The saying that “you can get a person out of Lahore, but never Lahore out of a person”. Given my recent experiences it seems this holds true for three generations who have never been to the city.

As a researcher in Cambridge University, I noticed that in the outgoing class doing their Masters in South Asian Studies, the majority were from India, which is to be expected. They are more interested in their own history than the very few Pakistanis who make it there. In this class the majority of Indians were called, or better still called themselves, the ’Lahori Group’. The name being termed after their grandparents who had migrated from Lahore.

It came as a surprise that in Delhi a vast majority of the population belonged to Lahore or its suburbs. These students prided themselves as an ‘elitist’ class, and when I interview them, they certainly did come across as a special Indian group. Let me share a few interviews, brief as they are, with you.

There is a handsome Punjabi named Sarthak Malhotra in the class working away on his PhD. Now the Malhotra tribe belongs to the Punjabi ‘khatri’ clan of Hindus and are mostly found in or around Bhera. Before 1947 Sarthak’s paternal grandfather owned large tracts of land near Hafizabad, which he locates as the place “where 16 roads meet”. His maternal grandmother was from Lyallpur. They moved to Lahore and purchased a house in Mohallah Basti Bhagat inside Delhi Gate.

They also owned land at Sambrial and Sialkot. But then they moved to Garhi Shahu where the grandmother started off a ‘money-lending’ business. Sarthak’s father joined the Dyal Singh School in Lahore and then come Partition they moved to Delhi. He says in Lahore his grandmother ran the largest money-lending business in the area. “She would even accept ‘charpoys’ as collateral. In 1947 when they ran eastwards, they left behind a lot of money owed as well as the collaterals.

Next is a M.Sc. student named Bhavika Behal whose grandparents lived on Montgomery Road “in a huge house”. Her grandfather was a civil servant and belonged to Gujranwala and was a big landowner. In Lahore her grandmother went to Kinnaird College, while the civil servant did his graduation from GC. Bhavika is among the brightest student, and she says all that the grandparents do is discuss Lahore and the old city and the food.

Then in the Centre is a young woman whose grandfather lived in ‘G’ Block Model Town in one of the largest houses in the colony. Her name is Prajkati Kalra. She belongs to an Arora Sikh family and was in the Taxation Department, Lahore, in 1947. She recalls that her grandparents did nothing but compare life to life in Lahore.

The family wished to see a photograph of their old house, which my brother Karim immediately went there, and thanks to WhatsApp sent it over immediately. The next day I presented her the needed photograph, naturally viral. Oh, the family in Delhi have got it printed, framed and put in grandparents’ room. Every time we meet, she asks about Lahore. Not surprising.

Then there is a tall and fair girl named Kudrat, who happens to be the great granddaughter of the famous politician Sir Chhotu Ram, the pre-Partition Punjab revenue minister. Their house in New Garden Town was host to many political meetings of the Punjab Unionist Party. Sir Chhotu Ram used to set aside one fifth of all party funds to pay the school and college fees of poor families. Among the beneficiary out of thousands of students was Dr. Abdus Salam. The family migrated to Delhi in 1947 and Kudrat also says Lahore is among the favourite topics of the family.

The stories this group narrates clearly reflect the nostalgia about Lahore that exists in these ‘Lahore-origin’ families. What is surprising is that the last three generations have not grown up in the city, yet they read about and know Lahore considerably. All of them wish to visit the city, but all complain that getting a visa is a massive problem. I suppose it works both ways, undesirable that it is.

But now comes the most amazing portion of this story. One of the students named Kishore informs me that his grandfather had refused to migrate in 1947. The tale in the family is that “Dada will die without Lahore”. It sounded so far-fetched that I asked for details. “In 1947 Dada put up a board outside the house of the First Quranic Kalma. This kept away people setting fire to the houses of Hindus”. The details forthwith were a story of survival few discuss.

The old man started going to the local mosque and the rumour was that he had converted. The mosque spread the word that he was reading the Quran. But then, so claims Kishore, he also secretly visited the Shiv Temple on Rattan Chand Road. After a ‘holy bath’ in the Shiv Temple pool, he would go home inside Mochi Gate and head straight to the mosque. Sounds bizarre, but it was excellent survival.

The old man had a wife who kept a small idol in the house, and their three children had Islamic names. One of the three also visited the Shiv Temple and followed his father’s routine. Kishore’s logic was that in both cases the Almighty is remembered. But then there was no point arguing the point, for in matters of The Lord, silence is best. To each person his own logic.

But the situation today is that the old walled city has nearly 65 per cent foreign Afghan citizens, there are a growing number of Pakistani Sikh, and it’s good that they are returning. The total Hindu population of the walled city is 11 known families. Why not, after all almost a thousand years ago it was entirely Hindu, and before that entirely Buddhist.

The point is that no matter who lives in Lahore, he or she becomes in mind and soul a ‘Lahori’ and getting that out of a human soul is impossible. No wonder they say: Lahore Lahore Aye.

Published in Dawn, July 23rd, 2023