Should the love for one’s country surface only at the borders when confronted with the so-perceived enemy, asks Nabarun Goswami
IT WAS my first visit to the northern Indian state of Punjab. Known as the land of five rivers (Jhelum, Chenab, Ravi, Sutlej and Beas in undivided India), Punjab falls in the fertile Indo-Gangetic plain and its eagerness for life becomes apparent from the bustling stretch of green that enthusiastically greet the expectant visitor, inching forward leisurely, savouring the lively landscape of a place which for ages has been known as home to the warriors, lovers, poets, saints and above all martyrs.
Standing in an inspiringly revolutionary posture, the statues of freedom fighters Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev and Rajguru on the way in Ludhiana offered a glimpse of the spirit of a state which played a significant role in the country’s freedom struggle.
Heading further, a hefty meal of local delicacies flavoured with the famous Punjabi hospitality at a lavish yet simple roadside dhaba (eatery) 16 km from Amritsar set the tone for the rest of the trip.
By evening I was in the holy city of Amritsar, a visit to which necessarily means a pilgrimage to Harmandir Sahib aka Golden Temple, considered the most sacred place of worship by the Sikhs. Accordingly, the following day, I set on the religious trail.
The resonating Gurbani (compositions by Sikh Gurus), the devout look of submissiveness to the Ultimate One on the faces of the faithful and a sense of calm amid a sizeable gathering are a few among the many abstracts that add to the aura of “the Abode of God” and render a spiritually soothing experience to any visitor, devotee or otherwise, to carry back with.
Prayers offered, like everybody else, I edged towards the langar (free vegetarian meal offered at a Gurdwara) for a simple but satisfying meal before starting for the next destination, Jalian Wala Bagh, another place which was no less than a pilgrimage for it was here that hundreds of Indians were shot dead while they engaged in a peaceful protest against the oppressive British Raj on April 13, 1919.
The episode had inspired a generation of Indians to rise up against the colonial rulers. Even a remote observation of the sequence of events that transpired in this Amritsar garden is enough to placate the otherwise dormant nationalistic sentiments among the masses. No surprises, perhaps then that with a quarter of the day still left, I decided to undertake a trip to Wagah, to stare the so-perceived enemy on the face.
It being the eve of Indian Independence Day, the decision to traverse to the ceremonial Western border of the country (the only road border crossing between India and Pakistan) seemed to make sense as since the time the British left, glances of Indian nationalism have been most visible in areas of confrontation or even an interaction with the nation made to split from us by the European masters.
The first sight of Wagah was a multi-coloured experience. Dotted with national flags of the competitive neighbouring nations on either side of the border, the setting rendered an impression of a venue drenched in zealous nationalism, with each side screaming its identity out to the other.
The stage was set for the customary lowering of the flags or beating retreat ceremony which is more of an aggressive than a friendly affair between the two countries. That it was the occasion of Pakistani Independence Day only raced the palpitation of the thousands gathered to witness this virtual war between the two neighbours.
In no time, chants of Pakistan zindabad (long live Pakistan) and Allah-o-Akbar reverberated in the Pakistan side of the border and beyond, echoing over to Indian Punjab. No prizes for guessing that we immediately responded with Bharat Mata ki jai (long live Mother India) and Vande Mataram. The exaltation continued for the next hour and patriotic Bollywood numbers added to the nationalistic vibe.
In the exuberance of the moment I almost failed to differentiate the varied accents around, all of which chanted in unison. There were Gorkhas, few South Indians, a family each from Assam and Meghalaya respectively and of course a host of North Indians and Bengalis in the crowd. For once the length and breadth of this nation seemed to think, speak and act alike. For once, we were all Indians and proudly so. It was some sight and experience.
Months later, tension and bad blood over statehood demands in some parts of the country besides the occasional riot here and there put into serious doubt the apparent oneness of this nation as exhibited at Wagah.
In the past many have argued that India was and will never be a nation. So was the “unity in diversity” showcased at India’s western border a farce?
We might struggle to find an answer to this for generations to come. However, what was on show at Wagah was nothing short of extraordinary for a country divided by religion, caste, language, territory and much more. As such the spirit of Wagah perhaps should be cherished unconditionally as a unifying factor in a divided nation.