A Pure Land

Chapter 1

She stood there, on the green grass, holding back tears. The only woman left in her family. Everyone had died; she had lived to endure these days of hatred alone. And now, as a final insult, she was burying her grandmother.

She had made all the arrangements herself, within a day. She didn’t want to delay anything. She simply wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. As the clerk put down the coffin, she felt her eyes water, but she did not cry. She couldn’t. Her grandmother always said,

‘I won’t be dead dear, I will still be alive. In some way or another.’

But there was no way she could say this now, disappearing under the rubble of earth. Alice stayed there until the labourers finished their work. Once the coffin was sealed, she paid them and they went away. She knew her way to her house. She could get there herself. She didn’t want to call it home, for it didn’t feel like that anymore.

It had too many bad memories. Memories of death, memories of riots, memories of hate. She stood there, next to the foot of the grave, the windy landscape soothing to her mind, though her hands were cold. It was said that the departed soul could see a person if they stood at the foot of the grave. So she stood there, and finally came to her decision.

Just then, she heard her phone ring. She picked up and heard a familiar voice,

‘Hello Alice.’

‘Hello uncle,’ she said.

‘I have good news for you dear. The photos your grandmother sent before dying have been accepted. I’m sending an e-passport to you now. You can make your way to Pakistan tomorrow. And from there, we’ll go to Kashmir.’

‘Thank you Uncle.’

‘And don’t worry dear. You still have some family back home. We’ll take care of you. It would be our honour.’

‘I know,’ and with that she hung up. Moments later she received her passport and decided to withdraw all the money that she had left. She had had enough of this place; she needed to make a new life and her only safe haven now was Kashmir.

*

Alice sat in her limousine, on the way from Karachi airport. Her driver was taking her through the outskirts of Karachi. She was watching the news bulletin, outlining recent events. It had been an emotional few weeks, once she’d made her decision to come back to her roots.

Her grandmother had lived here when she was young and then married an Englishman. Of course, at the time everyone had objected and even attempted to murder him. Eventually, in a tribunal hearing they won the case and were allowed to marry and stay in England.

It was a great story, her grandmother always used to tell her it. She would say that if it wasn’t for civilized society, you would not be here. Of course at the time, Alice never really understood what that meant.

Perhaps it was meant as a message for her to remember when she was older. Something to understand later. Her grandmother had always made it an effort to try and teach her something of the culture she had come from. Although she had always had difficulty speaking the language, she had got to the point where she understood it well enough.

She sat listening to a CD of a folk singer named Noor Jahan. It was surprising that people in this country had only just moved to listening to CDs and not tapes anymore, when CDs had been discontinued for almost 15 years now.

Holographic 3-D was the norm now where she came from. But she tried not to remember that. It was a distant memory of pain and suffering she didn’t want to get to yet. She decided to switch the TV back on. An unflattering LCD display which would give her a headache if she watched for too long, but apparently this was new here as well.

Unfortunately nothing worked here except the news. For the moment this was good enough, for that was all she needed to see right now. And the news was the same everywhere in this country.

She listened attentively for what felt like the last time she would ever hear English being spoken. The broadcaster was dim and somewhat angry, even though she tried her best to hide it under professionalism.

‘On the 2nd of September 2050, it became official. After a summit to the UN, the declaration has been reluctantly signed by both the Presidents of Pakistan and India. The treaty stipulates that as of this day, the state of Kashmir is an independent country, with Azad Kashmir being agreed as the capital.

As we can see here, the two Presidents shook hands and thanked the UN for their support. The picture was very different only a few months ago, when Pakistan had won the fourth war between the nations. A relatively long drawn out affair, it finally caused the UN to act when Pakistani officials threatened to use nuclear weapons in an alleged attempt to win back Kashmir.

We have an exclusive interview with the Prime Minister of Pakistan who will discuss how he plans to safely escort the remaining Kashmiris stranded in Pakistan.

Since that fateful day only 3 days ago, there are reports of Kashmiris being systematically tortured or killed. Officials in the UN are blaming the Prime Minister for not acting quickly enough to ensure the safety of these people.

The Prime Minister has promised that this will not be a repeat of the 1947 holocaust which killed more than 3 million Muslims, leaving scars still felt by the nation after 103 years. Will the people be moved over safely to their new locations, or will this indeed be a new age of savagery?’

She switched off the TV. It was bad enough that Baluchistan had always been on edge with how Pakistan had treated them, but for one of the regions to become another nation, it had only happened once before. That was when Bangladesh became its own country in 1971.

Even with that, the Bangladeshis blamed the Pakistanis. And the Pakistanis blamed the Indians, who blamed Pakistan. No one ever looked at their own faults.

It was easier not saying anything anymore. All you got was argument or one upmanship. That was one of the reasons Alice had never gone to Pakistan in her lifetime. Her grandmother always told her it was a beautiful nation, but her words had a certain sadness in them.

She looked at the dirt track they were driving on. Karachi was a lot dirtier than she remembered. It was supposedly a place of wealth but all she could see here was barren wasteland. You had to watch where you were walking; there was no real sewage system. Maybe she’d missed the joke, but letting it all go in the open was not her idea of freedom. She tried to take her mind away from this barren wasteland. But as soon as she did, all she could remember was her so called homeland. She had lived in England her entire life, supposedly a multicultural country. Yet everyone would argue about religion until the cows came home.

It was better not talking to ignorant people, for all you would hear would be barking. She was never English enough for most people, and when she came here to Pakistan, she was not Pakistani enough.

For this reason she had never felt patriotic about either country. It was all land fought over by different tribes trying to keep things the way they were, afraid of change. She didn’t want to sound cynical, but until these views were changed, no-one could see each other as equal.

Everyone was human, just from a different area. Women in general understood this, but in a world controlled by men, it would be impossible for everyone else to see this.

‘Alice-ji?’ her uncle said to her.

‘Yes?’ she had to clear her throat, the air was so dry here.

‘Are you thirsty? We’re coming to a gas station, I can get you something.’

‘Yeah, sure.’

‘How about a kulfi?’

‘That sounds great.’

They stopped at the gas station, which looked like something out of a Western. A major road with no lanes, a solitary gas station on one side, and miles of nothing. In the distance, there were the faint sign of a village. The only reason she knew this was because there were some children playing soccer.

What was surprising was that there was a water shortage in the country, yet people still found time to play games. The same could be said about the government itself.

A nation of illiterate officials trying to run a country without knowing how to. This country was still in ruins, and the economy had still not grown.

‘You ok?’ the driver asked her.

‘Fine, uncle-ji,’ she replied.

‘You seem like you’re somewhere else there?’

‘You could say that- I’m just thinking.’

‘About the separation?’

‘Yes, actually.’

‘That’s ok dear, everyone has been talking about it. I barely got myself past the new custom system they have on the border in Islamabad.’

‘You sure we’ll get through?’

‘Of course we will. Don’t worry about that dear. We’ll be fine.’

She shook her head

‘Why do you shake your head?’

‘No it’s just politicians have always said that but look what that has led to.’

‘Oh yes, don’t worry. I’ve always hated the fucking Pakistani government. Besides we’re Kashmiri now, so who cares about them? Let’s get ourselves through, and then it’ll all be ok, ok?’

‘Yeah, no problem.’

‘Yes don’t worry young one. If you know people, you can get anything done here.’

‘What about these riots that are happening in Lahore? Will we get out?’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll get through. Simply drive through. We’re Kashmiri; they won’t get us without a fight. We kept Indians out of Kashmir when they tried to take over Kashmir in 1965. Do you know about that?’

‘No?’

‘Yeah, they don’t bother mentioning that in the news. Our forefathers, they used grenades on themselves and took out a full tanker. That’s where suicide bombers come from. We were a village with guns against 500 Indian tankers. The Pakistani army only had two tankers and one f-16 which didn’t come until a week later.

Even then, we kept them at bay. None of those bastards could get through. We got them all, so what is a bunch of Pakistanis to a Kashmiri? We kept Kashmir intact for so long. We won the independence; they won’t take it from us without a fight!’

What was interesting was that she never asked for that last part. And there was that hint of patriotism again. But she had no choice; it was the only family she had left. The rest had died or been killed in the tensions of 2048, where Pakistani and Kashmiri people began to fight with one another over disputes of the land.

So many women had been raped and killed, including her own sister. Those moments and memories were so intense that she simply didn’t bother wearing a hijab anymore. That way she wouldn’t seem Muslim and everyone would leave her alone. It was probably the one thing that had saved her, and helped her to get out of the country and here without any real problems.

Of course, when she landed in Karachi, the first thing her uncle asked was, ‘where is your hijab? I thought you were the religious one’. She tried to explain why she wasn’t able to wear it in England anymore, but it seemed to be beyond his comprehension.

In the end, he simply told her that because she was his niece, he would let her off, and allow her to come with him. She understood his anger, but he didn’t understand her anguish, for he simply couldn’t listen. None of that mattered now, she was here, and she would be home soon.

And who knew, maybe this new family would embrace her new look. Either way, this was all she had. It was better than being homeless. She looked outside of the window again. The AC in the car could not take away from the fact that it was too warm out there.

This was a hot country, she would have to get used to it. Amidst the driving, she saw the odd car turned over. Her uncle commented that they were either bad drivers, or very unlucky. She saw bags on the ground too. Her uncle corrected her and told her they were probably the people who died.

‘What will happen to them?’

‘They’ll probably get buried.’

‘What, just there?’

‘Well of course. Do you think those ladies can pay for burial costs?’

‘Well maybe not, but someone can help them-’

‘This is Pakistan we’re talking about here.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means people here watch, complain, comment, but never help.’

‘Even if it means it could save someone?’

‘You have to understand, it could be a con.’

‘How?’

‘Well, I’ve heard of occasions where the bodies on the ground look dead. Someone stops to help them, the dead people come out of the bags, and then you realize these are bandits with guns. Then you’ve been robbed and killed. Or if you’re a woman, raped and killed. Or worse, if you’re a fighter, then you’re killed and later raped.’

‘That’s sickening!’

‘Like I said, this is Pakistan. Or as I abbreviate it, TIP.’

‘Yeah, TIP.’

They stopped over in a hotel of sorts for the night. In order to avoid confusion, they had to sign in as husband and wife. The room did have AC, and a comfortable bed, which her uncle allowed her to have.

Tomorrow she would make her way to Lahore. Even though it was not the capital of Pakistan, it still acted like it was. Everything seemed to happen there, and the real capital, Islamabad was almost forgotten. Now it was simply the city of unrest.

All the politicians lived there, and argued. The retired generals who were good in their time, but hadn’t helped were there to argue with the rest. She scoffed at herself. She was being cynical again.

‘You ok, little Alice?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking again.’

‘You do that a lot, young one!’

‘Yes I know.’

‘You shouldn’t think so much. It is not good for you.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Gives you high blood pressure!’

‘It depends what you are thinking about.’

‘What you mean by that?’

‘Pretty simple. I don’t think of distressing things. I think of now and what is, is. I analyse, I observe, I act. That’s how I’ve always survived.’

Her uncle seemed to have lost her on observe, for he shook his head and muttered something in Kashmiri. She understood him, but decided not to bother saying anything. An unnecessary argument was something she did not need right now.

‘You look tired.’

‘Yes I am. But not of tiredness itself.’

‘You know what else?’

‘What?’

‘You talk confusing.’

She smiled and replied, ‘That’s because you don’t understand me’.

He laughed as if he understood her meaning, but she knew he didn’t. Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes, wondering just for the briefest of moments how many lives had been lost in the time she chose to rest.

Chapter 2

She woke up in the morning feeling drowsy and sweaty. It took her a moment to realise that the electricity had gone off. Typical, she thought as she got herself freshened up. Thankfully the water was still running, and by the time she was finished, her uncle had come up with some breakfast.

‘I got something special today for you.’

‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’

‘Paratha with allo and keema gosht. Good stuff.’

He gave her the plate, coverd in what looked like brown goo. Although she knew it was good food, considering food was so difficult to get hold of, it was still taking some time to get used to it. She ate the heavy meal, knowing that it would be evening before she got anything else.

‘Let’s see what’s on the news today, then.’

After trying her utmost to keep past memories out of her mind, the grim picture of the news brought it flooding back. More massacres and murders across a nation of innocent bystanders only trying to find their way home. She shook her head and put aside her meal.

‘You’ve still got a bit left.’

‘I’m not hungry anymore.’

‘Alright, I’ll finish this off then.’

As he ate, she watched a little more of the news. There was a possibility now that the rioting could carry onto Karachi. Great, she thought, just what we needed. More fighting. They had to make a move soon if they were going to get through safely.

‘Don’t worry. I have a friend in the police, he can help us get through.’

‘Will he be needing money?’

‘Only a couple of thousand. Nothing major for someone like you, eh?’

As if money grew on trees, she thought, though not aloud. It was true, she had a lot of money on her, but then again, the Pakistani currency was at its weakest, so that didn’t really help. They made their way to the car, and found police patrol cars moving along the side streets.

‘I think we better get a move on if we’re going to make it.’

‘Good point’ and for once, her uncle seemed serious as they both got into the car, and he began to drive along. As they drove along, the picture became more desperate. They saw cars being vandalized as police tried desperately to keep rioters away from harming others.

‘Good thing we got up early. Otherwise we would be in this mess as well.’

‘Just keep driving uncle -watch out!’