Two days ago had the dubious privilege of watching the Closing of the Border ceremony, a nightly event, when the cat gets put out, the hot water bottles filled, the mugs of Horlicks taken upstairs and all traffic between India and Pakistan is suspended until the following day.
If only it was so homely.
What I saw, at the crossing between Amritsar and Lahore, was a faintly comic display of socio-political muscle flexing wrapped up in a pageant that whiffed of The Nuremberg Rallies and Jeux sans Fontiėres. The crowds that had gathered on both sides of the gate where whipped into much nationalistic whooping, cheering and jeering.
The India border forces looked fearsome, and there was a good deal of goose stepping and high kicking going on. And this takes place every single night. The men in the first photo were a lot less tolerant of my tourist camera than our own dear Horse Guards...
If only it was so homely.
What I saw, at the crossing between Amritsar and Lahore, was a faintly comic display of socio-political muscle flexing wrapped up in a pageant that whiffed of The Nuremberg Rallies and Jeux sans Fontiėres. The crowds that had gathered on both sides of the gate where whipped into much nationalistic whooping, cheering and jeering.
The India border forces looked fearsome, and there was a good deal of goose stepping and high kicking going on. And this takes place every single night. The men in the first photo were a lot less tolerant of my tourist camera than our own dear Horse Guards...
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