On a historic and celebrated road
I can't believe that I am standing on the Grand Trunk Road, the only road connecting India and Pakistan before 1967.One of Asia's oldest and longest roads, the GTR, linking Central Asia to the Indian Sub continent is said to be around 2500 years old, and 2500 km long. The road takes prominence in Rudyard Kipling's Kim. At the time of Independence in 1947, migrants from Pakistan entered India through this border crossing and vice versa. A staggering 12 to 15 million altogether.
The long walk
People are milling about unclear as to how to proceed. And then, just like that, two lines form: one for males and the other for females. I have to be separated from the menfolk apparenty until after the show. Disgruntled but not surprised I join my line which is relatively small compared to that of the other sex. We go through a security check. Bags , cigarettes and lighters are not allowed. Great! I can breathe safe. The driver had already warned us about bags and so we left them in the car. I had only my camera without its bag. We are frisked. Then we walk into the secure area until we reach another curtained booth where we are frisked again. The Indian Border Forces are not going to take any risks given a few untoward incidents in the previous years.
The walk of about a km takes more than 20 mins. We reach the amphitheatre which is on our left. To our right is the office of the Border guards. The females are shown the section aboutb 50 metres from the gates at the border. Closer to the gate is the section for foreigners (we opted against it since we'd have to carry our passports). Next to our section, furthur from the gate, was reserved for males. On the other side of the road were chairs meant for families of military personnel. There must have been at least 1000 spectators on the Indian side. On the other side of the gate is the Pakistan (Wahga) amphitheatre, very sparsely filled. Its hard to believe that Lahore (Pakistan) is only 30 km away. I lost sight of Drink.
.
Rousing the audience
At exactly 4:00 pm the emcee ( a prominent cricketer), dressed in white, welcomes the crowd. He is greeted with great enthusiasm by the crowd which has brought flags and sports faces painted in green, orange and white. Patriotic songs fill the area. The patriotism is contagious.
Military precision
Then the ceremonial guards appear. They appear in a variety of uniforms, all punctilous. The men in khaki uniforms sport moustaches (the Pakistanis are paid to groom them in a particular style!)and turbans with stiff fan folds forming the plumage atop. ( The Pakistan soldiers, visible from our seats, are dressed in black.) Marching involves kicking high and stomping hard. The incredibly precise and resonant inspiring military performance lasts for around 40 mins. In a particular segment women from the audience formed groups and, one after another, run towards the border proudly holding up the Indian flag, provided by the border service. A similar ceremony with battle cries simultaneously takes place on the other side of the border.
Undisguised hostility expressed tacitly
Just as the sun is about to set patriotic cries reach a crescendo. Decorous stern-faced guards march towards the border gate, again stomping heavily and kicking high, as if determined to unnerve their Pakistani counterparts. When the gates are opened, the march ends with the soldiers' facing ( literally glaring at)each other ( perhaps reflecting the undercurrent hostility) at the border. The guards salute each other, exchange brisk handshakes and then lower the flags in coordination. The gates close.
It is already dark and, gladly, as I walk out towards the town, I spot Drink.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments are welcome