Wagah border — when a parade of pride turns into horror

The first time I saw Pakistan was across the Wagah border and I was overwhelmed. I wanted to walk past the no man’s land and touch the earth that is now Pakistan. My family was from Rawalpindi and Sukho in Pakistan and I grew up listening to their stories and the tragedies of star crossed lovers of the River Indus. Then there is Nankana Sahib, the birthplace of Guru Nanak that is now out of bounds for most Sikhs.

Evening after evening, the perfectly orchestrated show at the Wagah border attracts thousands on both sides. As the flags are lowered and folded with respect, the audiences watch in awed hush. The sound of the pounding boots, the murderous looks exchanged by the soldiers, the brisk handshakes and the loud clang as the gates shut for the day is typical sub-continent showmanship. For all Indians and Pakistanis there, it is an endorsement of the pride they feel for their country.

Before the blasts ripped through the Pakistani side of the border, the evening must have been like countless evenings before it. The tourists would have settled down with snacks from the makeshift shops near the ceremonial enclosure. Families must have identified the food place they would visit later — there must also be kabab, chaat and chole bhature stalls on their side. Like us, Pakistanis would have gazed curiously into the Indian side and for some it might have been the first glimpse of an Indian in flesh (apart from Bollywood movies of course). While Indians chanted ‘Jai Hind’ and ‘Vande Mataram’, the Pakistanis would have lustily shouted ‘Pakistan zindabad’. On both sides some spectators might have planned to sneak past the guards after the ceremony to come closest to the Indian side and capture it for eternity on their cameras. I did the same.

As I watched the horror on TV, I was reminded of my meeting with the young Pakistani Qasim Aslam in New York. Qasim is spearheading 'The History Project'. Nearly 12 years ago, Qasim met Indians for the first time in his life at a conflict resolution camp at Maine by the Seeds of Peace. A dozen Indian and Pakistani students spent three weeks together. All of them were nervous and antagonistic to begin with; the Indian kids had prejudices and the Pakistani kids carried their own baggage. But within days, those barriers broke down as they realised they had much in common — they enjoyed the same sports and movies, shared common folklore and foods, even shared the same value system.

Like most Pakistanis Qasim feels horror at the way his country has disintegrated. Politicians and religious hardliners have created a state of anarchy. Like everyone, the average Pakistani wants a secure home where he can earn an honest living and bring up his children.

That day, the State failed the ordinary Pakistani. A day of joyful celebration turned bloody as children, wives, husbands, sons, daughters and grandparents met a horrible end.

The bomb blast at the Wagah border is ironic. Like Sadat Manto’s Toba Tek Singh, the average Pakistani surrounded by anarchy and apathy is in that no man’s land. He may never see justice. In the coming days we will witness the political dance again. There will be allegations and counter allegations. Terrorists, outside forces and India may also be blamed.

The show will carry on and families that lost their loved ones will be alone in their grief. That feels unbelievably tragic.

The author is the writer of Unravel and manages a book review website