“Hindus are like a fish out of water in Pakistan. They all want to come to India, hoping to put an end to their misery – but it is a different story here altogether,” says Krishan Lal, who is one of a group of 145 Hindus who fled Pakistan on a pilgrimage visa. He now lives in a refugee camp in North Delhi, praying that the Indian government will offer him permanent refuge.
Even as the persecution of Hindus in Pakistan makes headlines, India Today offers a timely and urgent reminder of that “different story” which unfolds on this side of the border – of the fate that awaits these Hindus when they land in India. [The story is unavailable online, but you can check out a brief excerpt here. But this 7 May issue is well worth a trip to the news-stand.]
The Hindu minority, under siege in Pakistan, especially from abductions, rapes, and forcible conversion of their women, is increasingly desperate to get out. The usual trickle of refugees has grow rapidly in the last year. Until mid-2011, 8-10 families crossed the border; that number has now increased to 400.
Even this number, however, is artificially low, kept down by stringent Indian visa regulations, especially after the 2009 Mumbai attack. Only one in five visa applications are approved.
Those lucky enough to cross the border are shoved into refugee camps, where they languish without rights or attention in a “no man’s land.” The Indian government treats them as an inconvenience that is best ignored. Take, for instance, Pujari Lal who fled in1999 after his teenage sister was kidnapped and raped. He now lives in Khanna, Punjab, in a settlement with 1,200 other Hindu and Sikh refugees.
“It has been 13 years but I still don’t have Indian citizenship. My papers have come back a dozen times. They want proof of my father’s date of birth and birthplace. My father is dead: my mother is with me but we do not have all the papers.,” he says.
In a photo from 1971, a Hindu refugee from Pakistan stands outside her makeshift home in Calcutta. Getty Images
This is hardly unusual. As Rajya Sabha MP Avinash Rai Khanna points out in a sidebar, more than 3,500 families who emigrated to Jammu in 1947 have still not received citizenship.
Since they’re not Indian citizens, refugees are still subject to the same restrictions as other Pakistanis: no ration card, driver’s license, right to buy property, gas connection or travel within the country. “When our children fall ill, the government hospitals refuse to give us medicines, saying we are Pakistanis,” says Jamuna Devi.
Most are forced to live a hand-to-mouth, uncertain existence reliant on the whims of the Indian and Pakistani authorities. To remain in the country, they must get their Indian visa extended over and again, and renew their passport – which now the Pakistani consulate insists they do on an annual basis.
And the hope for citizenship remains dim. Of the 148 applications received just from Punjab (in Pakistan) between 2009-2011, only 16 were accepted, 119 are stuck in limbo due to inadequate documents, and 13 have been rejected. Add to this an “active policy of discouragement” that makes it extremely difficult and expensive for Pakistani Hindus to secure a visa, and the message from the Indian state becomes crystal-clear: We don’t want you.
Well, neither seemingly does Pakistan, where minorities have become an easy target in a climate of extremism. The India Today story is filled with heart-rending testimonies of refugees who have lost their wives, daughters and sisters to armed gangs and militias. But these tales are one part of a grim new reality not just for Hindus, but also Christians and minority Muslims such as Hazara and Ahmadi communities. Last September, 26 members of the Hazara community were forced to disembark from a bus by gunmen and shot dead.
A recent minority status report by The Jinnah Institute summed up the ground reality in these terms:
These most recent attacks on religious minorities and the state’s tolerance towards this persecution are part of a longer-term pattern of state complicity at all levels – judicial, executive and legislative – in the persecution of and discrimination against minorities. The findings of this report confirm that the legislature, executive and judiciary have historically played a foundational role in creating two-tiers of Pakistani citizenship, which are defined by whether a person is a Muslim or a non-Muslim.Furthermore, both democratic processes and martial rule have been used to institute discriminatory laws and practices. It is also clear that the heightened threat of extremism and the ascendency of armed extremist militant groups confronting the Pakistani state have created a situation of “double jeopardy” for Pakistan’s religious minorities who now face the multiple assaults of vigilante attacks, increased physical threats and social persecution from extremist groups, as well as the discriminatory legal frameworks of the state and failure of the state to punish hate crimes. Indeed, the situation for Pakistani minorities has never been more dire than it is today.
The question for Indians is what role will we play in this unfolding tragedy. The answer is invariably muddled by the dynamics of our internal immigration politics. While the BJP has emerged as a champion of Pakistani Hindu refugees, it opposes, for example, Assam Chief Minister Tarun Gogoi’s position that all Bangladeshi migrants “who were compelled to leave their country because of some valid reasons, ‘deserve’ humanitarian consideration, irrespective of their religion.” Muslim migrants are not welcome in Assam, according to the BJP litmus test, because they do not face religious persecution.
But can that kind of double-standard be extended to include visas? In the decision to grant citizenship? And how about fleeing members of minority Muslim sects whose situation is no less dire? Can we be advocates not just for Hindus but also other suffering minorities in our neighbourhood? Offer a safe haven for all those fleeing in desperation?
There are no easy solutions, but what the India Today story makes clear is that the status quo is untenable. We can no longer content ourselves with pro forma expressions of concern even as we reject those who seek our protection.
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