It is 64 years since the Radcliffe line cut through the village of Wagah in Punjab, the east going to India and the west to Pakistan. Events at the Wagah border reflect the tensions and hostility since partition as well as the aspirations of ordinary people for peace and friendship. On 14th /15th August 2010, I was at the Wagah border where I witnessed two ceremonies: the official Beating of the Retreat (lowering of the flags) by the Indian BSF (Border Security Force) and the Pakistani Rangers which is held everyday since 1959 and the midnight candle light vigil held every 14/15th August by peace‐activists from both sides.
5 pm ‐ 7 pm
At dusk I sat down in the front row of the stands facing two gates ‐ the side I was on said INDIA and the gate on the other side said PAKISTAN. On the Pakistani side loudspeakers were blaring with patriotic songs and people were waving huge flags and dancing to mark their independence day. On the Indian side a group of students were performing a play (it was basically a man shouting at the top of his voice) interspersed with patriotic songs as well. Finally the bugle rang out and the parade began on both sides synchronised with each other. Two women (for the first time this year) marched at a fast pace across and saluted the Commander, positioning themselves at the corner of the Gate. They were followed by 6 feet tall border guards speed marching with extended arms, stamping on the ground and then giving a high‐kick – it was quite incredible – each time they raised their legs they almost hit their heads! Then followed a peculiar ritual‐ almost like a dance ‐ goose‐stepping then a series of head and shoulder jerky movements which were full of aggression. At regular intervals slogans were raised. As one side shouted Zindabad (Long Live) the other side would shout Murdabad (Death to) in reaction. The gates were opened, the flags of both countries were lowered for the day and after a brief handshake, the gates were closed. The whole ceremony was quite absurd and the soldiers looked like roosters dressed, on one side in brown and red and the other side in black and white strips, with plumbed turbans, strutting and preening, which made me want to laugh. However it was not really funny since the ritual was also the assertion of territorial control and power and the body movements conveyed aggressive threats. Though the aggression has been toned down (earlier the soldiers showed clenched fists and made contemptuous gestures with their thumbs), yet we could see that thousands of people on both sides of the border (it is estimated that 15,000 come every day to witness this ceremony from both sides!) were being instigated into hatred and competition. It is ironic that this ceremony is actually planned by both sides and they practice together, yet the message that is sent is of war and enmity.
11 pm ‐ 12 am
In contrast to the cacophony of the evening, the border was quiet as 50 peace activists walked towards the gates with candles, shouting slogans of peace and friendship. (“Pak Hind awaam dosti zindabad” “jung nahe aman chahye, bomb nahe roti chahye”). The candles were placed on the gates and flickering in the dark sent out rays of hope. The vigil has been organised for the last 15 years by well‐known journalist Kuldeep Nayar and this year was special due to a peace caravan that was organised simultaneously from Mumbai to Wagah in India and Karachi to Wagah in Pakistan by Dr. Sandeep Pandey (a Magsaysay award winner) from India and my father Karamat Ali (founder of the Pakistan Peace Coalition) among others. Prominent among the participants were Mahesh Bhatt (a Bollywood film director), Aitzaz Ahsan & Iqbal Haider (leaders of the lawyers and human rights movement in Pakistan) and Kamla Bhasin (a well known feminist/songwriter who was one of the first to build bridges between Indian and Pakistani women). It was very moving to hear Iqbal Haider’s emotional appeal as he repeated in front of the gates: “Darwaza khol do, logo ko milne do" (open the gates, let the people meet). However the people from the Pakistani side were unfortunately not allowed to come to the border this year. The guards who had been performing the parade earlier were also there and ironically when we asked them about the India‐Pakistan situation, they said that they wanted the conflict to end so we could live like normal neighbours. As part of this vigil thousands of people had gathered at Attari (a near‐by village) under a tent where singers, artists and poets from both countries performed around themes of peace between the two countries.
Although I had seen the beating of the retreat in 2001 (when I was eight) from the Pakistani side as well, I found the experience this time very disturbing, as I understood its meaning and implication. It was quite frightening the way people could show so much hatred and animosity towards one another and how the ridiculously choreographed ceremony orchestrated a sense of jingoistic nationalism. Since my father is from Pakistan and my mother is from India, when I see this kind of hatred I feel as if I belong to No‐Man’s Land (the sliver of earth between the gates) as in Sadat Hasan Manto’s brilliant story Toba Tek Singh.
At the same time I think that there is great inspiration and hope in the growing peace movement and initiatives like the peace caravan where activists planted peepal trees (symbolising wisdom and peace) along the border in soil mixed from both countries this year. As these peepal trees, under which Buddha, the expression of compassion and ahimsa (non‐ violence) achieved enlightenment, grow, I believe and hope that we Indians and Pakistanis can follow in his footsteps.
(a shorter version of this is printed in a school magazine)