she started looking for her son behind the bushes but could not find him anywhere, she stayed whole night looking for him in the same area. She searched all the dead bodies to see if the three year old was killed by the hate mongers, In the process she found a five year old and a three year old sobbing girls who were sitting right next to the dead bodies of their parents.

My Grandmother was tired of looking for her son and finally decided to head on towards Srinagar to save 1 year old son and two girls who were left behind. She kept tracking despite the fact she was hungry thirsty and carrying almost three kids and all alone. On her Journey towards safety and peace she saw an old Muslim man, it was early in the morning and she started crying knowing that this would be the end of all of them, she had almost surrendered but to her surprise the Muslim man took her to a vegetable field and told her to hide there for the day time or she along with kids might get killed. He was helpless to provide her any food but told her she can eat any amount of vegetables and fruits from the field. He was sympathetic and regretted what people were doing on the name of religion.  My grandmother along with three kids hid themselves inside the hay, they could see groups of looters moving towards Srinagar, it was understood they were going to take over Kashmir from the Princely state of Jammu and Kashmir. They were all hungry but survived on green vegetables and water, whenever 1 year old was crying she would close his mouth. They made it through the day and started their journey to the safe city or Srinagar. She tracked whole night all by herself along with the kids and made it to Srinagar.
My Grandfather was waiting and he had almost lost the hope of her survival as almost every one else has reached Srinagar and no one had seen my Grandmother on their way. Millions of people were killed so it was obvious to loose hope.
She barely made it to Srinagar where Indian Army was stationed to receive all the refugees, seeing them she felt safer and collapsed, My grandfather was there and he took her to relatives home in Srinagar. My Grandfather never asked her about the Three year old but when my Mom was born they named her after the three year old.
I remember she always had his name on her tongue, even she would call me by his name, she had to correct herself almost everyday, she never forgot about her son though many decades have passed. whenever she started sharing that story she would cry after every 10 minutes, she was never able to tell the whole story but it came in bits and pieces. I grew up with those memories but I never saw hate in her heart for any Muslim.
Once I asked her Granny How come you are so kind to all these workers (who were all Muslims) she replied I wonder if Kulla (her son) is still alive and converted to Islam by People who saved him?
She lived a happy life of 85 years with a nail in middle of her heart which was the Gift of India and Pakistan to Millions of People who lost their loved ones in the hateful air of Partition.
She would always say if her son is alive he be 60 years old he would have his own kids, I wish I can see him just once and tears roll down her eyes. She made sure to celebrate each of his birthday by Distributing sweets in the temple. She never had desire to go back to the area where she lost her beloved son but she always went there with a hope that may be he will be still there even when she was 80, almost 55 years after the partition.
This is just a lonely story of my grandmother there are hundreds and millions of such untold stories which were never told. I hope all those who could not live together in this world because of the religious differences can live in the other world with peace and Harmony.

Down the Memory Lane

Once the most respected and beloved singer of Urdu Gazal Mehdi Hassan Khan who was born in India and became part of Pakistan after the partition on 1947 but he was always a beloved singer in both countries, He not only contributed to the advancement of Urdu language but also infused soul into the poetry of legendry and ordinary alike. I have seen him when you wish if you could just sit in front of him and listen to his soul jolting poems, but it was not that easy... thanks to the advancement of Media, we were always able to see him perform and of course his albums were in plenty. He struggled hard from his early age for the recognition.  I wonder if he was not found we would have lost a legend in the dark allies of Karachi but thanks to Radio Pakistan who gave him a chance to sing and that lead to where poem lovers not only from India Pakistan but the likes of me who live on the remote Islands treasure his music.


My mentor and Teacher Prof. Jagan Nath Azad who was a authority on Urdu poems had mentioned that we write poems but Mehdi provides it soul to soar the heights of unimagined. Jagan Nath Azad who wrote the National Anthem of Pakistan was born in India but now Pakistan had to move to India because of the communal divide but was very much part of the Pakistani existence and culture, He lived in India but his heart was always in Pakistan.

Today when I heard of Mehdi Hassan Khan losing his memory it forces me to think even legends like Jagan Nath Azad and Mehdi Hassan has very limited time in this world, I have seen him when he was in his 40’s though I was kid but I still remember he had a full head of hair and then slowly with each season it all went downhill and the latest is that he can’t even recognize who Mehdi Hassan is or has sang that beautiful gazal but he sure does enjoy the soulful music of his own. He might not be around for a while but his contribution to Urdu and Urdu lovers will stay as long as our memories.

जीकर आया है फिर ज़माने मैं
सूचून लेख डे न फसाने मैं
याद आता नहीं  के मैं क्या हूँ
बस के बजती शमा हूँ इस फसाने  की

Safarnama (A journey...............to nowhere)

I had the chance to witness a beautiful wedding on the beautiful Islands of Hawaii, a Muslim girl from Pakistan marrying a Hawaiian native, though they may have many differences but one thing common was the love! the essence of the universe and the creation, though I was enjoying every moment of the wedding but I could not help to think about those little little who were barely able to walk when I left Kashmir and now they guided to the path of revolt and destruction by the elders of the community. Kasmiri's were always hospitable people but for some reason they were divided on the name of religion, it was very rare to see a cross cultural cross religious marriage in Kashmir, this would not be an acceptable practice no matter how much two individuals were in love with each other, in other words one has to be careful who he are she can fall in love with. I remember a Sikh Gentlemen who was in love with a beautiful Kashmiri girl and the family was moderate and had no objection to the marriage but the only condition they had was that he had to convert to Islam, but when boy refused to to that, he was told that at least he has to pretend in front of the relatives so they were not thrown out of the society or Kashmir, guy agreed to the arrangement after all he wanted to marry her, so they got married in a private ceremony outside of Kashmir and the rummer was that he converted to Islam and they are happily married, now the problem was relatives wanted to see the new converted groom who still had his turban and unshorn hair, cant be Muslim at least one has to look like a Muslim to pretend being a Muslim but being a Sikh you cant pretend to be a Muslim unless you live in Iran (they somewhat look like Sikhs)! Well girl was able to pursued the husband to cut his hair for her sake, so the hair went off but he still had a turban as he did not wanted his family to be excommunicated by the Sikh society he was pretty much out of the fripane and into the fire, but they had strong love for each other so he will leave home very quietly wearing a turban and sneak inside the home when none of the relatives were around, most of the time they would call each other to make sure no new relative (problem) is at home, they were able to run this show for a month and one day Dr. Singh is returning home but as soon he reaches home Ms. Khan is running around like a Dora fish making sure no one inside sees him with turban on, so finally Mr. Singh shows up and expects Ms. Khan to Open the door, as soon as the door opens Mr. Singh turban goes flying into neighbors yard, He is surprised! wife is no angry then why this? she whispers we have relatives inside, now he gets the picture, so he walks inside the home and greets every one and seats down every one has a question for him and why your skin is two tan on the forehead? Da.... he wears turban but they don't know that so made and excuse and started talking about politics and how beautiful Kashmir is etc stc. but again bell rings and neighbor walks in without invitation with a turban.." I think your turban fell down in our Yard"..... I still imagine what it would be like to be in that situation! but they are happily married and live south India, Dr. Singh wears his turban and Ms. Khan is still Ms. Khan never changed her name or religion so people can live together love each other and religion should be a medium to unite not divide, but any way I was happy to see a couple who could live happy ever after despite being two different backgrounds, amazing part of the wedding was that the God Mother of the Muslim girl was a Jewish women, Imagine what people would think of it in Kashmir? This wedding was the perfect example of that we are created equal human beings but divided by the religion or society. I could not notice to see the tears in the eyes of God Mother who despite had no blood or religious relations still loved her like a daughter.
It reminds me of a beautiful Poem: