4 June 2020
What would Aziz and Fielding be thinking of in the last scene of EM Forster’s novel A Passage to India? They had been great friends but did not manage to remain so largely because of their inherently conflicting identities. The last few paragraphs describe how they moved further away from one another on a split path. The east-west divide as embodied by Aziz as a Muslim doctor, and Fielding as an English schoolteacher could not have been greater. When the novel was published on 4 June 1924, EM Forster would not have predicted that the split path taken by Aziz and Fielding’s horses further separated them from one another. If the story had continued, Dr. Aziz would have most likely ended up in Pakistan.
When the border was drafted in 1947, no one would have imagined how the arrangement impacted on her life. It is not as though there are no similar historical events to refer to, but we normally refuse to admit that we make history. We are part of it. Those who acknowledged its significance simply couldn’t think straight in the face of a crisis, and might have made a wrong path that led to a life of regrets. Think of the border between the north and the south of Korea, the wall that once divided the east and the west of Berlin, or the border that had once separated Hong Kong from China, and how they divide(d) family, lovers, and friends. At the dawn of a border closure, how often do you see people betting on their luck and keep procrastinating at a time that requires decisiveness and courage? We do the same over and over again; we lament on our missed opportunities and exclaim: If I had known, only when it is too late.
Opportunities are abundant in a democratic and civilized society so much so that people are not too worried even if they miss one. Why? Because they can rely on a fair system that ensures the next boat will come on time if you miss the one before. But what if the system is run by a bunch of people with small talents at best, or a government full of evil-minded petty knaves? There is no shortage of such governments. I happen to be quite familiar with one that I have just escaped from. I once stood on that split path, wondering which direction to take. The moment of hesitation wasn’t due to my lack of understanding of the situation; a tinge of sadness arose from my emotional ties with my family and friends, knowing that most of them would choose to remain.
It would have been fine if my dear ones had remained at the fork of the path, so every time I go back, I will always find them there. Life is, however, beyond our control. Just when I am moving towards freedom, I received news from my sister telling me that she is taking, or shall I say, being forced to take a remarkably different path. She has recently been assigned a new post in the civil service, and everyone knows as much as I do that she has no choice over her job duties, let alone her post. Anyone with a right mind will find it hard to work on the Belt and Road project which is nothing but synonymous to corruption and debt. I have no doubt about my sister’s competence and work ethics, but I can see her walking away from the fork. Never mind the grand plan or the strategies that were once laid out. They were sound enough, in fact too good to be true. While some countries including Australia are calling for a halt of this Initiative, thinking that the project needs reassessment, Hong Kong is being pushed into it, whether its people like it or not. If Australians are not happy with the path their government is taking them, they can at least vote the leaders out. Unfortunately, Hong Kong can’t do that.
As for now, all I know is my sister and I are moving along our own path, further away from the fork which, maybe in two or three decades’ time, gets muddy and could possibly expand into a border.