Wagah border

I spent a night in Amritsar after that ordeal in Jammu. Although determined to leave India, I however will not do so before having some of the gorgeous Parantha Thali at Brothers' Dhaba. I still felt rather upset about not being able to go to Srinagar, seeing pictures of my two other friends who managed to slip through by flight made me Pak-green with envy (our paths diverged from Delhi, I went alone to Amritsar to attempt the overland route but they were right in flying directly to Srinagar - this a long story in itself).

Crossing the Wagah border was a piece of cake. There was almost no one who crossed the Indo-Pak border that day. Just me and a Nepalese. But at the same time there were so many people there, all stood firm on their side of the border, to watch the Border Ceremony. I didn't stay to see it though, much to the horror of many Indians and Pakistanis but parades, armies and patrotism make me nauseous.

The border is a entertainment ground as much as it being a, well, border crossing. There were amphitheatres, audiovisual equipments and decorations on both sides. It is the most opulent border in the world. Nothing like the usual no man's land characteristic of other crossings.

Entering Pakistan, throngs of crowd lined up for the spectacle. It was the Pakistani Independence Day. The atmosphere was festive and the Urdu accent began to excite me. The first thing I did was to pray at the border mosque, I felt relieved to leave Jammu. I was quite shaken by the curfew. Unlike in India, no one was hostile or gave me suspicious looks at the mosque - only smile and delight that someone of a different nation share their beliefs.

When I got to the Pakistani immigration checkpoint, there was a power loss. It was to become my first glimpse on the hardship of everyday life in the country. Power cuts happen so regularly (few hours everyday) people have to plan lives around it. Feeling rather embarassed perhaps, the officer only smiled and apologised to which I obviously said koi bhat nahin (it's ok). At this moment, the chief officer at the border came out of his glass box and saw me to which he cried "You're Malaysian! Welcome to Pakistan" much to my surprise. After being mistaken for all sorts of East Asians, to be identified like that made me ecstatic.

I was invited to his glass box office for a cup of tea and we had a fantastic conversation about Malaysia. He served in Sudan in a UN mission, alongside many Malaysian colleagues whom he said impressed him greatly. We also spoke about religion and freedom. As it turned out news of Malaysian government violent crackdown on Shias made its way to Pakistani media. I was deeply embarassed, naturally gave no defence to this authoritarian regime but joined in his condemnation of this violation of basic human rights. I was going to tell him about the podcast series I worked on with BukuJalanan (on the discrimination against te Malaysian Shias) but the power came back and we proceeded with the immigration business. As with all Pakistanis I met later on, he gave his contact number in the case that I get into any kind of trouble, gave practical advice on safety in Pakistan and warmly wished me a great journey ahead.

After passing the checkpoints, I walked for few kilometres in a straight road that stretches to the horizon. By the roadside thousands lined up for the border ceremony in flags and with painted faces. Thousands of smiles, like waves, greeted me. After an hour or so of walking in this rather dreary straight road leading nowhere, a family saw me walking in the rain, gave me a free ride to Lahore and before dropping me off, took me to a restaurant.

I knew I was going to love the Pakistani people.