Episode 3 Dangerous Borders: A Journey across India & Pakistan

This is one of the world's most dangerous borders,

dividing two nations - India and Pakistan.

2,000 miles long, it slices through extraordinary landscapes

and divides millions of people who once lived alongside each other.

I'm Babita Sharma, and I'm a journalist.

My family, as Hindus,

were forced to move into what became independent India.

Primarily, I identify with being British.

That's who I am, I was born and brought up in Britain.

But I'm also really passionate about my culture as an Indian person.

I'm going to be travelling the border from the Indian side.

Wow! It's mind-blowing!

I'm Adnan Sarwar.

I was in the British Army and now work for The Economist.

My Muslim parents were born in what is now Pakistan.

I've got to know what it means to be a Pakistani

and what it means to these people here living as Pakistanis, and

what it means to my mum and dad to be Pakistanis.

I'm going to be travelling the length of the border

on the Pakistani side, a country that's just 70 years old.

Have you ever seen water like this? Look at the colour of it.

When Britain gave India its independence, it split

the nation along religious lines, carving out a new Muslim state.

EXPLOSIONS Since then, there has been frequent conflict along this border,

that, to this day, very few can cross.

You can't know Pakistan unless you know partition.

GUNSHOTS RING OUT They're just saying we want independence.

"Go, India, go Pakistan. We just want to be free."

Yet, after two generations apart, these two countries, with such strong ties to Britain,

still have so much in common and so much to celebrate.

-DRUMS PLAY

-It's fantastic. We're going to have a great night here tonight.

My gosh, I've just found a whole new family I didn't even know existed.

We are making two journeys with the same goal -

to discover how a line on the map has altered

the destinies of two countries that used to be one.

For the last three weeks,

Babita and I have been travelling on either side of the border

that divides India and Pakistan, from South to North.

I am just on the outskirts of Islamabad, here.

And I want to get up to Gilgit, which is here.

We've both clocked up about 800 miles

and we're now beginning the final leg of our journeys.

I plan to explore Pakistan's remote North, heading to the

city of Gilgit, passing through the Hunza Valley and ending

my journey in Thalay, just 25 miles from the disputed border with India

where troops face each other in a bitter stand-off.

The two countries have fought four wars since partition -

in 1947, '65, '71 and '99.

Getting to film with the Pakistani military is not easy,

but weeks of trying have finally paid off.

This is very exciting.

Today we've managed to get ourselves onto a Pakistani Air Force base,

so we have got access to Pakistani pilots.

Pakistan's air force plays a key role in protecting the nation.

It's a modern military with a threat, you know,

the next-door neighbour it's always having arguments with,

it's had wars with.

The Armed Forces are close to my heart.

I spent eight years in the British Army as a Royal engineer

and did two tours of Iraq.

I feel at home here, because it's military.

And I just recognise all the, you know, the barracks

and the parade squares and things, like that, it's really cool.

Pakistan's defence budget is over £6 billion.

That's a pretty sobering figure.

10 times more than the government spend on education.

The country is making huge arms deals with its neighbour, China,

to buy fighter jets and submarines.

And with over 600,000 military personnel,

their Armed Forces are growing.

..starting to ease up on the horizon.

196 knots, starting to ease up on the horizon.

-Pitch and roll, pitch and roll...

-I'm meeting some new recruits

and I'm surprised to see 22-year-old Rabia.

She's one of four women on a cadet course,

training to be a fighter pilot.

I was just listening to you doing that.

I think you're the kind of person I'd probably be

copying my homework off.

What's your background, how did you get into the air force?

I personally do think that in modern times like this,

women should share the responsibilities of their male

brothers in defending their motherland.

I get the feeling that was a bit of a rehearsed PR line.

I may need to break out a bit of northern charm to get Rabia to open up.

We do our simulator based training here.

I'm going to take this scarf off in case it flies off.

There we go, we have taken off.

This is really cool.

It is cool, but I think it is a big responsibility on our shoulders,

handling this aircraft.

-Yes.

-It is worth a lot of money.

See, once we are flying, we are responsible for everyone down there.

What if this jet crashes?

So I am responsible for myself, I am responsible for this asset

of my nation, and I am responsible for the lives that are down there.

I find attitudes towards women in Pakistan confusing.

On the one hand there are women like Rabia,

but it's still a deeply conservative society, where most are

expected to follow the traditional roles of marriage and motherhood.

You're a female pilot in Pakistan,

which would surprise some people, which is unfortunate,

but it would surprise some people.

What do your parents think about your chosen career?

My father, he takes immense pride in this, that I am his daughter

and I'm in the air force.

My father is the one who encouraged me to choose this career as a girl.

The Armed Forces and Pakistan are notoriously elitist, but unlike

most new recruits, Rabia's family have no military connections.

With the support of her father,

she's been able to follow her childhood dream.

Even if you do end up becoming a commercial pilot,

we should go and get a flight together.

-Cos they're not letting me get in this thing.

-No, I would never choose to be a commercial pilot.

Never a commercial pilot, always in the military.

OK, so you're quite proud of your country?

Yes, I'm quite proud of my country

and I'm quite proud of wearing this uniform.

With relations as they are, a fifth war with their neighbours

India isn't regarded as impossible around here.

-Do you ever imagine going to war?

-Imagine going to war?

Inshallah, if Allah gives me a chance that there will be a war,

then I'll, inshallah, play my role in that.

Who would Pakistan be fighting?

Anyone who are going to go against us.

We're going to fight them back with all that we have.

Rabia straps in for a test fight.

I'd love to jump in, but there's no room for passengers.

When I was in the British Army, I fought in Iraq,

thousands of miles away from home in Burnley.

If Rabia goes to war,

there's a good chance she'll be fighting much closer to home.

I hope trailblazers like Rabia are changing

the perception of what it means to be a woman in Pakistan.

But more than that, I hope her skills are never called upon.

She doesn't think she's cool! She's bloody cool. She's cool.

See, it's the image of the Pakistani woman, the meek Pakistani woman,

hiding away in the kitchen with a burqa on and stuff.

Try telling Rabia that, you know, she'll fly a jet at ya!

I'm 300 miles from where Adnan is across the border in India

and here they're just as battle ready.

700,000 soldiers patrol this area, it's a militarised zone.

One of the most militarised zones on the planet!

But you'd never guess it from these views.

With snow-capped mountains, green valleys and natural lakes,

I can't wait to get going.

The last stage of my journey starts here, in Jammu.

I plan to head north to Katra,

following the contested border with Pakistan to Srinagar,

passing through Kargil, and ending my journey

in the Buddhist enclave of Leh -

a total of 430 miles.

My mum came here in 1964 when she was 20.

And she has talked about it so fondly, saying it's

one of the most beautiful places that she's ever seen.

Yet I've grown up hearing about all the problems Kashmir has,

the violence and the killings and the tensions.

At partition, Jammu and Kashmir was majority Muslim, but it

became part of India, something Pakistan refused to accept.

The two countries have never agreed on an international border here,

and ownership of the state has been violently disputed to this day.

Western journalists are not welcome here, so we enter Kashmir without

official permission, filming only on mobile phones and stills cameras.

Feeling really nervous about it.

We just can't risk being caught and stopped.

'But I think it's a risk worth taking.

'People's stories need to be heard

because this is the sharp end of partition.'

Thank you, Babeshji.

Akeel!

'My guide Akeel has been covering Kashmir's turmoils

'since the late '90s.'

And we're going straight into it.

I've asked Akeel to take me

to Jammu's heavily militarised international border,

where India and Pakistan regularly exchange fire.

There is the post in front of us - "Welcome to border security forces.

"First line of defence," it says.

Looking like tourists, we step out, filming on our mobile phones.

I'm only a few hundred metres from a Pakistani military post.

India-Pakistan.

I'm just taking a sneaky video before we're kicked out.

But there it is.

"Proud to be Indian. And proud to be Muslim.

70 years ago, I could have caught a train straight through

here to Sialkot in Pakistan,

but the line was abandoned after partition

and the border closed.

Smile!

And we're just being watched by a lot of the security forces.

There is an unreal edge to this place.

Although foreign media aren't welcome, local tourists are.

There is even a sweet shop run by Makhan Singh.

IN HINDI

Oh, you've been born and brought up in this place?

What's life like?

-Risky life.

-Risky life?

-Yes, risky life.

That's putting it mildly. Makhan has some unusual items on display.

IN HINDI

This is a mortar shell.

POK stands for...?

Oh, wow! It hasn't blasted.

He's just showing me some pictures of the things that he's seen.

IN HINDI

-So this is from the nearby...

-The nearby villages.

-And this heavy shelling came from Pakistan side?

-Pakistan side.

HE SPEAKS IN HINDI

It's hard to detect the military's strategy behind this.

It all seems to be pretty indiscriminate.

Makhan's saying, well, he told us about two villages that have

been really affected by the cross-border shelling, so we're

going to go and see if we can go and speak to a few people in the village.

It's a border, an international border.

And just behind it is Pakistan.

There is the community hall.

-Oh, you can see bullet marks.

-Shell marks, bullet marks.

You can see it riddled with shrapnel.

Pieces of shrapnel have gone straight through.

And it goes on and on.

-This is...

-This is the bunker.

-This is the bunker here?

-Yeah.

Akeel tells me the Indian government has built bunkers

along the border to help protect residents from Pakistani shelling.

I'll just ask him... Uncle?

HE REPLIES IN HINDI

Thank you.

'Tit-for-tat skirmishes between India and Pakistan continue to

'plague people living on both sides of the border.

'28 people were killed last year by cross-border shooting and shelling.'

So, this is one of the bunkers of the village.

And it's very well concealed because they don't want it to be

targeted by any shelling,

so you've got all these plants that almost look like

it's merging into, into the village landscape here.

This level of protection is not just for show.

Uncle can't sit for too long, so he's just going to lie down.

HE GROANS

-He's tired.

-He's tired.

His son's widow is Rajni.

Tell me what happened.

In, in the back of the head?

COUGHING

'Families like Geet Singh's, who farm land along the border,

'have nowhere else to go.

'And it's ordinary people like them, on both sides of the line,

'who are paying the price for political tension.'

You can just see the hopelessness in their eyes.

That is the reality of what life is like here on the border

between India and Pakistan.

'The partition line may have been drawn 70 years ago but this

'place is a reminder that this conflict is still very much alive.'

Just 50 miles from the border,

the fear the Indians feel is also shared here in Pakistan.

But where I am, at 4,000 feet high up in the mountains,

the fear comes from an internal threat -

the Pakistani Taliban operate here.

Assalaamu Alaikum.

THEY SPEAK IN URDU

We've been stopped about six, seven times now by security and police.

At every scooter check point we've got to, they've said, you know, "Are you foreigners?

"We need to put somebody in the vehicle with you or send a vehicle with you."

With some of the highest mountains in the world, this area once

had a thriving tourist trade.

But four years ago, a group of Islamist extremists stormed

a mountain camp and shot dead 10 foreign climbers

and their Pakistani guide.'

THEY SPEAK IN URDU

We've got a guy in the back who won't be filmed, he's got an AK-47.

He's going to take us to the next checkpoint

and then be delivered back and then we might get another one.

They want to get us foreigners from A to B as safely as possible.

Erm, yeah, Pakistan's had, you know, its own headlines, hasn't it?

And it doesn't want any more, it doesn't need that.

Since I've been here, there's been 14 terrorist attacks

across the country, and it's clear security forces really do

have a battle on their hands.

One that's cost thousands of lives and billions of pounds to fight.

I've got another three hours of driving. It's a long road ahead.

On the Indian side of the border,

I'll be leaving the treacherous mountain roads to Adnan.

I'm leaving Jammu.

Yes.

We've ditched the crew vehicle and bought tickets on a local train.

This is packed, it's heaving.

I'm heading 30 miles north

to the spectacular hills of the lower Himalayas.

This Jammu express to Katra only opened about two years ago.

The rail line isn't completely finished

because its destination, at some point in the future,

is to go all the way to Srinagar in Kashmir.

CHILDREN CHEER AND SCREAM

When it's finished, the railway line will stretch over 200 miles.

To navigate the rocky landscape,

engineers are building the world's highest railway bridge,

35 metres taller than the Eiffel Tower

and costing around £70 million.

This isn't your everyday commute, most of the passengers

are on a pilgrimage to one of the holiest sites in the Hindu religion,

the Shri Mata Vaishno Devi Shrine in Katra.

It attracts around 8 million visitors every year,

and is open 24 hours a day.

It's a great chance for me to reconnect with my roots.

There's only one problem, though.

The shrine is a seven mile trek to the top of the mountain.

So, here we go, we are starting our walk up to

Vaishno Devi Shrine.

And it's going to take us five hours to get to the top.

And we're using our feet. We're not going to take the easy route

and go on all these beautiful horses and donkeys.

Vaishno Devi is a manifestation of the mother goddess Shakti,

and is believed to bestow strength to the weak,

sight to the blind, wealth to the poor

and bless childless couples with children.

DRUMS PLAY Whoo!

'But you don't have to be Hindu to make this journey.

'It's a family outing for everyone.'

Whoo!

She's not tired at all!

29! Oh-ho!

But just making this trip once is a huge honour for every Hindu.

Wow.

As a sign of their faith,

some worshippers bow their body length all the way to the shrine.

That's over 6,000 agonising bows to the ground.

The faith of the people here is incredible.

-Faith, it's big, yeah.

-It is sheer devotion, isn't it?

-Yes...

And THAT is also sheer devotion,

trying to push that up the hill, that's incredible.

14,000 steps and a few blisters later, we've made it.

We've reached the top and that view...

SHE GASPS ..is awesome!

BUZZ OF CHATTER

It's forbidden to take cameras into the shrine

but this is religion in the 21st century.

Once inside the cave, pilgrims greet three decorated rocks

that symbolise Hindu goddesses.

Everybody's giving offerings, their pujas, their prayers

and leaving gifts for the holy shrine.

Legend has it that those who visit the shrine will be granted

any wish they make.

Shall we go in?

I head into the cave to make my wish, without the camera.

Mum, did it!

It's only taken me 53 years after you!

The shrine at Katra shows the power

and importance of religion in this region.

But religion hasn't always been as divisive as it is today.

My long drive is coming to an end.

I'm travelling through the state of Gilgit-Baltistan.

Before partition, this was part of the independent state

of Jammu and Kashmir, ruled over by a Hindu prince.

For 100 years, the people of these valleys lived peacefully together,

but in 1947, there was a Muslim uprising

and war broke out, splitting the territory in two.

And signs of the old state are still clear to see.

After one quick phone call,

I'm off to meet the oldest man in the village.

He would have been around when this area split from Kashmir.

You can see why people would want to fight over this land.

Hello!

I find Dr Sharif surrounded by his friends and family.

I can't think of a better place to grow old.

Oh, wow.

Look at the size of that football! It's massive.

He may be getting on but his memory is still fresh.

Dr Sharif tells me he joined a paramilitary group in 1947,

called the Gilgit Scouts, that helped secure Gilgit for Pakistan.

A few months later, the Pakistani flag was raised in Gilgit,

effectively splitting Kashmir in two.

How do you feel now?

Do you feel that this land should all be together, still,

or is it better that it's split?

'It's clear Dr Sharif is full of national pride.

'But there's one more thing he's really passionate about.'

Oh, wow. 'Polo.'

I find out Dr Sharif captained the Gilgit Scouts polo team for three years,

winning the prestigious Shandu polo tournament in 1965.

Back home, Polo's the preserve of the rich. Not here.

We're at the polo in Gilgit and it's just...

So many people here and the police are scuffling with people

who are trying to get in, it's just so exciting.

This is bigger than football, isn't it?

WHISTLES BLOW

Driven by armed guard, Dr Sharif arrives.

He hasn't played a polo match in decades

but the fans have not forgotten him.

He is a living legend.

And while hundreds of people fight to get a good view...

..I've landed the best seat in the house.

His old team, renamed the Northern Scouts,

are playing their rivals, the Gilgit-Baltistan police force.

I can't make out the rules.

Luckily, Dr Sharif's son is on hand to explain.

No rules?

You're allowed to hit the other player?

This freestyle polo has been played in northern Pakistan

since the 15th century and originates from ancient Persia.

Back in the day, legend has it that polo was played with

the chopped-off heads of captured enemies,

as a symbol of victory. These days, it's just played with a ball.

This no rules polo has claimed its first casualty.

CROWD CHEERS

The police win the game, 9-4.

DRUMMING AND CHEERING

Even with Kalashnikovs in hand, they break into a traditional

celebration dance, rubbing the victory in their rivals' faces.

I'm 130 miles from Adnan, in Srinagar,

the largest city in Jammu and Kashmir.

Everywhere I look, I can see the Indian Army.

700,000 security forces are based across this state.

That's one security officer for every 20 citizens.

No matter where you go around here, you're being watched.

You've got to just be really careful.

Many Kashmiris here don't want to be governed by India.

They want an independent state.

And it's here, in Srinagar, that their voices are the loudest.

The state is 70% Muslim,

making it the only state in India where Muslims are in the majority.

In 1989, militants began an uprising against the Indian forces

and since then, tens of thousands of people have been killed.

We've come to Jamia Masjid,

one of the biggest mosques here in Srinagar.

In the last nine months, it's this mosque that has been

the centre of violent protests,

the clashes between Kashmiris and the Indian Army.

We're about an hour away from Friday prayers.

And it's usually after the Friday prayers end that the protestors

spill out into the main streets around this mosque,

to protest against what the Kashmiris call

the Indian occupation of their land.

CALL TO PRAYER

Last year, during four months of mass protest

against the Indian Army,

more than 100 Kashmiri civilians were killed and 17,000 injured.

Outside, I meet a group of Kashmiris that have come to pray.

-Without reason.

-Without reason.

-Without reason.

India accuses Pakistan of involvement in the protests.

Every Friday, like clockwork, Indian security forces surround the mosque.

What have you seen?

CAR HORNS BEEP

As Friday prayers end, a protest breaks out.

CROWD CHANTS:

The gates to the mosque are locked, keeping protesters inside

and stopping them from spilling into the busy streets.

I can't quite believe what I'm seeing.

The Indian Army have got these slingshots, and they're

picking up the stones that have been thrown at them, firing stones back.

On the other side of the gates, I get my first glimpse

of the protesters, and I'm surprised to see how young they are.

Well, I wasn't expecting to see a Pakistani flag, but that's

a very blatant political message from one of the protesters there.

If you listen to them, they're just saying, "Go, India.

"We just want to be free."

The protest quickly escalates.

Let's pull out, guys, pull out.

And after several near misses, we decide to pull back.

Indian forces fire tear gas.

But the young Kashmir protesters throw it back.

It's pepper...

SHE COUGHS

You can really feel the effects of the tear gas that's just been fired.

There's been about five or six canisters.

Violence starts to break out in the crowd, so we decide to leave.

In 2017, it's almost like partition

is happening over and over again. Every week.

People are still feeling it.

And it's now the next generation.

Everyone there today was really young. And...

..that is, for me, the consequence of what happened 70 years ago.

It's an angry, frustrated voice that will do anything to be heard.

Yesterday's protest opened my eyes.

Two and a half decades of rebellion against India

have taken their toll on the Kashmiri people.

-Hello, morning.

-Hello. How are you?

Artists like Massoud are trying new ways to highlight their struggle.

We have a lot of death and destruction.

Worst affected are our children.

When you see the kids carrying out these protests

and throwing stones and...

angry, violent, who do you blame for that?

Imagine the people born during this period.

They haven't seen anything except violence.

So they were born under the shadow of gun.

It's alleged that during protests last year, more than 1,000 Kashmiris

were shot in the face with pellet guns by the Indian security forces.

Many are said to have been permanently blinded,

lots of them children.

So these are the silent images, 2016.

Digital art.

I uploaded those images on social media

so that it could reach to the masses.

It's a very powerful image, and I can see how something like that

would create a lot of conversation and a lot of reaction from people.

-You can see the pain...

-Exactly.

-..in your art.

This...

That's Gandhi.

These are the hands of a small boy.

Because of these pellets, he has lost both the eyes.

So now he has to search for peace,

so he feels the statue of Gandhi with his...

Hands. The father of... peace and freedom.

Srinagar is so beautiful, it's a tragedy that more people

don't get to see it because of the security situation.

This is Dal Lake.

Locally it's known as the jewel in the crown of Kashmir.

That view.

Surrounded by the Pir Panjal mountains,

the lake covers over eight square miles.

George Harrison chilled out here in the '60s

and played the sitar with Ravi Shankar.

What are all of these?

These are houseboats. These are just like your hotel on the waters.

-It's also called Venice.

-The Little Venice of Kashmir.

I can see why.

But unlike Venice, this is deserted. It feels like there's no-one around.

-No diners at the restaurant.

-No.

Everything, all the shops, completely emptied.

It used to be full of tourists.

Over 1 million tourists visited Kashmir in 2015.

But since then, tourist numbers have dwindled to almost nothing.

It's soul destroying to think that people aren't coming here

because of all the fighting and the violence.

And that side of Kashmir just doesn't fit with this,

which is serene, calm and tranquil.

This is what Kashmiris want the world to see.

While other parts of India are moving forward, Kashmir is stuck

fighting this internal conflict, and it could hold them back for decades.

Pakistan, on the other hand,

is forging a new alliance with a powerful neighbour.

I'm travelling along the Karakoram Highway.

It's an 800-mile stretch of road that goes all the way to China.

It's one of the highest paved roads on earth.

Built by Pakistan and China, it's a major trade route, helping to

generate £11 billion of trade a year between the two countries.

We've been on the Karakoram Highway a few days now.

This last stretch has just been really smooth and developed

and safe.

And it's this friendship and this relationship that the Chinese

have got with the Pakistanis, it feels like something is happening.

That's the thing, it feels like something is happening.

In return, the Karakoram Highway gives China direct road access to

Gwadar port on Pakistan's coast,

where traffic from Chinese commercial

and naval vessels is growing.

And for Pakistan, it's opened up remote areas like Attabad Lake to tourism.

Have you ever seen water like this? Look at the colour of it.

Shoaib captains a boat, taking visitors on the lake.

Shoaib tells me the lake was formed after a massive

landslide at Attabad village in 2010, killing 20 people.

It blocked the flow of the Hunza River,

slowly forming this lake over seven months.

There is just little bits, you can see evidence of people's houses.

The original Karakoram Highway also disappeared with the village underwater.

To restore this vital trade link and bypass the lake, China and Pakistan

built a series of bridges and tunnels, costing over £200 million.

That's the tunnel that the Chinese built with the Pakistanis,

seven kilometres long, four point... 4.5 miles, something like that.

The China connection is big.

The two countries have now signed a £46 billion

series of construction deals

that should rapidly modernise Pakistani infrastructure

and strengthen the economy.

How do you see the future of Pakistan?

Do you see a burst of trade with China

and a burst of trade with the world?

I drive further up the Karakoram Highway and, after an hour,

reach the Passu Glacier.

It waters this high altitude farmland,

providing food for the remote communities.

I'm now only 60 miles from China.

Most of the people here are Ismaili Muslims,

one of the more moderate sections of Islam.

Hello. Assalaamu Alaikum.

They speak Wakhi, and have Aryan origins.

Unlike some ultraconservative parts of Pakistan,

where girls are stopped from going to school, education here,

especially for girls, is really valued.

What are you going to be, what are you going to do with your lives?

-Doctor.

-Doctor?

-Doctor.

-Doctor.

-Doctor.

-Doctor.

-Teacher.

-Teacher.

-Heart doctor.

-Heart doctor.

-Eye doctor.

-Eye doctor.

This is what all villages in Pakistan could look like,

if all students, regardless of gender,

are given the same opportunities.

And it's all made possible through a mixture of government

and private schools, and academies funded by international foundations.

Assalaamu Alaikum. Assalaamu Alaikum.

-A little bit English.

-A little bit, OK. Great. This is your field?

-Yeah, this is my field.

-What do you grow?

-Potatoes and some vegetables.

Then we have wheat also, the green field is wheat.

-Where did you learn English?

-When we were going to school,

from classics, we start just A, B, C.

-Does everybody learn English?

-Nowadays, yes, everyone.

-Wow.

In this area we have good schools here,

especially this village, 100% literacy.

-100% literacy levels?

-Yeah, in this village.

It's probably more than Burnley.

Education has given Ijaz's children opportunities he only dreamt of.

He tells me his eldest daughter is studying a Masters degree

in economics at Islamabad University.

She plans to return to the village and become a banker.

Looking at all the development that's gone on in Pakistan, and one

of the big things I've seen is the Chinese development and the road.

Do you the kids might end up learning Chinese?

First they will learn English and nowadays the Chinese also.

Because of the road and all this.

I just think Pakistan is lucky to have this forward kind of thinking.

You know, you've got this really young,

vibrant, bursting population who are really educated.

On the border with China.

It's huge.

By forging a relationship with China,

and by putting education at the forefront of children's development,

it feels this remote northern area is headed in the right direction.

100 miles from Anand in India, I've spent most of my time

avoiding treacherous mountain drives.

But now, I can no longer avoid it.

I'm heading along the Zojila Pass in the Himalayan ranges.

At over 11,000 feet,

this is one of the most dangerous stretches of road in the world.

I can see the rocks falling, I've seen a few coming down.

ENGINE STUTTERS

Oh, dear, that doesn't sound very healthy.

You don't want a breakdown on this road, there's no AA around here.

Wow.

It might be the lifeline from Srinagar to Kargil,

but you could well lose your life on this pass.

Kargil is my next stop.

It's where the last war was fought between India and Pakistan in 1999.

The border in this region is not like the international border

I visited at the start of my journey in Jammu.

It's called the Line of Control, also known as the LOC.

It roughly marks the military front where India

and Pakistan declared a ceasefire line in 1949.

It's not an official border, but acts as a boundary

between the two hostile countries, running for 460 miles.

And it's split thousands of families

who live apart in neighbouring villages.

Assalaamu Alaikum. Babita.

Sajid Hussein has lived here his whole life.

We are in the Line of Control. This is Hunderman village...

from Indian side, which comes under Kargil district.

And that village is Brolmo village. Brolmo village is in Pakistan.

-And the Line of Control runs directly through this area?

-Yeah.

I can see that Pakistani village from here.

And there can't be more than five kilometres separating them.

It's just two or three kilometres away from the villages.

So there are families that are from this village that have

family in that village over there.

Yes, of course.

Hi.

Saeed Rizvi has a half brother

living just over the border in Pakistan.

Oh, lots of pictures.

You look so different. SHE LAUGHS

-This is him, here, at 38?

-30 years.

That's his brother.

He tells me if he could cross the Line of Control,

he could visit his brother within hours.

How far is your brother's house to where you are now?

Instead of this short trip, Saeed must take a 1,600 mile detour

around the Line of Control that can take up to 15 days.

He's only been able to visit his brother once.

Most families simply can't afford it.

Do you know how many families are divided like yours?

And some probably have never seen their families.

Some families have waited a generation to meet

their relatives on both sides of the Line of Control.

I can't help but feel it's like the Berlin Wall of Asia.

Not just dividing families, but communities,

who for centuries used to live together.

It's taken us days to get here, but I'm so glad that we came.

Because I had no idea that partition affected people

this far north of the border.

It's heartbreaking...

..to think that today...

..families can't be together.

70 miles away in Pakistan, my journey is coming to an end.

Over the last five weeks, I've travelled over 1,400 miles,

crossing three states.

I'm now high up in the Thalay Valley.

53 miles east is the Siachen Glacier,

the highest battlefield in the world, where even now Pakistan

and India are locked in a stalemate over whose land this really is.

But the people that live here

just seem to be getting on with their lives.

Hello, baby. That tongue feels lovely.

Seven decades of bitter separation have cost both Pakistan

and India dearly.

Not just in terms of military spending and lost lives, but also

at the cost of trade, which would massively benefit the two nations.

On this journey, I've seen so many reasons to be positive,

and it's all down to the people that I've met,

who, despite all the problems, are just getting on with things

and moving this country forward into the 21st century.

The Pakistan that I've met today is a young country,

it's a 70-year-old country, and it's trying to work itself out.

It's trying to work itself out with that really awkward

conversation it's got to have with its neighbour.

About how they, you know, fell out 70 years ago.

I'm leaving Pakistan with a real sense of optimism for the future.

And not just for this country, but for myself, as a British Pakistani.

This is the end of my journey here in Pakistan.

It's not the end of my relationship with Pakistan.

I feel more of a Pakistani, feel like it's more of me,

and I feel like it's just going to get more

and more deeper as I visit this country more.

This is a part of me.

The end's in sight for me, too.

We've driven to Leh, where Buddhism is the main religion.

We've come to one of the biggest monasteries here, Hemis Monastery.

It's so peaceful. I can't think of a better way to end my journey.

Hemis Monastery dates back to the 1600s,

and attracts tourists from all over the world.

It's customary to make an offering to Buddha with flowers,

candles, fruit, incense or water.

Offering water symbolises purity and clarity of mind.

We're just walking around this beautiful,

huge statue of Buddha here.

Many of the people that come here, tourists and also Buddhists,

do the same walk.

And one is the minimum, but if you can do three,

that's considered auspicious.

But here the monks walk around

sometimes thousands and thousands of times.

I came on this journey to find out what India has become

70 years after partition.

And what I witnessed in Kashmir has affected me the most.

What do you think about the problems of Jammu and Kashmir?

When I started my journey five weeks ago in the southern state

of Gujarat, I got a sense that partition was starting to fade into history.

But as I made my way north through Rajasthan, then the Punjab

and now Kashmir, the legacy of partition grew stronger and more bitter.

From the innocent victims living in fear along the border, to the

Kashmiris who feel oppressed in their own land.

The truth is, is that I...

realise how partition has ripped the heart out of India.

And to this day, people are still suffering.

And it breaks my heart to think that this power struggle

between Pakistan and India is preventing peace today in 2017.

Would you like to find out more about why India was partitioned

and Pakistan created?

Delve deeper into the history and psychology

with our academic experts at...

..and follow the links to the Open University.