A Line Separating: Wagah Border

India shares its border with seven nations, of which one I stepped. The walk was a kilometre, on the straight, stretched, Grand Trunk Road. The rows divided us by gender, with a formal security check. The deeper I walked on that road the more secure it felt by looking at those super steel iron mans cast all around.

The surrounding changed the mood and the taste. Few meters away was the end point of my country but decades ago something initiated there. There were the people sitting on the other side of the gate with a different identity, different colour of religion on their flag.

What surprised me is the consistency of love, passion and energy for past fifty-nine years on every evening. They never took that level down there energy is the audience which has still kept the ceremony alive.

It was strange but true, that for the first time I wished I was of the opposite sex, so even I would have run hard holding the tricolour and danced gracefully on those never liked songs. Songs which we never heard became the best songs for this movement.

The ceremony initiated with a great parade on both the side of those gates. And as the sun takes its nap the iron gates are open wide. The flag is lowered simultaneously and folded neatly the ceremony is sweetened by the handshake.

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