my new heart-throb

Amritsar 21 September 2015

 Amritsar and Lahore are about equidistant from the only (legit) road crossing between India and Pakistan; the border is at Wagah.  Lorries are allowed 1Km into ‘enemy territory’ then have to unload, turn around and go back home.  Up in Kashmir soldiers are camped glaring at each other from either side of the 'line of control'.  But every evening at the Wagah road crossing, the gates are closed and the two national flags pulled down in a ceremony that knocks the socks off the Trooping of the Colour or the Edinburgh Tattoo.  We went, joining a convoy of overloaded rickshaws full of families, happy for (free) entertainment.

On both sides of the border there are huge grandstands for spectators. We were searched 3 times but foreigners then get a privileged view – among around 2000 Indians.  Perhaps half an hour before kick-off amplified pop songs were played and a man looking like Freddie Mercury with a microphone, whipped up the crowd into a frenzy of patriotic fervour and dancing (we couldn’t see what was going on on the Pakistani side).

Some soldiers started appearing, all exceptionally tall with wonderful complexions and impressively moustachioed.  They had improbable red fans on their heads, a bit like the chickens in Aardman’s Chicken Run.  A soldier with a drum-kit on a raised dais choreographs the whole thing, pacing the marching to massive cheers.

Two beautifully coiffed lady soldiers start things off with a quick march to the border-line.  Then the men in ones and twos and with a huge amount of stamping and fierceness march extremely fast up to the gates.  The Pakistani soldiers have been doing the same thing on the other side of the gate in their black, more whimsical uniforms and silly hats.  There ensues a huge amount  of stamping grimacing and aggressive straightening of the fans on their heads; most impressive are the high-kicks which would put the Folies Bergere can-cans to shame.  The soldiers must be chosen by how high they can kick, as well as their catwalk good-looks.  And they must rehearse and rehearse – with their Pakistani opposite numbers.  The whole thing was completely delightful.

Towards the end and after a lot of swishing of ropes  the two national flags are lowered in unison so that neither side is ever the superior.  Then after a bit of clashing of gates and the quickest of handshakes between the Indian and Pakistani commanders, everyone marches off at the double/triple and the audience flood down to try to get a selfie with the soldier rock stars………  

my new heart throb, isn't he wonderful