EMPATHY7:LOVE

“Sir, I really can’t help it. You have to share the waiting room with this gentleman from India. His flight is scheduled before yours. Then you can have the room to yourself. I really regret the inconvenience we have caused you Sir, but no one informed us of the delay of your connecting flight. I can only request you to cooperate with us for a couple of hours.” The duty officer of Universal Airlines was at his wits end trying to convince the privileged traveler from Pakistan, Lt. Major Hikmatullah, whose flight to Karachi had been delayed due to foul weather and had to wait in the waiting room with another passenger from India. The waiting room had already been booked by the Indian passenger, who was traveling from India to the Honduras via Abu Dhabi and had to spend a few hours at the airport before taking the connecting flight to his destination. With a disgruntled look on his face, Hikmatullah asked the name of the Indian passenger he had to share the waiting room with. Duty officer replied, “He is Mr. Chintan.” He then anxiously waited for Hikmatullah’s response, who merely grunted his consent while keeping his briefcase on the table and asked the Duty officer to inform him when it was time for him to board his flight to Karachi. The Duty officer nodding in consent thanked him and dashed out of the waiting room.

 Hikmatullah sat down on the sofa and recalled the name of the Indian passenger the duty officer had mentioned; Chintan. It reminded him of his childhood friend Chintan. His best friend and school mate. He had lost tab of him once Pakistan and India came into existence. Could he be that friend? No, how could it be? Anyway, he should not assume anything unless he meets this person. With that thought, Hikmatullah picked up a travel journal from the side table and began flipping its glossy and colourful pages.  He looked up from the magazine when he heard the room’s door swing open and an old gentleman in khaddar kurta and pajama walked into the room, leaning on his walking stick in his right hand and holding a small suitcase in his left hand. The gentleman placed the suitcase on the floor and beside a chair and lounged on the chair. Hikmatullah cleared his throat to attract the gentleman’s attention and addressed him. “Hello, I am Lt. Major Hikmatullah from Pakistan. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mr…”

“Chintan, I am Chintan Shyam from India, on my way to the Honduras to recuperate from TB. I am glad to meet you too Lt. Major Sir. If I may ask, were you on an official visit to this part of the world? ” The old gentleman smiled and replied to the army officer.

Hikmatullah rose from his seat, filled two tumblers with water and offered one to Chintan and sat down beside him to closely observe him and replied, “No, it was not an official visit…by jove! You are Chintan, from Lahore. You could not recognise me? I am Suleiman Hikmatullah, your neighbour from Mahasheyan da Mohalla.” He anxiously waited for Chintan’s response. Chintan looked blankly at the army officer and smiled at him. I think you have mistaken me with someone else Sir, I am Chintan Shyam from India.” Hikmatullah looked at Chintan’s hands withered with age and hard work and saw the tattoo of a flower and said. “I am sorry Mr. Shyam, if I have bothered you with my question, but could you tell me from where did you get this tattoo done?” Chintan raised his right hand and saw the tattoo at the back of his hand and said, “I do not remember. My mother must have got it done on me when I was an infant. Tell me Sir, what brought you here?”

Hikmatullah sipped water from the glass and replied, “I am returning to Karachi after visiting my daughter in London. My connecting flight is delayed due to bad weather so, I was asked to lunge here. Tell me Mr. Chintan, are you married? Does your family live in Honduras?”

Chintan sat up in the chair and replied, “I am married Sir. My family lives in India. I am visiting my nephew, who lives there.” He emptied the glass in one gulp and said, “Thank you Sir, I really needed the drink.”

Hikmatullah sat back in his chair and replied, “Mr. Shyam, we are of same age. Please do not address me as Sir. What about your wife and children?”

Chintan took a long breath and said, “Five years ago I lost my wife and we were not fortunate enough to be blessed with children. What about you Mr. Hikmatullah?”

Before Hikmatullah could assimilate Chintan’s response, he found himself replying to his question, “I am really sorry to hear about your wife, Mr. Shyam. About my family; my wife and son live with me in Karachi. My daughter has been blessed with a baby boy. So I visited them to see my grandson. You said you are visiting your nephew; do you have any brother or sister? What about your business or service back in India?” After throwing his question at Chintan, Hikmatullah keenly observed his reaction.

Chintan appeared unfazed by Hikmatullah’s query and plainly replied to him, “I am an orphan toddler wandering about aimlessly on the streets and this kind family adopted me. Their daughter is my sister and her son is my nephew. I worked as a clerk in a bank and last year I retired from service and then I was diagnosed to be suffering from bone TB.” Chintan looked at his wrist watch and with the help of his walking stick, heaved himself up from the chair. He picked up his suitcase and looked at Hikmatullah, “It is time for my connecting flight. It was wonderful meeting you Mr. Hikmatullah. I am sure you will have a safe journey back home. I wish you and your family all the very best in life.” Chintan slowly moved towards the door with the help of his walking stick and silently moved into crowd milling outside the door.

Hikmatullah stood rooted to his place, wishing against wish that Chintan would turn around and acknowledge him as his childhood friend. The flower tattoo his paternal uncle had done on his and his friend’s hand. How could he not recognise it! He wanted to tell Chintan, he and his sister owed their lives to his father, the late Mubarakchand. It was Chintan’s father, who had saved the two children from the hands of the blood thirsty mob seeking and killing all Muslims in the Hindu neighbourhood of Mahashian da Mohalla. For a week, the two siblings hid in the barn of the household. When they came out of hiding, they found the family had left the place. When they stepped out of the house, they were discovered by their paternal uncle, who had come with security personnel to rescue their family. The rest is history.  He rushed out of the waiting room to look out for Chintan, only to find the Duty Officer moving towards him.

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LOVE
OUR
VERY
ELEMENTS

तुम्हारा इंसानियत में विश्वास जगाती हूँ।
तुम्हे अपने पर यकीन दिलाती हूँ।
तुम्हे हवस, नफरत , इंतकाम की आग से बचाती हूँ।
तुम्हें मिलजुलकर खुश रहना सिखाती हूँ।
कबीर के दोहों की जान हूँ।
तुम्हारे सौहार्द्य, सम्मान, शांति का कारण हूँ।
तुम्हारे जीने का कारण बनती हूँ।
हर प्राणी का मूल मन्त्र हूँ।
बताओ मैं कौन हूँ ?
तुम बूझो , तो मैं जानूँ।