Every day at sunset, a battle is waged on the Pakistan-India border at Wagah.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Death to Pakistan!
Long Live India!”
“Death to India!
Long live Pakistan!”
Soldiers face off
Guns are drawn
Crowds cheer and jeer
Indians dance in the street & celebrate
Pakistanis sit in orderly rows by gender
It’s a battle that no one ever wins
It’s a daily F.U. from India to Pakistan.
It’s one of the most fascinating and disgraceful things I’ve ever witnessed
It’s the Wagah Border Ceremony, located in between Amritsar, India, and Lahore, Pakistan.
Pre-Party on Grand Trunk Road
Before the ceremony starts, the Indian side of the Wagah Border is reminiscent of a high school pep rally…
Traditional music blares at deafening levels
Locals sing along and cheer
Insults are thrown at the other side
And a man dressed in white shouts into a microphone, exciting the crowd even further.
DID YOU KNOW?The Wagah border is located on Grand Trunk Road, which runs between Amritsar, India, and Lahore, Pakistan. It was the only crossing point in between the two countries until the 1999 opening of Aman Setu in Kashmir.
VIPs, Flags and Dancing at the Wagha Border Ceremony
Meanwhile, a long line of VIPs have the honor of running to and from the border gate that separates Pakistan and India, carrying and waving the Indian flag.
This is emulated on the other side of the gate, as the Pakistani VIPs try to get there and back first.
Finally, when it seems that the crowd can’t get any more fired up, the man in white declares it to be party time and invites a small crowd onto Grand Trunk Road to do their best “Indian light bulb” dance moves.
The Border Ceremony: High Kicking & Long Singing
I seriously have never seen anything as silly as the actual Wagah Border Ceremony.
For more than an hour, soldiers march up and down Grand Trunk Road, high-kicking their way to the border gate.
Once there, they stare down their counterpart, emulate his or her moves, say something I can’t understand, and head back to the drill sergeant.
By the microphone, other soldiers are locked in a fierce battle of “who can hold the ‘ohhhhhhhhh note for longer.” No joke.
By the end of each mini-contest, you can hear each soldier trying to give it every last ounce of their breath. The outcome seems to affect nothing.
LIFE BEFORE THE BORDER:Wagah was a peaceful Indian village until 1947 when the country declared its independence from the British and the imaginary — and highly controversial — Radcliffe Line was drawn down the center to separate India and Pakistan.
Down Come the Indian & Pakistani Flags
Nearly an hour – and dozens of long “aaah’s” and high steps – later, the soldiers get to the actual point of the Wagah Border Ceremony: lowering the flags.
Both India and Pakistan have an equal amount of rope and lower their flags at the same speed, so once again there seems to be no winner.
In spite of the aggressive nature of the entire proceedings, the soldiers from each side shake hands before the gate is closed.
Supposedly this whole event is in good nature, though in 2010, Major General Yaqub Ali Khan of the Pakistan Rangers declared that the event had to be “toned down,” as not to incite aggression between the two countries.
Meanwhile, in Pakistan
Crickets chirp. OK, not quite. But close.
Sure, the Pakistani side has its own blaring music and soldier theatrics, but the stands are sparsely populated, the VIP section is mostly empty and there seems to be no emotion from the crowd.
Basically, the Pakistani side has to sit there in silence as India puts on a show of its might and self-declared superiority.
Traveling From Amritsar to the Attari Border
From India to Pakistan…and Back
Yup, we’re going backwards in time here…
TRAVEL TIP:For 200 rupees ($4), any taxi wallah near Amritsar’s Golden Temple will be glad to drive you – and as many other people as he can squeeze into his car – to and from the Wagah Border Ceremony.
Carrie and Lauren decided to sit this one out, so Tara and I squeezed into the passenger “shotgun” seat of our group taxi.
Before leaving, a police officer came up to our window and warned everyone about the dangers of theft and violence at the Wagah Border Ceremony. Strike 1.
About five minutes later, our driver was pulled over for not having a license and we had to wait around while he either talked his way out of it or paid off the traffic cop.
We never found out the truth. Strike 2.
Fortunately, there was no strike 3, as our taxi pulled into the packed parking lot in Attari an hour later.
“No bags allowed inside,” our driver said: a fact that would have been helpful to know before leaving. “But what about all my camera equipment,” I asked?
His answer led to a quick scramble to fit as much in my cargo pockets as possible. It’s a miracle my shorts stayed on with everything I crammed in: two lenses, my point and shoot camera, passport, money, water and sunglasses.
A Sea Of Humanity Heads Towards Pakistan
Not even soldiers on horseback could contain the wall of people from shoving their way towards Pakistan and the Wagah Border Ceremony.
Lines were ignored, people were pushed, children weaved in and out and my body was shoved against sweaty backs more than I care to remember.
I couldn’t help but laugh after men and women were separated for a security check.
I looked over and saw relative order on the female line and extreme chaos from men of all ages in front of me.
Finally, I reached the pat-down station and realized that my plan of bribing a guard to let me bring my bag in would have failed miserably.
Every inch of me and my sagging pants were diligently inspected and after finally making it through I found myself thrusting my arms into the air in a victory celebration.
A short walk later, Tara and I arrived at the Foreigner’s Gallery, which was halfway between the VIP and locals’ areas.
I took my various lenses and items out of my pockets, sat down on the stone steps and watched the Wagha Border Ceremony unfold…
Random Observations From the
Wagah Border Ceremony
I enjoyed the irony of a soldier with an AK-47 standing in a watch tower above a smiling image of Ghandi.
It was a good thing that I took my passport out of my backpack, as a soldier wanted to see it before letting me into the Foreigner’s Gallery…like I could be anything BUT a foreigner…
After the ceremony, Tara and I wanted to take a photo next to the India/Pakistan gate, but that would have involved waiting in a massive shoving crowd of locals wanting to do the same thing.