EIGHT kilometres from Sarabjit’s house is another village, a village that now has instant recall. Locals direct us here to the place from where Sarabjit ‘‘accidentally strayed’’. Farmers point to the enormous fence that has been erected in the middle of their fields. ‘‘This pretty much shows the apathy of Government. Without their consent, a portion of the fields has been taken away from the farmers. Till about a few years ago, there would be a monthly compensation of Rs 2,500 per acre, but even that has stopped. The farmers aren’t even allowed to install tube wells,’’ says Sandhu.
A farmer, whose land has been ‘‘separated’’, explains how his movement is restricted. ‘‘Please don’t take my name. The authorities might not like it, but I tell you that if I have to visit my field on the other side I have to depend on the goodwill of the Pak Rangers and BSF. The entry is barred during the times when relations are tense and even normally there are a lot of restrictions.’’
If he has to tend to his field, he has to be accompanied by BSF soldiers. He can cross the border between 9 am to 5 pm. But the fields and the houses on both sides of the border look alike. A short story by Sadaat Hasan Manto is very popular in these parts. Titled Toba Tek Singh, it is the tale of a simpleton who loses his life as he is unable to differentiate between the two countries. For the people of his village, Sarabjit Singh’s life is at stake because of a similar but inadvertent error.
— With inputs from Dharmendra Rataul

... contd.