My borderless Moorings at Wagah, in Flashback

My Borderless Moorings at Wagah, in Flashback
Nowhere So Precious The Golden touch you get in Amritsar

When you bring office to home, the first few days are exciting. But as days pass by, you realise that life is not the same and the imaginary happy feelings of “Work From Home” fades away. Despite all these, I squeezed some time to go back to some abandoned blogs. It seemed I have not missed a single detail of the trip to Amritsar even as a year has gone by. As I went down the memory lane, all the sweet memories of the trip made me believe that it had just happened yesterday.

The word “Amritsar” creates images of a religious, traditional and a cultural hub of the Sikh community. Officially, the name of Golden Temple is Harmandir Sahib. But since it is layered with shiny gold plate, it has got a tag of Golden Temple. My purpose of travelling to Amritsar was slightly different. It was not religious alone, but as a journey into the city’s history and culture. But at the end of the journey, I was confronted with more questions than answers.

I was heading to Amritsar from Dalhousie, my fourth trip in 2019. It was April and I was travelling in a local state transport bus. While descending from the hilly area to the plane, I was surrounded by people of various facial expressions, attires, languages, and regional culture. While travelling in Himachal State Transport Bus I shard the seat with an old lady aged around 65, continuously sharing about her feelings. She was a bit nostalgic and missing her old happy days. She was showing me the valleys and trying to locate her house which she once called her own where she was brought up. I was listening her long tale but at the same time I was crooning and humming a few of the Bollywood romantic songs seeing the dancing clouds and valleys. Whenever I travel the hidden FM starts connecting its signal to that particular region.

I reached Pathankot bus stand but a scary reality show was on display there. For the first time I had seen two Sikhs ready to kill each other using sword. In the beginning I was eager to see the tragic match but soon was scared. The incident happened at a distance of one meter from my seat. After arriving at Pathankot Bus Stand I was very much conscious of my safety as the fight had frightened me. Finally, I got the bus for Amritsar and luckily I was sitting beside a Sikh lady whom I kept on asking about her attire and religion.

It was evening and I was crossing Gurdaspura. I did not have much idea about Gurdaspura but felt a sort of bond with the name. My eyes were feasting on the mustard crops, local people travelling on bike with their kids having turbans on head. The view flashed a few images of Bollywood old movies presenting Punjabi Nagari. But, I was a bit surprised finding Hindi nowhere as everything was written in Punjabi. I was a little upset as I could not immediately connect to them.

I reached Amritsar at around 7pm. I knew that Golden Temple also offers a nice and comfortable accommodation. Therefore, I found it the perfect place where I can explore and understand the Sikh culture. Apart from exploring the culture, there was an earnest desire to visit the most awaited place that could calm down my chaotic soul but unfortunately it aroused many. The destination was scheduled for the next day.

After settling down I went out to for a walk around the temple and had langar. Taking a walk in the Gurudwarah was like enjoying and celebrating an eco-friendly Diwali. Massive gathering of people and the religious chanting of verses with the Gurudwarah lit up with yellow light. It was a sort of celebration to my eyes. Rushing for a seat and dining with thousands folks in itself was a great joy. It was a perfect human family. I don’t feel I should give much description of langar as the world knows of it. I was a little tired as I was travelling since morning 7 a.m and I retired to my room. The day ended on a much relaxing note.

A Perfect Human Family

The next morning I woke up early at around 5 am and decided to take a walk near the sarovar. Wherever I go, I love admiring the place, people and their daily affair. Besides all these, I love interacting people as that helps me find some true facts of their region. I simply try to understand and love to listen their language, accent and thoughts. I again went back to my room, freshened up and paid a visit to the Holy Book “Guru Granth Sahib” and also had the mouth-watering khada prashad loaded with ghee, while admiring the beautiful architecture and the golden carvings. It was a long queue leading to the centre but worth it

A Peaceful Morning it was....

A mendatory selfie

The Golden Carvings look ultimate....

The Final Destination (It is not allowed to take pictures but how could I resist myself, somehow I managed to keep it)

By now it was 11 am and I was craving for local food. I came out of the Golden Temple and found that Jaaliawala Bagh is two minutes’ walk from the temple. I decided to visit the historical garden which took me back to my history class during my school days. The bullet marks on walls, martyrs well were silently expressing their grief. The garden had nothing much to explore but yes worth visiting once.

The narrow lane leading to Jallianwala Bagh

The Bullet Marks (History smells)

Picture showcasing the massacre, April 13th 1919

Martyr's Well ( Almost 2000 dead bodies were found from the Well)

Now was the time to satisfy my hunger for some cultural cuisine which I always die for. I found a very small place, Kulwant Kulche wala, spreading its aroma around. I ordered one plate of Aalu Kulcha, as I considered at any new place an aalu recipe is the right choice. The aalu kulcha happened to be very rich, loaded with butter, while the chole turned to be the new version of chole what we have at other places. It has been one year but still I remember the taste and would love to travel to Amritsar to have scrumptious Kulcha at Kulwant Kulche Wala.

One of the best Chole Kulcha I ever had.....

But my most awaited destination was waiting, which I had longed for years, the Wagah Boarder.

Visiting Pakistan is one of my dream destinations, not because I love Pakistan but because I want to feel the vibes of the most testing bond of the two neighbouring countries. I did not want to visit the Wagah-Ataari boarder as a tourist or an enthusiastic Indian but as a girl who is still struggling to understand the true meaning of partition. I wanted to visit the boarder to answer my inquisitively restless inner being. I wanted to visit to see how man-made division looks like, how the politically made enemies look like.The desire was also to see both the National flags being hosted together and wanted to feel the various meaning of doors and walls under the same sky and on the same road.

In morning I had booked my seat in a cab as the owner of the place suggested me not to visit the border area in a private taxi as they are considered highly unsafe for girls. I tried to convince the driver to take me to Ataari station, India’s last station, and 25 kilometres from Lahore. Though he resisted in the beginning but finally offered him extra charge. It was 1 o’clock and I was in my cab asking driver to start as soon as possible because I was new to the place and had no idea of the distance. I only knew that it is nearly 30 km away from the city therefore I wanted to reach early so that I can get the front seat. There is always a kid inside me who at times starts its own formula and principle in dealing and enjoying certain scenarios.

The ride had started and meanwhile I kept on reminding the driver, “bhaiya yaad rakhna, Attari station chalna hai” and every time he replied, “madam jee tussi, fikar naa karo jee”. I reached Attari station. As I was stepped on to the platform and a BSF personnel warned me to move forward. I always bank on my convincing qualities which instinctively I applied there and he agreed after a few minutes.

No caption needed....

Having a feel of the place, I had to rush for Wagah Boarder. The station quiet as it is not allowed for general public to loiter around. I came to know that half an hour before the Samjauta Express had crossed and there I felt a little unfortunate to have missed the sight of the train that carries people and emotions between the two countries. The uploaded video will give you a brief of the Attari station.

Anybody interested to accompany me????

I was about to reach the Wagah boarder when I saw that Lahore was 23 km from there. It took me on a different zone as for a minute I felt that I was heading to Lahore but soon watching the Indian Flag soaring high up in the sky pushed me to reality. Soon after I saw another flag, it was not the Indian Flag rather it was both Indian and Pakistan’s Flag together soaring high under the same sky, on the same land, hardly 0.5 meter away but under different narratives. I reached the border area and found a long queue. The weather was hot and humid but at the same time it was worth standing. Meanwhile. I saw a man who was coming from Pakistan. I wanted to talk to him but he seemed to be a little edgy.

I was checked by the security staff and got the permit to move further. Literally, I started running to grab the front seat from where I can have a clear view of the neighbouring country. But it was not easy as I had thought. There was a huge crowd but more than that I was stopped by the BSF staff because I was not allowed to enter from the gate. Again I tried my skills, trying and convincing him as I did not want to watch the most happening ceremony and the other country in a miniature, sitting at a corner at a very far place. I decided to return from there as my heart started weeping. The BSF man could see tears in my eyes and there he happily allowed me to go with my own choice.

I grabbed the desired seat and started watching at the other side of the country with different posture. Watching both the flags together in itself gave me the “we” feeling. But I was looking for something more and there I found the huge picture of Jinnah amid a small tomb shaped architecture. Eagerly, I was trying to watch across the border but I found nothing different. I too was the part of cheering up the retreat ceremony. For the first time I felt myself in love with the patriotic songs as I could listen only few slogans, Vande Matram, Hindustan Zindabad, Bharat Mata Ki Jai in different ascents and pause. At the same time when I heard in a lengthened tone, “Pakistan Zindabad”, I don’t know why but I was scared and at the same time thrilled.

The retreat ceremony had begun followed by parade. It was powerful and simply beautiful, an orchestra of emotions, actions, cheers and National Anthem. I feel short of words to describe the show. Therefore I request the readers to watch the video which I managed to upload. But definitely I have tried my level best to bring out the essence of the patriotic land with my words. Please do watch the vedio.

Watching dogs, performing the parade in the beginning and women dancing in groups was another moment to be cherished. The BSF troops in turbans, the emotional shouts and at the same time seeing Pakistani troops in black attire, black troops, green flags and the way of cheering up their country were the experiences which can never be explained in words. But one thing I could not understand that why do they bring the word “Allah” in their patriotic chanting. I considered that it might be an element of their fundamentalist religious rituals.

Meanwhile, both the gates opened and there I just wanted to cross the no man’s land secretively but I knew that my desires could not be fulfilled. Many a time I saw birds flying and crossing the border. The sight welled up my eyes and I felt emotional. Once I was sharing the experience to my guide, my mentor, one of my ideals Prof. K.K Gautam, currently working as COE and Director, in a University. He suggested me a song “PANCHI NADIYA PAWAN K JHOKE, KOI SARHAD NAA INHE ROKE, SARHAD INSAANO K LIYE HAI………”

Seeing those birds I asked myself that is acquiring knowledge and becoming rational the reason behind our complex life? Slowly the march came to an end, the flags were put down, the gates were closed, people started leaving their seat with immense joy but I was unable to get up from my seat, I was unable to bid a happy bye to an hour-long episode and the country I was watching from 5 meters away, I was unable to make myself understand that there is a bloody term “Partition”. It felt a narrow minded thought, an uneducated experiment which happened years back and till now resulting in devilish and brutish consequence. I requested a lot to the BSF personnel and one of them allowed me to go near the gate but warned me to stay two meters away. I asked several questions and was surprised to witness such strange bonds they share.

I was returning with a very heavy heart witnessing Punjabi Khooshboo from the farm fields. I reached Gurudwara, moved to my room, freshened up and by the time it was 8pm. The day will never vanish from my memory. I sat near the sarovar and came across a couple (still in touch with them). The girl’s name is Harsharan Kaur, a sweet, helpful and a pious girl. The moment when they came to know that I have travelled solo to Amritsar, they started giving me uncountable safety measures. I am thankful to them for their generosity.

Stormy Night it was.....

A heavy rush of wind blew then and I simply loosened my body and kept on sitting near the water watching the dancing waves in water but later I realised that there was a secret conversation between me and my inner-self. Now it was 11.30 pm and I felt it was a little late therefore I went to my room.

Next morning, the last day of my trip, I walked around, talking to a few leaders of the community to know more about them and the most important, tasting the mouth-watering Prasad.

Soon I got ready as I had to visit the world’s Partition Museum, shopping for my mother (I do love shopping for myself but now I enjoy more when I do shopping for my momy darling) and having delicious food at Kesar Da Dhaba (highly overrated).

I wrapped up my luggage and soon left for the partition museum. The museum does not require any description. For few hours I went back to 1947: The Saddest Year. I feel short of words to explain my experience but I am sure, the videos and pictures would tell a lot more.