Indian Womb, Pakistani Soil

Naheed escaped to India. She thought her troubles would be over, but new ones were there to contend with. She had married a Pakistani and moved to Karachi; she gave up her Indian citizenship and found herself a nice job. Soon she realised that she had to fend for the man since he did not work. She had given in to the arrangement because, ironically, she was educated and independent-minded; she had to prove that her decision was not wrong.

As it turned out, it was. Although he did not mind her hours at the office, he would keep tabs on her every movement, every phone call. Finally, unable to take the taunts and worse, she returned to India to find that she was an object of suspicion. Not only did she have to get the divorce sorted out, she also had to fight to regain her citizenship.

Was it worth it? In such major gambles, how do we place ordinary people?

There is much discussion about the Indian doctor who has been denied Pakistani citizenship by the Interior Ministry. Her lawyer has said, “Under the terms of the Pakistan Citizenship Act, 1951, a woman married to a citizen of Pakistan should be registered as a citizen of the country.” What is worse is that she may be deported to India. She has given birth to a son a few days ago.

A few questions about this case:

Is she being denied citizenship because she is an Indian?

There is most definitely an element of suspicion between the two sides. Besides, Dr. Hafsa and her husband Aman Khan live in Mardan in the North West Frontier Province; Pakistani laws do not extend beyond Torkham in Peshawar, although one is not too sure about citizenship. It is possible that the government is indeed concerned not so much about her background but of how he might use it. Isn’t that why he has had to reiterate, “Neither me nor anyone else from my family has a criminal background”?

Under what circumstances did the marriage take place?

They were married in July 2003. She made a sworn statement about her surrendering her Indian nationality and conversion to Islam. She said, “I converted because I found some truths in Islam.” In her arguments she has used this fact by implying it is unjust that after coming to an Islamic state and becoming a Muslim, she is being denied citizenship.

Did she convert because she was marrying someone in an Islamic state or because she found some truths in the religion?

Her fear of being deported too raises many questions. She says, “If they force me to go back to India I will have to convert back to Hinduism.” A report mentions that this is a prospect that does not appeal to Dr Aman, who comes from a conservative Hindu family. I am surprised. This person now lives in a village off Peshawar, not known for its particularly liberal attitude. She is from Kerala, which is known to be far from conservative. And why is she afraid of converting back to Hinduism? For how long has she known and experienced Islam? And how conservative could her parents possibly be if they sent her to study medicine in Ukraine in 1995, when she was barely 16?

Is it the consequences of a threat from her new family for converting back to Hinduism that is worrying her more? Her statement, “I only spoke a few times with them, but my parents would kill me if I go back…They are not happy with my decision”, just does not wash especially since it is her mother, Vasantha, who is making arrangements for the couple to travel to India by approaching the Indian High Commission.

Is it right to politicise the issue?

These days anyone who has a few Polaroid shots of the Wagah border is claiming to be a champion of peace. It is foolish to imagine that there is any real peace. A few free lunches and hugs cannot wipe away years of deep-rooted animosity. Indian and Pakistani culture may be the same, as Dr. Hafsa says, but the cultural conditioning is different.

I think it is wrong for the couple to talk in terms of thawing of relations between India and Pakistan to help their case. “It is me who took a personal step towards better relations between two neighbours by marrying an Indian woman,” Aman Khan said.

What is going on here? Did he woo the former Divya Dayanan in his capacity as smitten lover or as ambassador of his country or as peace-maker?

The only one qualified to talk about bringing the two countries together is their little son, and he is too young to speak. I am surprised that the doctor says without any hesitation, “My boy is a Pakistani. Would it really help my case and persuade the Pakistani authorities to allow me to stay here with my son and husband?”

Is it all about a case?

I am a bit perturbed by the sequence of events. Divya and Aman met in Ukraine, sometime after 1995. They waited long enough to get married. Although they are both only 25, they are quite worldly-wise; they have contested the Interior Ministry’s decision in the Peshawar High Court, which is not a small step to take. Did they then not think things over beforehand? It is common knowledge that in corrupt societies of the subcontinent, it is not too difficult to arrange for ‘official papers’. In places like Peshawar where you can get a gun, surely procuring some sort of identity would not have been such an insurmountable task.

How did she manage to get to Pakistan? As a tourist? Did they register their marriage elsewhere and then have a nikaah ceremony in Mardan? It is easy to legitimise a marriage in Islam, but what are the legal ramifications?

Was she brainwashed into seeing the truths in Islam by Aman?

Given her current standing, is she just another hostage then? She is working as a medical officer at a local hospital – are non-citizens permitted to do so? What if under her supervision there is a surgical or medical crisis – who will then be held responsible? Would the hospital authorities, the state, and her in-laws stand by her?

What if (and this cynical view is based on the real Naheed’s case) somewhere down the line she feels she cannot adjust to the environment? Today she is flaunting her son as a Pakistani, forgetting that she is still an Indian - would she then have the right to claim him to be an Indian were she to opt to return to her homeland at a later stage? Or, what if she is indeed deported and has no choice – would she forgo the child? Would that child be recognised as a Pakistani? Would her husband want that child?

I am aware that I ought to be taking up the cause of the doctor, but I am not too sure about several issues. I would have been happier had she remained a Hindu; I would be happier still if both the countries permitted dual citizenship. An Indian womb on Pakistani soil, a child conceived in an Indian ‘environment’ and born in Pakistan or vice versa would be a potent symbol, both at the individual and political level, if we must.

Divya and Aman – the light of peace.