‘The Border’ was suggested by bala in 2007 for the family trip but our folks wanted a pilgrimage tour and thus the border was earmarked for our ‘first together’ trip. Apart from the ‘border’, Golden Temple and Jallianwala Bagh completed our itinerary. The tatkal tickets in Swaran Shatabdi for to and fro and the opportunity to capture the border and golden temple revved up our imagination. Though the weather was cold and damp, our spirits were like bulb in a lamp; we of course returned as fused bulbs.
Armed with sweaters and jackets, we started to station around half past five in the morning on 9th of Feb 2008. It was a shivering auto trip despite the mufflers. The blue coach, not immaculately shining, greeted us at the platform. We boarded and exchanged our seats with a family coming from Canada/Britain heading to Pughwara. After all luggage tags and whiskied breath never lie.
Having docked our luggage, we ran to shoot the cream and orange colored electric engine with our lens. Couple of quick poses and clicks, we ran unabatedly and boarded the train. Having settled, we waited anxiously for the engine to muster courage to pull the coaches. Meanwhile, bala was all praise for the interiors and remarked, “it just resembles an aeroplane”. Ten minutes past its scheduled time, the platform started drifting apart. Indeed, delay is the signature style of Indians and our Railway!
The train slowly chugged its way through poverty and decay, demonstrating to us the concomitant of progress. As the train picked up its speed, cramped hutments and filth slowly gave to greenery and signs of prosperity. Mr. Helios slowly peeped out and its rays permeated the fog over the green fields and soon our tinted windows. The warmth forced us to remove our jacket and as we settled, driver of 2031 sped past Patiala, Karnal and Kurukshetra, constantly honking. The pace was maintained till we reached the outskirts of Ambala, our first stop; Ludhiana, Phagwara, Jalandhar and Beas followed and bala pointed to me that, “we are diagonally cutting across Punjab”. But before we disembarked, breakfast was served to us and we were hoping for the lunch too and even had enquired unabashedly, but I knew that there would be no lunch and I was correct.
Around half past one, we were outside the station, hunting auto-walla. I tend to choose and reject auto’s based on the appearance of auto-wallas. I am just caught in-between a popular saying, “face is not the mirror of the soul”. We hopped into an old man’s auto and he dropped us at Sood’s guest house and charged us only nominally. A circuitous route had to be adopted through bye-lanes since autos were not permitted near or on the road leading to the Golden Temple.
Roads constitute the heart to any city and city chokes if there is congestion; but what if there are no roads? Roads, lanes and bye-lanes, it is all the same in Amritsar. No work was being done for the people by the elected people. On way to the guest-house, huge posters and banners of Mr. Sidhu greeted us and we were informed that Mr. Sidhu had donated 1 crore and that people were largely happy with his performance.
Wagah border was our immediate agenda and we had to leave around half past three so as to reach there around 5 pm. We quickly had our lunch and a softy too in the peak winter and the guest-house attendant arranged for a shared Qualis at Rs. 200 each. We occupied the front seats, four more persons in the back seat and the driver was waiting for four more passengers. The vehicle also had a starting problem and half-an-hour was wasted for full occupancy. I showed my impatience but he assured me of timely delivery. We again lost considerable time wading through the city traffic and I broached the “road development” topic and the driver was pretty optimistic that things were going in the right direction and a half-built fly-over showed itself as evidence saying, “hello! Dilliwale, look at me”. And we soon hit upon the Grand Trunk road and around half-past four we reached our destination. I had a fair idea of what I was going to see, the march and antics of the soldiers posted on either sides, but I was there to feel “the border”, things which make it; green grass and blue sky is what I could lay my sight upon.
Thankfully the sky is still free of electrified barbed wires, tall brick-built arches and iron gates. What was going in Bala’s mind, I cannot comment. Our side was brimming with we the people and on the other side, there were handful of them. Even at the border we have special treatment syndrome i.e. seats adjacent to the gate were meant for people with some kind of nexus. Strings
have to be pulled in India for everything. The atmosphere was all charged up and a man instructed the public only to shout vande matram and Bharat mata ki jai and not to use any derogatory words for Pakistan. And soon six men from BSF set off in a peculiar gait, a sort of fast-forward march past amidst cheers and claps and gates on both the sides were opened and then followed peculiar kicks and strong stamping of foots as if both the forces were threatening each other. We were also asked to do the tribal hooting when the soldiers on the other side performed antics. Ropes were thrown and exchanged and slowly and steadily the flags of both the countries were brought down amidst bugle sound and the public was instructed to stand up and not to use any slogans and our men came back and folded the tri-color and before the gates were closed for the day, Pakistani bus arrived from our side. Nonetheless, the gates were closed and were again opened for the bus. Bala had postponed the photo-shoot with the bus and now he was dumbstruck as he watched the bus disappear. The change of guards ceremony evoked mixed feelings in me for here at Atari-Wagah and Ferozpur border, guards of both the countries carried out exercises in-sync while elsewhere soldiers of Pakistan open fire and try to infiltrate. Somehow love tends to stop at the border!With this the “retreat ceremony” came to an end. As soon as this was announced, bala with other people rushed towards the gate, perhaps in an endeavor to reach the “no man’s land”. And
I rushed to trace him out. He was there, very close to the gate and asked me to press the click button. Some more pics here and there; with Mr. Harjeet Singh, the man who was in-charge of the proceedings, besides the barbed wire fences and a board reading : India the largest democracy in the world welcomes you and we slowly walked towards the parking area. Perhaps, with dejection that the main agenda was over so soon. We talked about another trip possibly with our spouses and kids down the year; if, as and when the accident happens.Everyone was waiting for us in the car and the driver drove like F1 champ. I conducted a quick interview with the driver, Mr. Harkulvinder Sodhi. I was impressed with his driving skills, racy but had control for he had driven in Middle East and was planning to go to Canada wherein his sister was residing. He now, as I write this piece, must be practicing at Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.
Bala had arranged for a car next day for the Nangal dam expedition and had charted the plan for the night. Dinner and a quick tour of Jallianwala Bagh and to Harimander Sahib to watch palki sahab. Bala’s choice of guest-house was excellent for a five minutes walk down the lane and a left lead us to Jallianwala Bagh and a right lead us to the Golden Temple.
It was seven when we visited the Bagh. With lights every where and fountain at the central, it was a pleasant night indeed. But my mind travelled to April 13, 1913, when the madman dyer ordered indiscriminate firing. The Baisakhi gathering turned into a nightmare for the people assembled there. A memorial stands now sorrounded by lush green grass with notice boards displaying the bullet marks. The martyrs well is all sealed. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jallianwala_Bagh_Massacre http://www.punjabilok.com/misc/freedom/jallianwala_bagh.htm 
We went straight to another place over which lot of blood has been spilled over the years, rather century’s and the last one in 1984 when the Indian Army hunted down Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala. The Golden Temple! We covered our head with the yellow cloth and bala’s one came nicely. Once inside, my mind was wondering as to how the tanks came in; such a huge complex it was with many entrances and many hostels. A mind boggling exercise carried out by the Indian Army brought out by sheer lust for power coveted by Indira Gandhi and Giani Zail Singh. Amritsar:Indira Gandhi’s Last Battle by Mark Tully and Satish Jacob is an interesting read. The book also takes us through the bloody battles fought by Sikhs to save their religion and our land from invaders. The complex also houses a museum which depicts in detail the struggles by Gurus and their bravery. The Adi Granth, the Holy Scripture, is now revered at the Temple. Daily the granth is brought from Akal Takht to the temple and at night is taken back there by golden paalki. Having finished “the clicks” and parikrama, we showed our reverence and bala instructed to wait for the service. This was bala’s style of killing time. Somebody had instructed him to witness the paalki sahib and he cajoled me to wait. It was a long chilly wait and finally the paalki arrived. The granth was placed
and taken out and it was rush hour. Bala again disappeared and I was caught in a wrong line; the service line. One uncle pushed me to do the service, which was to hold one end out of paalki. At that time the question in my mind was “hey! Whether I can?”. Nonetheless, I did that service praying and had the chance to repeat after couple of minutes. I was only looking for bala. I met him near the Takht and he narrated to me the procession. All thanks to bala; the wait was indeed a worthy wait. Some more clicks and we promised to return in the morning for I wanted to capture the golden temple, standing in its full glory, under the sun. It was a tiresome day and I remember only hitting the bed. We slept like babies. Of course, with dress on with blankets.
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