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Common dialect, a bond that survived Partition
Spice of Life: Language is a shared bond, and the fact that one’s dialect can trace one’s origin back to the birthplace so much later in life, is quite a humbling revelation
Eighteen years ago, one of my friends who was a movie producer arranged a week-long singing tour by the then famous singer, Kumar Sanu, to Malaysia, and he invited me along to cover it as a journalist. We were put up at a splendid property in the Genting Highlands Resorts situated on the peak of Mount Ulu Kali with a few seven-star hotels and a casino in the area.
On the first night, dinner was planned at a fine restaurant. The ambience was perfect, and a youngster was singing ghazals and songs for the entertainment of the diners. On spotting Kumar Sanu in the restaurant, the young singer was thrilled and started singing several of his songs as a tribute.
During a break in between songs, the singer approached us and sought Sanu’s permission to join us. He took up a seat that was vacant next to me and started talking animatedly with Sanu. After a while, with all five of us at the table enjoying a few good laughs, the singer turned to me and politely enquired about my hometown.
Knowing well that he was from Pakistan and concluding, therefore, that he may not be familiar with the interiors of India, I replied that I was from Delhi. “Proper Delhi?” he said. So, I elaborated that I was from a town called Kurukshetra 160km north of Delhi. I sensed that the singer had something more on his mind. A little later, he again enquired if I had been born in Kurukshetra, to which I replied in the negative and explained that I was, in fact, born in Eminabad, which is now in Pakistan.
A radiant smile appeared on his face and he exclaimed, “Oh! Mein eho hi toh ab tak janna chah rah tha (That’s what I wanted to figure out).” I was puzzled by his response, but it became clearer as he continued. With great excitement, he informed me that he was from Kamoke, a town close to Eminabad. He explained that there were some aspects of my speech that reminded him of his hometown, which was why he was keen to establish the link.
Surprised, I asked him how it was possible as I was all of two years old when my parents shifted from Eminabad after the Partition. Ever since, I’ve been talking in Hindi with a smattering of Punjabi. The singer enumerated several words uttered by me in the past few minutes of our interaction that were typical of the Punjabi-speaking people around Eminabad.
A newfound kinship was established through this shared past. The singer described how my birthplace had transformed since Partition. He mentioned that a national express highway passed through the area now, and that land prices had increased exponentially. I let him know that my family had a thriving business and industrial establishment at Kamoke Mandi prior to the Partition. He offered to show me around the area if I were to visit my birthplace.
For the next six days, the singer made it a point to meet us at least once a day, and he would regularly bring up our old bond. Though I’ve forgotten his name and contact details, the incident still evokes strong emotions when I recall it. Clearly, language is a shared bond, and the fact that one’s dialect can trace one’s origin back to the birthplace so much later in life, is quite a humbling revelation.
We are all products of our environment – the more we are allowed to explore beyond man-made borders, the more we are likely to find common ground; this is even more important now, in these Covid times, when we are being pushed to isolation and distant lives. vijaysabharwal@yahoo.com
The writer is a Kurukshetra-based veteran journalist and social activist
