By the time we arrived at the border, I was falling asleep standing. The sun was still up but the air was starting to cool as dusk approached. We arrived almost an hour early, but there was plenty to see before the ceremony even started, as the speakers blared Bollywood chart hits and girls, women and grandmothers began to dance in the road.
The changing of the guard itself was impressive, with soldiers strutting their infamous athletic showmanship as they kicked their pencil straight legs past their ears and stood to attention. The crowd crowed and screamed with delight and, in between pauses, I could hear the Pakistani side doing the same. "Long live India" followed by "Long live Pakistan" in counterpoint. Even with the gates opened and the 2 sides shaking hands at the end, I couldn't help but feel an undercurrent of tension in what was an acutely competitive atmosphere.
There is no denying the celebration and patriotism of the cheering nationals, especially considering the changing of the guard is a daily phenomenon, but it still seems ironic that this gesture of peace and desegregation could be typified by such a suspicious and predatory ritual - Indians in red and gold, the Pakistanis in black. Even the cockerel-like headdresses both sides wore reminded me of cockfighting, but somehow all was sealed and potentially even justified by that firm and final handshake.
Jo-Yee Cheung
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