Before boarding the bus, Bibi went inside the gurdwara and prayed. Arif sat next to her obediently and together they listened to the Shabad (holy songs) being sung by the raagis (singers): ‘Koi bole Ram-Ram, koi Khudai, koi Sevai Gosaiyaan, koi Allahe . . . [some recite Ram-Ram, some remember Allah, while others call upon their Gods, whereas He’s just the One omnipresent . . .]’ After the song ended, Bibi stood up, went to the raagis and handed over two bundles of hundred-rupee notes. ‘By the grace and command of Waheguru, I am leaving this in your custody. Please use it for running the school in the gurdwara. May God be with you.’ She bowed in front of the holy book and spoke to the Almighty in her mind. ‘Tera shukar hai, Rabba. Teri raza wich mainu apne aakhri safar di ijaazat deyo [I am grateful to you, O Lord. Under your divine grace, you’ve allowed me to perform my last journey].’ She bowed again and with a cheerful face, stepped out of the gurdwara.
They took a bus to Delhi and from there a train to Amritsar. Frail in health but mentally strong, energetic and upbeat, Bibi’s eyes scanned the faraway horizon as if searching for the familiar faces of her sons. At Amritsar, Arif escorted her to the immigration office and helped her with the clearance. He watched her till she disappeared from sight and waved at her even when he knew she wasn’t looking at him. He felt depressed and happy at the same time, as if a part of his own heart had chipped off and drifted away. ‘May Allah bless you and help you in uniting with your children, Bibi . . .’ he prayed with his head touching the ground.
A hawker standing nearby was looking at him with much interest. ‘Sir, you look like a Muslim, and she’s a Sikh. I saw that you prayed for her. What is the secret behind this strong relationship?’ he finally asked.
Arif smiled. ‘Bibi taught me the true meaning of the adage: “Ekas ke hum baarik [We are the children of one God].” Our religions are made by us and we often get steered towards hatred due to lack of education. We get brainwashed by fundamentalists. It’s spirituality that connects us to God and not religion. Bibi treated me like her own child, without ever bothering about caste and creed. She’s travelling to Pakistan today in search of her two sons who are Muslim, and I am going to wait here till she returns. There are no compulsions and yet we’re there for each other. Simply put, pure love is not bound by any religious preference.’
The hawker nodded but before he could grasp the deep-rooted essence of the traveller’s statement, Arif shot him a query. ‘Sir, can you please suggest any low-cost accommodation for a week?’