“You’ll see, these Indians will form their own groups and won’t mingle with us with an open heart,” a Pakistani colleague remarked on our first day of the Chevening South Asia Journalism Program (SAJP) at the University of Westminster in London.

It was a sweeping generalisation, one that my inquisitive mind found hard to accept. But I couldn’t dismiss her opinion entirely — after all, she was a seasoned journalist working for an international news organisation. So, I asked her what had led her to develop this perception about people from the other side of the border. She explained that she had participated in a similar fellowship a few years ago, where she had felt a deep-seated prejudice from the Indian participants.

Still, I struggled to grasp the reasoning behind her experience. “Perhaps they were older, more rigid journalists,” I suggested, “ones whose views had been shaped by the long, complicated history between our countries.” But she dismissed this idea too. “No,” she replied, “they were all young, fresh journalists.”

Before I could probe further, someone reminded us that it was time for our first session. We rushed to the historic campus of the University of Westminster, leaving that initial conversation unresolved.

Bridging the divide, one friendship at a time

Every year, the UK’s Foreign and Commonwealth Office, through the Chevening Secretariat, selects around 20 mid-career journalists from Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh to participate in the SAJP fellowship. The programme focuses on enhancing professional skills, promoting cross-border collaboration, and addressing regional challenges through media.

It also aims to foster democratic values and build bridges between South Asian countries. Yet, my very first conversation with a fellow Pakistani was far from bridge-building.

Perhaps the SAJP organisers were aware of these apprehensions, which is why they had designed the programme to break down these country-specific groupings through its structure.

Our first formal session primarily focused on orientation and introductions. And here came the first icebreaker: each fellow was tasked with interviewing and introducing another to the whole cohort. Through this exercise, we started to get to know each other better and exchanged smiles.

They also had us work in small groups on joint projects and ensured each group comprised journalists from different countries. This collaboration gradually started breaking the barriers and made us realise how similar we were — not just in our professions, but also in our lives and cultures.

As we spent our evenings together, exploring London after the day-long sessions, to our surprise, the things that amused or annoyed us, made us laugh or feel frustrated, were the same.

In conversations about life, family, career, and ambitions, we realised that we had far more in common than we had ever imagined — we had the same struggles, the same professional aspirations, and the same fears and joys of life so much so that we couldn’t tell when we began to forget who came from which country. We were all the same, we were all friends!

My Pakistani fellow journalist, who had initially been sceptical of the Indian participants, was now spending most of her time with them. Meanwhile, two girls — one from India, the other from Pakistan — had become so close that we often mistook their names for the other.

All of us not only explored London together but also cooked and dined together in the community kitchen of our hostel. Even our taste buds were the same!

So one day, I asked the same Pakistani colleague about her initial opinion of the Indian fellows. “You said the Indians would be unfriendly, but they’ve been nothing but warm and kind,” I said. She had no real answer and admitted, “I’m amazed myself — I didn’t expect this.”

Later, during a talk toward the end of our fellowship, she confessed her initial biases before everyone, acknowledging how she had been proven wrong.

That day, I learned two things: first, never make strong judgments based on one or two bad experiences, and second, always have the humility to unlearn, relearn, and honestly accept the faults in your opinions when confronted with reality — just as my esteemed Pakistani colleague did.

Interestingly, I also had my own set of biases — not about Indians, but about our Bangladeshi counterparts. I assumed that lingering resentment from the events of 1971 might colour their attitude toward us. But I too was proven wrong. The Bangladeshi fellows embraced me like a brother. When I tried to express regret over the past, they immediately reassured me: “What’s done is done. Let’s move forward and write a new history of friendship and respect.”

Barriers of bias fall on both fronts

Meanwhile, some of the Indian journalists too had their own misgivings before coming to London, assuming we Pakistanis would harbour nothing but hatred for them. They, too, were proven wrong. After all, how can an entire nation despise another in its entirety?

Tridip Mandal, creative head at The Quint, reflected that his initial impression of Pakistanis, shaped largely by social media, had completely changed. He found us to be warm and wonderful people, with so much in common and such a deep understanding of regional issues that the differences between Indians and Pakistanis seemed to melt away.

Saurabh Sharma, a seasoned journalist at Reuters in India, expressed his surprise at receiving such warmth from a country often perceived as hostile.

Pallavi Pundir, a freelance journalist and consulting editor at Asian Dispatch, described Pakistani journalists as cordial and genuine. She emphasised that our media communities should collaborate more often, as both our professional and personal relationships regularly transcend diplomatic tensions.

During our fellowship, the T20 Cricket World Cup match between India and Pakistan took place. Journalists from both countries watched the match together on TV, fully supporting their respective teams without hostility. Pakistan lost, and we congratulated the Indian journalists, who celebrated without a hint of arrogance.

This experience showed that we can maintain our distinct identities, pursue our goals, and even compete, while still fostering friendships and behaving with civility.

Can shared stories heal old wounds?

Some readers might wonder: what does having a good time with a few journalists from other nations have to do with the longstanding, unresolved tensions between our countries? It’s a fair question.

So, now let’s talk about the deeper discussions we had on conflicts.

I raised the issue of Kashmir with one of my Indian counterparts, pointing out how the Modi government had revoked its special status in the Indian constitution, effectively turning the valley into a prison, marred by human rights violations. To my surprise, he also criticised Modi’s policy and did not support the government’s actions. He wasn’t alone — other Indian journalists in our group shared similar views.

They were equally critical of the Indian cricket board’s refusal to send their national team to play in Pakistan, terming this policy a major blow to confidence-building measures between the two nations.

They also opposed the extremist, ultranationalist tactics of the Modi government, seeing these policies as contradictory to the very essence of the Indian constitution.

Similarly, none of the Pakistani journalists in our cohort defended the hardline extremists in Pakistan who constantly lash out against India and fuel warmongering. On the contrary, we openly criticised such factions, identifying them as one of the key reasons for the trust deficit between the two countries.

What does this tell us? Doesn’t it show that well-informed and rational minds in both nations reject the hostility that divides us? And it’s not just intellectuals or journalists — whenever common Pakistanis or Indians visit each other’s countries, they consistently return with stories of warmth, care, affection, and hospitality from the people they meet.

If that’s the case, why do hostilities between India and Pakistan persist? Why hasn’t sanity prevailed in the region? And why haven’t journalists like us, the SAJP fellows, succeeded in spreading the understanding and camaraderie we experienced?

Perhaps, in both countries, rhetoric sells better than rationality. Emotions and jingoism often win over reason and progressive thinking. And why not? The masses in both nations have been fed propaganda and controlled narratives since their inception.

Moreover, when rational and peace-loving people in India and Pakistan try to dispel discord and promote peace, forces that thrive on conflict alienate them by labelling them as “anti-national” or “traitors.”

In this scenario, what can be done to extend these sentiments of love and care between the people of both countries to their official policies?

In my opinion, promoting critical thinking, fostering maturity, and encouraging people-to-people connections, while resisting the forces of hatred, can make a difference. It may be a slow and painstaking process, but meaningful change takes time to bear fruit.

This is how European nations have evolved, moving from hostility to cooperation despite their many differences — and it didn’t happen overnight. It will take time for India and Pakistan too — the key is to keep hope alive and continue working to spread the message of peace and harmony.

Header image: Chevening South Asia Journalism fellows in London during their fellowship. — All photos provided by author