Sabhi ka khoon hai shaamil yahan ki mitti mein,
Kisi ke baap ka ye Hindustaan thode hai !
Dr. Rahat Indori
These lines have found resonance with certain sections of our population in the light of some of the recent political developments, especially around identity - NRC, CAA, NPR and whatever one may choose to call it. Who is the "original" citizen and who "came from outside"?
The question is very simple with respect to international travel and a necessary document called Passport would give simple answers to that question and Immigration and VISA offices across the world will take note and either welcome, detain or deport. But, when this question is asked of people living in a particular landmass, say a village, town, city or state, there could be some complications.
The first being, "Why?". Okay, the government has the right to ask. So, let's move on. We will revisit this in a bit. Second, is of "When?", of the timeline. The history of mankind is a history of movement. Of people moving physically, moving their cattle, possessions, language, food, clothes and ways of living with them. So, everyone came from somewhere or is going somewhere. In all likelihood, except the tribal population who have continued to live in and around the same place where their forefathers, the very first of them lived. Even, among them, the nomads and pastoral community move quite a bit and have a very different lifestyle. So, you or your parents or grandparents might be living in this place for a hundred years or two hundred, what about say 500 or 800 or 1500 years back, would you know? Where did that person come from? What language he spoke, what was his religion? His food habits? His culture? Also, if you are living here (could be any city, state) today, where would your children and grandchildren be? Can you bet they would not move to another city, state or country ? Oh, they would go formally, through proper channels! Immigrants all the same. Useful to remember another beautiful quote by a great statesman Franklin D. Roosevelt comes to mind in such troubling times. “Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended from immigrants and revolutionists.”
Well, I had a very interesting reflection on these topics on a bright, sunny, February morning at Kohima while I was taking a walk at the War Cemetery. Here, at the heart of this beautiful state capital of Nagaland, lies this beautiful and serene War Cemetery. The cemetery is at the location where a decisive battle was won by the Allied Forces during the Second World War, forcing the Japanese army to retreat.
Reaching Kohima during April 1944, the Japanese 15th Army occupied a strategic location on Garrison Hill and continually attacked a small contingent of the Commonwealth forces, which successfully held their ground until reinforcements were brought in. In the battle at the tennis ground (now marked by white concrete lines) of the Deputy Commissioner's bungalow (which was destroyed during the war), which also involved hand-to-hand fighting between the opposing forces, the Commonwealth forces prevailed over the Japanese forces and forced them to retreat in defeat. There were heavy casualties on both sides. (but) This battle was the turning point for the Allied forces. (Source: Wikipedia)
While the road outside is busy, there is a calmness and serenity of air once you step in and start looking at the well-manicured grass lawns, the winding, stony pathways and the flower plants, mostly red roses. According to the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC), which maintains this cemetery among many others in the world, there are 1,420 Commonwealth burials of the Second World War at this cemetery, and a memorial to an additional 917 Hindu and Sikh soldiers who were cremated in accordance with their faith. The memorials are in the form of stone markers embedded with bronze plaques carrying the name of each Commonwealth soldier who died on the Kohima battlefield.
It is when you start looking at the seemingly uniform epitaphs that you enter a different metaphysical world. You may start from anywhere and initially these may seem quite uniform, military-style and you may be capturing the names of regiment, persons and symbols along with the messages and words written on them. Some of them are deeply personal, touching and one is bound to be moved by the sincerity of them - often by a father, a wife, a sister, family member or friends.
While the plaques are uniform in nature, the messages and their variety will create vivid pictures in your mind and keep you engaged. These memorials truly reflect the Commonwealth or the British Raj of those times. The soldiers who laid down their lives were from Britain, Scotland, India (all of India), Sri Lanka belonging to different faiths.
There was Gyan Bahdur Limbu, 7th Gurkha Rifles, age twenty-two. I repeat twenty-two.
Corporal Fletcher, Manchester Regiment, age twenty-six.
Captain Mitchel, of Rajput Regiment with a beautiful message "We have fought the good fight. Grant to us, eternal rest, O Lord!"
There was a Mr. Mathew, there was Muhammad Sakhi and many more.
Some of the other messages were
"When you go home tell them of us and say for your tomorrow we gave our today"
Yet, there were many that did not have names or their religion could not have been established. They were simply named 'A soldier of the 1939-45 War. Known to God' 
So, this land, this country, belongs to all of them. They have lost their lives, fed this earth with their bones and blood. Their children, grandchildren, their neighbours, friends are all here. With or without papers or documents. A nation is not a paper or a few letters written down on a passport. It is far more. It is an idea, shared ideal rather for which people are willing to travel thousands of miles to risk it all and lay down their lives. Fight shoulder to shoulder, as soldiers, as brothers, in life and in death, without any other thought than that of valour and victory. A nation is that what unites, binds us together.
