Borderline Lunacy

India and Pakistan.

Nuclear neighbours? Yes.
Cricketing collosi? Uh huh.
God-fearing governments? Pretty much.
Political powerhouses? You betcha.

Friends?
Not on your life.

They may be adjacent nations who share a great deal in common, but one thing that India and Pakistan certainly do not share is a mutual love and respect for one another. Nor has it ever been that way; right back to the summer of 1947, when the two English protectorates gained their independence - Pakistan first, then India 24 hours later - tensions have been running a little high.

Not that England helped get things off to a good start. The wizened bureaucrats back in London tried their damnedest to draw the new frontier between the two countries in such a way that all the Muslims would end up on the West side (Pakistan) and all the Hindus and Sikhs on the East (India), but this wasn't quite as easy as anticipated. Many people suddenly found themselves on the wrong side of the border the day the flags of independence were raised. Living in hostile territory, surrounded by enemies and unprotected by a new government that didn't care about them, they were forced to flee across the newly-drawn lines.
And so began a massive exodus in both directions. Muslims left their villages in the Indian Punjab and boarded trains leading West towards Lahore. Non-Muslims in Pakistan, meanwhile, jumped on truck convoys going in the opposite direction. It all started off peacefully, and cooler heads should have prevailed, but things soon took a nasty turn. Consumed with spiritual fire and riding on the crest of a wave of newfound power, the Indian Sikhs began stopping the Westbound trains and murdering any Muslims aboard. Muslims, who've never met a jihad they didn't like, retaliated with equal fervour, slaughtering any infidels they caught on the Pakistani side. It was an extremely bloody conflict that caused much of the resentment that continues to be harboured today, and has since precipitated other battles in the interim.
The situation has eased in the little in the last few years, but pride runs deep and the two countries do little more than tolerate each other now. Disputes over Kashmir boil over once in a while, diplomatic relations are shaky at best, and the border - which stretches over 1000km - can only be breached at one place: Attari, on the main road linking Lahore and the Indian city of Amritsar.

Now one could imagine that given the animosity the Indians and Pakistanis share for one another, the border at Attari would be a scary place. Guard towers full of Kalashnikov-toting sentries. Tanks patrolling each side of the fence like junkyard dogs. Signs posted everywhere, warning of landmines and exploded ordinance.
Ironically, it's not like that at all. In fact, what you'll see there isn't forbidding in the least. There's a double-doored gate, one door bearing the logo of the crescent moon and the other a silk wheel. There's a taxi rank on either side, where taxi-wallahs wait in the shade of trees to offer transport to new arrivals. And finally, there's a massive grandstand. Not a cricketing one, mind you, but one that gets stuffed by Indians, Pakistanis and foreigners alike, who congregate every day at 5pm to watch one of the most civilized - and loony tunes - border closing ceremonies on Earth.

This is one of those spectacles that must be seen to be truly appreciated. It's also a testament to the good nature of people, and how a sense of humour can easily bridge the gap created by a 60-year-old political rift. 'Fans' start arriving at 4pm and begin to fill the grandstand. No one is permitted to cross the border, and so each grandstand is filled only with its own respective nationals. The exception is the Indian side, which gets the added luxury of foreign tourists. Vacationing in Pakistan is a dicey prospect at present, and so the scales get tipped in favour of India when it comes to fan base. Hopefully, when Pakistan ends its own internal struggles and begins issuing tourist visas again, you'll be able to find white faces in the sea of brown, bearded ones that currently occupy all the seats on the West side of the border.

For the first hour, the gates remain open (though heavily guarded) and a massive party ensues on either side. Music blares, people chant patriotic slogans and everyone runs amok. The Indian side becomes a dance party, whereby big, burly Sikhs in turbans and their sari-clad wives throw their hands up in the air, and wave them like they just don't care. No one dances on the Pakistani side, though the crowd gets riled up in their seats by a throng of flag-waving mascots in green capes that are adorned with the crescent moon insignia.
Around 5, everyone takes to their seats and the actual ceremony starts. A sextet of soldiers appears on either side. These guys are the elite - the pride of both armies, selected for their height, their fitness, their dashing good looks and their high-quality mustaches. They are cheered like rock stars.
The soldiers form a line 50m on either side of the gate, and take turns strutting towards the border - legs kicking higher than their heads a la John Cleese - in the face of a soldier mimicking the same movement on the other side. When each pair reaches the gate, they stop dead and give each other the steeliest glare imaginable (and if you've ever had an Indian or Pakistani stare at you, you know how well they do that). Once all the soldiers are stationed at the border, a group-staring session ensues and the crowds go wild.
Next, the flags of the two nations are lowered in unison. This is where I really started to laugh. Each flag bearer attempts to lower his flag slower than the other guy, so that for a just a moment his flag is higher. The Indian crowd jeered in protest evertime the Pakistani flag appeared to be a shred of a millimeter higher. The process took a good 10 minutes.
Finally, the gates are closed and the ceremony ends. The stands clear out, everybody goes home and the border remains shut until 8am the following day, at which point cars and commercial traffic will once again be allowed through.

Seeing this ceremony was a true highlight. The dancing, cheering and ridiculous marches of the soldiers were side-splittingly funny. It's a good thing - laughter - to have on the frontier between two nations that haven't shared a good joke for a really, really long time.