Pakistan Born Hindu Doctor in India

Ashok Ogra

ashokogra@gmail.com

If there is one issue that continues to attract attention among those in Pakistan who seek to further the idea of "purifying the land of the pure," it is the treatment of the country's religious minorities. When Pakistan-described by Salman Rushdie as an "insufficiently imagined" nation-came into existence in 1947, Jinnah declared that there would be no discrimination on the basis of religion. However, an influential section of the Muslim League viewed this position as a departure from the two-nation theory. Since then, Pakistan's journey towards establishing an Islamic state based on Sharia, as interpreted by dominant Sunni religious scholars, has continued largely uninterrupted.

For minorities who remained in Pakistan after partition, reports of discrimination, religious conversions, and cases involving the abduction of minor girls contributed to concerns within sections of these communities about their future in the country. Over time, a number of Hindu and Sikh families migrated, many of them settling in India.

One such story is that of Dr. Mahadev O.Lohana, a Physician who spent much of his life in Sindh before eventually migrating to India in 2001. His journey as a Hindu in Pakistan offers a personal perspective on identity, belonging and resilience.

Dr.Lohana grew up in the 1970s in a remote desert town Islamkot in Sindh's Tharparkar district, where life revolved around agriculture, livestock, and community cooperation.

"Daily life was simple. Water was scarce, electricity limited, and travel difficult, but social bonds were strong. Hindus mostly worked as sharecroppers (Kisan) as tillers of the land owned by a Wadera (landlord). The region had a significant Hindu population. Hindus and Muslims lived together and shared many local customs and traditions," recalls Dr.Lohana.

Unlike the large, rural Hindu populations in Sindh, Hindus in Punjab are much smaller in number and often more urbanised - mostly engaged in business. They are often targeted and kidnapped for ransom.

The situation began to change dramatically after the adoption of Pakistan's 1973 Constitution that reduced all the minorities to second-class citizens. The Ahmadiyya community was declared non-Muslims. This was followed by General Zia's period of Islamisation, which strengthened the influence of Sunni religious conservatism in public life leading to the rise in the Shia-Sunni riots. The draconian blasphemy laws came into being, targeting innocent minority communities.

In this environment, it is no surprise that there was a sharp increase in the abduction of minor Hindu girls, their forced conversion, and subsequent marriage.

Dr.Lohana, points out that ''many reported cases involve Hindu girls from rural or economically vulnerable backgrounds, while the men involved are sometimes considerably older and, in certain instances, connected with local religious institutions.''

The Pakistan human rights groups also question whether minors possess the maturity and independence required to make such life-altering decisions without external influence. They also note that reports of Hindu boys converting to Islam and marrying Muslim women are extremely rare.

These ugly incidents are a source of persistent anxiety for many Hindu and Sikh families. There is a deep sense of vulnerability. When things go wrong, the state's protection often feels conditional rather than absolute.

"For a minority in Pakistan, police uniform often represents a source of pressure rather than protection. Retraining the mind to see the state as a shield instead of a threat is a long psychological journey," he observes.

When Dr Lohana moved from his village to Hyderabad, Sindh in the mid -1980s to pursue Medical studies, he experienced growing ethnic, political, and religious polarisation. Educational institutions often reflected these divisions, and minority students frequently found themselves navigating an environment where identity mattered as much as merit.

The awareness of discrimination, Dr. Lohana recalls, did not come through one dramatic incident but through a series of experiences. As a child, he noticed subtle barriers around food and social interaction. In educational settings, Hindu students were separated from Muslim students through different religious studies courses. Textbooks often portrayed Hindus as villains.

As he progressed through Medical education and professional life, these concerns became more institutional. While many Hindu doctors earned respect from patients because of their competence and dedication, advancement within state institutions was often more difficult.

These broader social realities continue to shape how the Hindu community in Pakistan plans its future. Families increasingly focus on education, particularly professional degrees such as medicine and engineering, and on skills which could provide opportunities abroad, including India.

The Sikh community, too, has witnessed a growing desire among some of its members to leave Pakistan and seek refuge elsewhere.

Dr Lohana elaborates: "In some cases, one family member migrates first, creating a foothold for others who might follow later. Migration is rarely a sudden decision; rather, it emerges from years of accumulated concerns."

Ultimately, in 2001, Dr.Lohana made the difficult decision to leave Pakistan and move to India.

However, the migration itself was emotionally and practically challenging. It meant leaving behind the ancestral home, familiar surroundings, professional networks, and lifelong memories. "But the decisive factor was the future of the family."

One observation he makes captures the complexity of the experience of being a migrant: "in Pakistan, he was identified primarily as a Hindu minority, while in India, he initially found himself identified as a migrant from Pakistan. Establishing a new life involved securing documentation, housing, education for children, and professional recognition. Obtaining citizenship and navigating bureaucratic processes took years. Starting again in a new country required enormous resilience," he adds.

Rebuilding a career in the Medical profession required patience. Medical qualifications obtained abroad needed recognition, and regulatory requirements had to be fulfilled before he could resume practice. Through determination and continued education, he expanded his credentials, earning additional qualifications and eventually serving in senior leadership positions within the healthcare sector.

Despite these difficulties, Dr. Lohana views his experience in India positively. Settling in Ahmedabad provided both familiarity and opportunity. Shared cultural traditions, linguistic similarities, and social acceptance helped ease the transition.

Today, Dr.Lohana describes India as offering a sense of psychological freedom that was often absent when living in Pakistan. "Here, festivals can be celebrated openly, professional opportunities are determined primarily by capability, and identity is not a constant source of concern."

Dr.Lohana sees his migration 'an escape from a "chronic weight"- the psychological burden of being a minority that I didn't realise I was carrying until I finally set it down.'

He strongly believes that Indian policymakers should recognise the unique challenges faced by persecuted minorities who migrate. Streamlined documentation procedures, and greater support during integration could help newcomers adjust to the new environment more quickly.

For the wider public, his message is one of empathy. Minority communities, he says, should not be viewed merely as statistics or political talking points. Behind every migration story are families, careers, memories, and difficult choices.

At the same time, he speaks of harmony between India and Pakistan. He believes that shared culture, language, music, and history remain powerful bridges. He advocates easier travel for divided families, expanded people-to-people contact, educational exchanges, and greater cooperation in fields such as healthcare and science.

He argues that the welfare of minorities in both countries should be seen as a measure of democratic maturity. When minorities feel secure and valued, they become bridges rather than barriers between societies.

For Hindus who continue to live in Pakistan, Dr. Lohana's advice is pragmatic: invest in education, maintain strong community networks, remain informed about legal rights, and preserve cultural identity.

He also emphasises that not every Hindu wishes to leave Pakistan. Many remain deeply attached to their ancestral land, businesses, professions, and communities. Others simply lack the resources required to migrate. For them, life is a daily struggle for survival, and the border often feels like a distant, unreachable dream. However, he cautions that if the persecution of minorities remains unabated, many more Hindu and Sikh families may seek to migrate to India.

His final reflection is deeply personal. Migrants, he says, carry an "invisible backpack" filled with memories, habits, anxieties, and survival instincts. Even after years in a new country, those experiences remain part of who they are.

Yet he views his own journey with gratitude rather than bitterness. Sindh remains the land of his roots, but India has become the place where those roots could grow into a future. His story, ultimately, is not only about migration. It is about identity, resilience, belonging, and the universal human desire to live with dignity, security, and hope.

(The author works for reputed Apeejay Education, New Delhi)