By Major Parmjit Singh Pammi

1977.Karachi. Myself, Captains AP Singh and Luv Shingal had reached Karachi sailing the boat named Albatross from Bombay in 17 days. A deadly storm and day-and-night sailing the tiny boat had taken its toll on us: starvation due to seasickness and inability to sleep at night! Hospitality most generously offered by Byram Avari, the rich Parsee businessman of Pakistan in his Beach Luxury Hotel was a dream come true and we found ourselves spending many hours at the bar.

At the bar, when we were having drinks, a young man came up to me and saluted smartly:"Sir, I am Lieutenant Mohammed from Pakistan Navy. During your stay, I will be your Liaison Officer."I thanked him and invited him to join us for drinks. He would neither eat nor have a drink and sat by us hour after hour. I learnt that he was married and lived with his family in the cantonment area. On his second day sitting and watching us, I opened the conversation thus:

Pammi. 'Mohammed,I believe you are a Jatt from Punjab"

Mohammed. "Yes sir.I am a Bajwa Jatt from Sargodha".

P. "I am a Sandhu Jatt from Amritsar. My grandfather's brother was a big farmer at Sargodha before Partition. Now let us talk Jatt to Jatt."

M. "Let us talk in Punjabi."

P. "I am only a rank senior to you. Tell me how you have been allotted this duty which is also forcing you to starve."

M. "Sir, actually I am supposed to keep an eye on you."

P. " You know that we are here as sportsmen. That is how Mr Avari knows us. I give you my word of honor that we will not say a word about your naval intelligence when we get back. Do you believe me?"

M. " Yes sir, I believe you."

Next evening Mohammed was in a relaxed mood and he invited me to his house for a meal cooked by his Biwi. I accepted his invitation but felt sad that he did not even talk to or invite my two brother officers sitting by our side at the bar. The meal, with plenty of sweets, was typical Punjabi. Nobody said a word about Halal or Jhatka. Half a dozen Jatts who had come visiting from Sargodha were happy to see me and we talked about the old and new methods of farming. I was surprised to learn that they still used animals for thrashing the wheat whereas farmers on our side had switched to electric thrashers.

The next day Mohammed had a staff car and he wanted to show me Karachi. We started with the tallest ten-storey high Habib Bank. Whenever he introduced me to a woman employee as "Major Pammi from India"she would promptly turn her face away in disgust. Hatred instilled through relentless propaganda in the minds of common people was palpable. Only Mohammed showed no trace of it.

Next we landed up at the mazaar of Qaid-e-Azam. A chandler gifted by the Chinese impressed me because it weighed more than a ton. Lastly, rather late, we arrived at the beautiful dome-shaped RCC mosque designed by Turkish engineers. Since the door was locked, Mohammed ordered the sentry to call the Mullah at once because his Mehmaan wished to see the mosque from inside. I had never been inside a mosque and believed that non-Muslims are not allowed. Mohammed asked me if I have any objection to it. I told him that Guru Nanak had done the whole Hajj at Mecca and I was happy to have the privilege.

Opening of a national monument on the orders of a junior service officer confirmed my impression that service officers enjoyed great authority over the civilians in Pakistan.

When we were to sail forth to Iran on the fifth day, Mohammed came in uniform to see us off accompanied by some naval ratings. He had brought an Onyx vase as a gift. Unfortunately, we had nothing to offer in return. Hesitatingly, I took out two bottles of Rooh-Afzaa and tried to hand over to one of his men. He promptly pulled back his hands and moved away from me. Mohammed had to shout at him before he accepted the two bottles.

We both knew that we shall not meet again. Rather suddenly, he asked me why we had to keep fighting. I had no answer to this loaded question. I told him that as serving soldiers we both were brothers in arms!