DANCE OFF AT THE BORDER

Ever since independence and partition which split British India into 2 parts, a Hindu dominated India and a Muslim majority Pakistan, the border between the two has been one of the more disputed and contested borders in the world. At the time of partition, many parts of the subcontinent, including the Punjab area where we visited the border, were rocked by sectarian violence. The Punjab was split leading to the creation of two Punjabs; one Indian, one Pakistani. The partition led to the mass migration of people with Muslims living in India migrating to Pakistan and Hindus and Sikhs in Pakistan migrating in the opposite direction. The end result of this was horrific intercommunal violence; Muslims killing Hindus, Hindus killing Muslims and everyone it seems, killing Sikhs. The in fighting among people who were once neighbours cost up to 1,000,000 lives and has left wounds not fully healed today. Add in disputes of the Kashmir region further north of the Punjab, wars (like the one where Bangladesh became independent of Pakistan with Indian help in the early 1970s), nuclear tensions, religious fundamentalism on both sides of the border, terrorist bombings and attacks like the one in Mumbai in 2008 and it is clear that the relationship between India and Pakistan, and hence the border, is still volatile.

We visited the border at the Wagah crossing close to Amritsar, the city famous for being the home of the Sikh’s famous Golden Temple. This crossing has sometimes been called the “Berlin Wall of Asia”, although I would think that the DMZ that divides North and South Korea to be a better fit for that title. It was the only open border for a long time between the two rivals and porters would (and still do) ship goods from Lahore into India and vice versa. Even given all the history between India and Pakistan, it’s still unclear how the Wagah border closing ceremony has managed to become such a draw-card for tourists, local and foreign alike. On average, 8,000 people a day visit the Indian side of the border, a few less on the Pakistani side.

We arranged a trip to the border from Amritsar, about 50 kilometres away, in what turned out to be a cramped minivan, the only foreigners in a van of interested Indians. Indians are never backwards when it comes to talking to foreigners, (especially if you can talk cricket-speak) so it was easy to start up a good conversation with one of the Indian guys who was visiting Amritsar and the Punjab from India’s I.T capital, Bangalore. He was one of the rising Indian middle class that you hear about, with a good, well paying (by Indian standards) job and with materialistic dreams and ambitions that would have been beyond all but the wealthiest Indians a couple of generations ago. He was excited to see the border, witness the pomp and the ceremony. He told me about how Indians feel about Pakistan, the old bitterness and anxieties seeping through although he was one of the new guard of Indian society, with their own independent thoughts that weren’t necessarily linked to race, religion or caste.

Indian guards.

The draw-card at the border is the flag-lowering ceremony each evening, which is preceded by an energetic and over-zealous parade. We arrived at the border carpark a little late, so we had to walk the kilometer or so to the actual border quickly. Our new Indian acquaintances bid us a cheery farewell, warned us to stay vigilant and then took off into the crowd. Security was tight along the road but not overly so, certainly less than what I thought and much less than at the cricket game we would attend the next week in Mohali. The road was hemmed in by barbed wire on both sides. I guess this was to prevent curious tourists wandering off (the area may be mined) as much as to prevent terrorists from getting in. We rushed to the border, dodging people selling and waving Indian flags, vendors selling corn, running past women dragging children along to get a good spot at the paradet. However, when we arrived at the border, our rushing was for nought as foreigners are automatically sent to the front. We were gifted front row V.I.P seats to the spectacle.

Full crowd for the show

It is a spectacle. On both sides of the border, grandstands have been built. The atmosphere was comparable to the tension you feel before watching a rugby game. Maybe even more so, because both sets of fans if you carry on the analogy, are there and represented in force. On the Indian side, people had painted their face in orange, white and green, large Indian flags were being waved, cheers were raised. The grandstand was a cacophony of colour, the green, white and orange against a colourful backdrop of saris. On the Pakistani side, things were less raucous. Men and women were divided, with separate grandstands for both genders. Both sides had loudspeakers that were used for the purpose of distilling patriotic measures. On the Indian side, they were loud cheers in response to “Hindustan Zindabad” (which means Long Live India) and Bharat Mata Ki Jai (Hail Mother India). On the Pakistani side, the announcements managed to sound sinister and rousing at the same time. It had cries of Pakistan, Pakistan and what I think was God is great, Pakistan is great as well as a similarly themed “Pakistan Zindabad”. Of course, it was hard to hear what was going on over on the Pakistani side as the noise was deafening on the Indian side. Periodically, they would play Bollywood songs over the loudspeakers, no doubt expressing some form of patriotism.

Pakistani and Indian guards: I can kick higher than you.

It got louder still when the parade started. After all, national prestige is on the line. It’s hard to explain the parade. Part farce (recalling Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Walks), part menace (Michael Palin described it as “chauvinism at its most camp”) and a large dash of pomp. It is a kind of high-stepping dance-off as members of the Indian Border Security Force and Pakistan Rangers (generally very tall men) march towards one another, snorting and stamping like a crazed and drugged rodeo horse. They wear turbans topped with huge fans, strutting up and down the tarmac in shiny black platform boots, crazed eyes blazing, waxed moustaches twitching. The high kicks they do where they touch the turbans with their boot in a remarkable display of dexterity are pretty amazing, although I would have to take a guess and say that a few pairs of trousers have probably been split in the process. Bear in mind that as the Indian soldiers go through this bizarre parade, basically, the same thing is happening on the Pakistani side of the border. I didn’t know this until later but apparently; the participants are imitating the pride and anger of a rooster. All of this cockiness is in the name of a ceremonial lowering of the flags, a tradition that started in 1959. After the strutting ends and the sun is about to set, the iron gate on the border is opened and the flags are slowly lowered with great cheering, at exactly the same speed, so one is never higher than the other. The flags are then folded and the ceremony ends with a handshake.

Lowering the flag ceremony

That handshake, as well as the co-operation between the guards, serves as a barometer for feelings between the two countries. The repercussions of the decision to divide India are still felt now (I’m not saying that one country would be better, just that there are still a lot of disagreements between the two). The partition of India was opposed by most senior members of the Congress Party, including Gandhi, who believed that Hindus and Muslims should live together in harmony (ironically, Gandhi was assassinated shortly after the partition by a Hindu nationalist who believed that Gandhi was appeasing Muslims at the expense of Hindus). Whatever the feelings, the fact remains that Indian and Pakistani soldiers are able to come together, plan and synchronize a bizarre dance-off. If they can do this here, at one of the world’s most contentious borders, there is hope that India and Pakistan can share better relations. Maybe all we need for peace is for the head of states of India and Pakistan to dance like roosters.