Two weeks later, the brothers waited outside the arrival lounge at the Islamabad airport, eagerly looking at every aircraft that landed or took off. They had heavily tipped the airport staff to get special access to the VIP area. The airport staff was bending over backwards to fulfil their wishes. The word had spread amongst the workers that a Sikh mother was meeting her two Muslim sons for the first time after Partition. As a result, a hoard of spectators had gathered at the arrival lounge. Each vied for a vantage point, eager to see a rare reunion between an Indian mother and her two Pakistani sons.

A large number of off-duty customs officers in sparkling white uniforms also joined in. In their entire career, they had never come across a case where an estranged family was reuniting after almost six decades. Everyone seemed eager to witness the reunion. A few newspaper journalists were also present. Their presence egged on the on-duty airport officials to put up their best act. Bibi’s arrival turned into a win-win situation for numerous agencies, including the airport staff.

Soon, an eighteen-year-old boy came running to Qasim. He was a loader on duty, assigned to offload the passengers’ luggage on to the conveyor belt. He sneaked through the rubber flaps, ran on to the conveyor belt and stopped right in front of the brothers. Addressing Qasim Zaid, he said, ‘Sahibji, Sahibji, I just saw your mother getting down from the aircraft. She has boarded the bus. She will be here soon.’

Qasim Zaid held the boy’s face in his hands. ‘May Allah bless you. I have waited for six decades to hear this!’ Then stepping away slightly, he removed the thick gold ring from his forefinger and handed it to the boy. ‘May you never be separated from your mother!’ All the workers and officials standing close by began clapping on hearing Qasim Zaid’s heart-warming words. Many women broke down and could be seen wiping their tears. A dozen cameras began flashing. The show had begun.

Javed Ishtiaq, the head of immigration, was standing amidst the crowd in civil clothes and observing the drama as it unfolded. ‘Ya Allah!’ he said aloud. ‘May no one be separated from their loved ones like this!’ Moving quickly, he went past the immigration checkpoint and the long queues of passengers. He spotted the old lady and went straight up to her. ‘You’re Bibi Amrit Kaur?’ Bibi looked at him closely and realized that he was too young to be her son.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Please come with me. Your sons are eagerly waiting for you,’ he said excitedly and then added, ‘Welcome home, Bibi.’