Beginning in 1959, after the mass migration of millions of Hindus and Muslims who were moving to live under the rule of their own particular brand of religion, thus escaping the persecution of the other, the border crossing ceremony began. Apparently it has always been a particularly spectacular show. The governments have built stadiums on their respective sides and many nationals of both countries fill their sides' seats every day. In between them stands a pair of enormous iron gates, one for India to open, one for Pakistan. On one side of these gates stands a large flagpole, at the top of which flies the Indian flag. A corresponding flagpole on the other side of the gate bears a Pakistani flag. Each country's flag also flies high above the stadium on their side of the border. These flags play a prominent role in the ceremony, as they are lowered by the soldiers precisely at the same time, folded, and brought in for the night.
This all sounds very solemn and dignified, but the actual ceremony plays out like a strange combination of a high school pep rally and two roosters trying to intimidate each other. We took a taxi from our hotel to the spot where the cars could park, a few hundred meters from the stadium and walked through the gauntlet of people offering to paint Indian flags on our hands or faces, sell us cheap paper Indian flags, postcards, popcorn or other snacks. We also went through at least two security checkpoints where we were patted down (women in a separate and private area, of course). We had been told to bring our passports so that we could sit in the VIP area, which was a bit closer to the gate itself. I really don't even know how I feel about this, since it has the faint tinge of colonialism about it, but we took advantage of it. The ceremony has a reputation of being hot and very crowded, but perhaps because it was the day before Diwali, the crowd was not intense. I can't imagine how hot it must be in June or July, but in late October the heat had relented and we were quite comfortable.
We took our seats and watched the show unfold. We could see the regular soldiers as well as the finely coiffed BSF (Border Security Force) soldiers. They wear khaki uniforms, but with short pants, under which there seems to be another layer of pants that are white, part of which loops underneath their boots. The boots themselves serve an important role in the ceremony as the soldiers kick and stomp enthusiastically throughout the ceremony. The real showstopper of the uniform is the red hat that has a folded and creased red plume that runs from the top to the bottom and back of the hat, rather like a rooster's comb. It's quite ridiculous looking. From what I could see of the Pakistani soldiers' uniforms, they look identical except they are black.
Like many things in India, the scene in the stadium was an assault on the senses, Indian music blared through the sound system, beckoning a bevy of women and girls in intensely colored clothes to come down onto the road and dance together in a circle. This continued for at least half an hour. Eventually a man in a white track suit bearing a wireless microphone entered the scene. He would serve as the Indian emcee for the rest of the evening, at least for the Indian side, doing his best to energize the Indian crowd, activate their nationalist zeal, and outdo the Pakistani side.
The BSF soldiers began to assemble for the ceremony, lining up in front of a building. I saw one of them doing what looked to be an elaborate high kick, foreshadowing the show to come. As the ceremony began, one of the soldiers began to shout/sing out, holding the words/notes for a long time, as the emcee held the microphone up to his mouth to get every decibel of every syllable into the sound system. First two female soldiers marched with fast but controlled long steps toward the gate. Then, one by one, each of the seven male soldiers made their approach, beginning with an elaborate high kick that somehow involved both legs and sometimes resulted in the ruffling of the red hat. The soldiers marched quickly and with long strides and when they turned a corner, adopted a kind of horse clop that I can't describe. As they approached the gate, each of them also struck what I'm certain was supposed to be an aggressive pose, though it sent us into fits of giggles.
Eventually, all seven soldiers lined up in the middle of the road. Each of them had a special duty in the opening of the gate and the precisely choreographed lowering of the flags. This, in fact, seemed to be the only serious part of the whole event. The rest of it was centered on entertaining the nationals and foreign visitors through a patriotic pep rally. One of the most bizarre elements of the whole thing was that there was a western-style drum kit set up on the top of a building next to the road where the soldiers walked. The drummer provided the serious military marching beat, but would occasionally break into what I referred to as a "jazzy percussion interlude". He did this frequently, though I could not seem to decipher any pattern to it. It added yet another element of absurdity to the ceremony.
In the end, I remain both bemused and confused. I don't know whether to consider it a hopeful sign that, at least at this border crossing, the two sides can work together to produce such an entertaining and relaxed show for their people or if the postures of aggression and the brusque handshake between the soldiers masked a more dangerous aggression.