It was meant to be just any other regular out station visit but it didn’t turn out to be. It was as scripted, until I had returned.
It so happened that I planned to visit Amritsar on 13th of Nov. With my brother and sister and their families along, I had almost written down our every move in advance. Because I had stayed in Amritsar 15 years back, I knew most of the town anyway. The journey was primarily to visit Golden Temple, Wagah border and my past, the last one touching me all along overnight train.
My brother, sister and myself; we were kids when we were in the town last time and I must say everything had ‘un’grown smaller by time. The roads, the buildings, the old house around the corner, the school, the church, everything looked smaller. We used to walk down to school from home and for last so many years we resented that how far we had to go to study. And now we knew why our father never looked serious all these years to listen to all that.
Golden temple was indeed as divine as anyone would have heard, saw or read about. Ofcourse visit to Jallianwalla Bagh reminded me of Udham Singh whom I am not sure how many Indians know was a real-life Braveheart. I just always remember him because he was proud son of Sunam, my mother’s hometown.
14th Nov, we picked a cab to Wagah border. My emotions were all time high (or shall I say weak) to think of evening ceremony and of the faint memories that had lived with me for many ears. By the time we reached the place, we realized it to be Children’s day and to our surprise the crowd was overwhelming. It didn’t turn out to be good idea to come this far from Delhi on his day because it was almost impossible to find a place among countless people.
Although it was hard work to catch glimpses of the ‘show’, it was indeed worth every painful moment to stand in this over-crowded crowd. With slogans of Vande-Matram and ‘Bharat mata ki ai’, school children dancing to tune of ‘mere desh ki dharti’ and BSF men showing their might in tasteful way, it was mixed emotions of joy and patriotism.
I returned a proud Indian and joined office next day. Over tea, the Wagah border was indeed something to talk and listen about. While I was almost done with my story, my friend asked me if this was really what I wanted at the border, the hostility. I started off with an answer but did not reach anywhere. This was not probably the best of shows I would have wanted to see and I new it now. Although it was indeed impeccable and very well choreographed, what I really wanted was to shake hands with people across the border, talk to them, and laugh with them. More so, remembering Nehru on Children’s day, I wished the day had to do something with peace instead.
I knew now that while I thought I was a proud Indian alone, I was actually an hostile Indian too.
It so happened that I planned to visit Amritsar on 13th of Nov. With my brother and sister and their families along, I had almost written down our every move in advance. Because I had stayed in Amritsar 15 years back, I knew most of the town anyway. The journey was primarily to visit Golden Temple, Wagah border and my past, the last one touching me all along overnight train.
My brother, sister and myself; we were kids when we were in the town last time and I must say everything had ‘un’grown smaller by time. The roads, the buildings, the old house around the corner, the school, the church, everything looked smaller. We used to walk down to school from home and for last so many years we resented that how far we had to go to study. And now we knew why our father never looked serious all these years to listen to all that.
Golden temple was indeed as divine as anyone would have heard, saw or read about. Ofcourse visit to Jallianwalla Bagh reminded me of Udham Singh whom I am not sure how many Indians know was a real-life Braveheart. I just always remember him because he was proud son of Sunam, my mother’s hometown.
14th Nov, we picked a cab to Wagah border. My emotions were all time high (or shall I say weak) to think of evening ceremony and of the faint memories that had lived with me for many ears. By the time we reached the place, we realized it to be Children’s day and to our surprise the crowd was overwhelming. It didn’t turn out to be good idea to come this far from Delhi on his day because it was almost impossible to find a place among countless people.
Although it was hard work to catch glimpses of the ‘show’, it was indeed worth every painful moment to stand in this over-crowded crowd. With slogans of Vande-Matram and ‘Bharat mata ki ai’, school children dancing to tune of ‘mere desh ki dharti’ and BSF men showing their might in tasteful way, it was mixed emotions of joy and patriotism.
I returned a proud Indian and joined office next day. Over tea, the Wagah border was indeed something to talk and listen about. While I was almost done with my story, my friend asked me if this was really what I wanted at the border, the hostility. I started off with an answer but did not reach anywhere. This was not probably the best of shows I would have wanted to see and I new it now. Although it was indeed impeccable and very well choreographed, what I really wanted was to shake hands with people across the border, talk to them, and laugh with them. More so, remembering Nehru on Children’s day, I wished the day had to do something with peace instead.
I knew now that while I thought I was a proud Indian alone, I was actually an hostile Indian too.
