Indian Whispers

Indian / Pakistan ceremony

Approaching the border gate from opposite sides were soldiers with their high lifting of legs

and aggression on their faces. As they faced each other, the heavy foot stomping started.

People were cheering, dancing and waving Indian flags. They chanted, “Bharat mata ki Jai” (Victory to mother India).

“Pakistan Zindabad” (Long live Pakistan) shouted the people across the border.

The atmosphere was jubilant with the beat of drums, and music blasting on the loudspeakers. Hundreds of spectators on both sides were whipped into a frenzy by compere chanting and the singing of patriotic songs.

Wearing colourful headgear, spreading out like the peacock’s feathers, the soldiers were marching on both sides of the border.

It was June 2017 and this was the Wagah border flag ceremony between India and Pakistan, held daily.

The brothers Taj, 29 and Sandip, 21 had arrived one day earlier from London.

Taj looked at his younger brother, seeing the excitement in his eyes for their first proper exploration of India together. “Don’t be deceived by the festive spirit,” he murmured. “Ever since the British partitioned India in 1947, there has been intense enmity between these two nuclear armed countries. Every year, villagers from both sides of the border have been killed in the crossfire.”

Heavy for his five foot six and in need of thick glasses, Taj worked as a clinical psychologist in a London hospital while Sandip was taking the gap year following his graduation. Their doctor parents had arrived in England from India in the seventies and worked in NHS hospitals all over the country.

Whereas Taj was neat, tidy and organised, Sandip was carefree. His bedroom, like his life, was messy, with everything on the floor.

At six feet tall with a muscular body, grey eyes and fair complexion, Sandip had always been the more confident of the two. There were times when Taj disapproved of his brother’s constant partying and drinking at his university.

Sitting at the border, his mind wandered towards the news stories he’d heard of the frequent border firings between India and Pakistan, which felt a world away from the celebrations and jubilation he was seeing today.

They had been on many family short visits to visit grandparents in Delhi but now the brothers wanted to truly explore India, the land of their parents.

In London, the brothers frequently argued about faith and culture. Taj would tell Sandip, “You are a coconut, a westernised Indian with little knowledge of Hindu faith and culture. You can’t even speak Hindi properly. Ignorance is not bliss.”

“I am proud to be British but I also respect Indian culture,” replied Sandip.

“No, you don’t. I am your elder brother. Indian culture teaches you to respect elders. Do you?”

Growing up, Taj had been jealous of Sandip as he felt that his younger brother was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. During his childhood, Taj got less time from the parents as both worked long hours as junior hospital doctors and struggled financially. Taj had to change school whenever parents got new jobs, working at hospitals in different cities of UK.

Sandip, on the other hand, had a more settled and happy childhood with more time with mum and dad, who were by then financially comfortable.

Taj thought of the on-call hospital pager in his father’s shirt pocket on all his childhood birthday photographs. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a deafening sound.

“What was that loud sound?” asked Taj

“Someone lighted the firecrackers,” replied Sandip.

“Thank God, the blast did not start a nuclear war!” whispered Taj.

The flags of both countries were being lowered. The massive border gate was closing.

People were happy, full of energy, singing patriotic songs.

Sandip looked at his mobile. He had a message from his network operator, “Welcome to Pakistan.”

Sandip was still in India. He wondered what would happen to him if he entered Pakistan accidentally. He noticed that only a short fence separated the farms on both sides of the border.

The crowds were going home. The vendors were still selling Indian flags and bottled water. Shops selling alcohol were doing brisk business.

One said, “English tourists welcome to Indian Punjab. Cheers.”

“Imagine,” said Taj, “an English tourist coming from Pakistan, seeing chilled beer being sold on the roadside on a hot Indian day. What would he do?”

“Say cheers, of course,” replied Sandip.

Their taxi was waiting to take them to the Sikh holy city of Amritsar, 27 km away.

“Welcome to India,” breathed Taj. 2) Spiritual journey

The next day, the brothers visited the Sikh holy shrine, the Golden temple.

Sikhism was founded in Punjab, India in the 15th Century by Guru Nanak.

More than 500 years ago, Guru Nanak saw a society divided by caste and inequality where women were regarded as inferior. He preached that women were worthy of praise and equal to men. He preached selfless service to all needy people.

The concept of langar was introduced where everyone irrespective of caste, religion, colour, creed, gender or social status could sit on the ground together as equals and eat the same food. This free meal which is always vegetarian is still served in every Sikh place of worship (Gurdwara) worldwide by volunteers.

There was a big sign on the entrance of the Golden temple. “Remove the shoes and cover your head.” At one of the shoe stalls around the temple complex, they removed their shoes and socks and were handed a token with a number on it.

As the brothers entered the Golden Temple, Taj could not believe his eyes as he saw the awe-inspiring golden Harmandar Sahib surrounded by a huge pool, whose waters reflected the gurdwara lights. They joined the pilgrims, women wearing colourful clothes, their heads covered and men wearing bright-coloured turbans or colourful headscarves. There were hundreds of people on the marble walkway, some were sitting around the pool, meditating and praying. Over the speakers, hymns were relayed from Harmandir Sahib. These hymns were from the holy book called Guru Granth Sahibji, which Sikhs revere as a living Guru.

They reached the causeway, which was going to take them into the inner sanctum. It took them an hour to cover the short distance over the pool. While in the queue, they could see fish swimming around in the water. When they reached the front of the queue they had to wait again as only a few pilgrims were allowed in at one time. Finally, they were inside in front of the Guru Granth sahib. Everyone on entering, paid their respects by bowing down on the floor. The inside was beautifully adorned and decorated from floor to ceiling. The priest with the musician was singing a hymn about the power of the mind.

Suffering with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), Sandip knew that fully well.

He washed his hands with soap many times and he could see that his hands were clean, but until his mind told him that the hands were clean, he could not stop washing.

The brothers sat on the edge of the pond, Amrit Sarovar.

Sandip asked, “Why are some people taking a dip in the water?”

Taj replied, “The pool is believed to have healing properties.”

Sandip said, “I have always had doubts about the existence of God, but today I felt a serene aura when I saw people praying. I felt having a faith is really beautiful. I would like to thank you for bringing me to this magical, spiritual place.”

“Let's have langar,”said Taj. “It is considered a blessing. For tourists, it is an experience but for the needy, it may be the only meal of the day served free and with lot of respect.”

So, they visited the largest free kitchen in the world, the massive langar eating halls, where hundreds were sitting on the floor to eat together. Sandip and Taj sat down on the mats and were served rotis (flatbread made from wholemeal flour, rice, daal (lentils), a vegetable dish and kheer (dessert).

After enjoying the hot meal, Taj made enquiries and was told, “Usually 90% of working staff is made of volunteers, some only for few hours while others volunteer every day. Food is served for up to 100,000 people daily, of all religions and faiths.

The brothers visited the kitchen where they learnt that the volunteers washed 300,000 plates, spoons and bowls each day.

Taj was told, “The yearly budget of running the kitchen runs into hundreds of millions rupees. The expenses are managed through donations from all over the world.”

Another volunteer said, “I get so much happiness serving the langar. Here, there is no one rich or poor, they are only good souls.”

The eating hall was cleaned after every serving.

Taj also helped in the cleaning. He is a Hindu and respects all religions. Sometimes, he would attend a Gurdwara in London and enjoy the musical hymns from the Sikh holy book and the hot vegetarian food served in the langar.

Taj asked Sandip, “Do you know, what the Sikh prayer ends with?”

“I don’t.”

“Sarbat da bhala,” replied Taj. “Plea to God for welfare and prosperity of all mankind”

“You mean wellbeing of everyone in the world?”

“Yes, because Sikhs believe the same one God resides in every person, irrespective of their faith.”

“If leaders of the world believed in this, there would be no wars,” murmured Sandip.

The brothers did not feel like leaving the Golden Temple, but it was getting late at night and they had to travel to Shimla the following morning.

At the shoe stall they gave the tokens. The man handed them their shoes.

“These are not my shoes,” Sandip told him.

The man shrugged. “Your token number matches with the number, we put in your shoes.”

“My shoes were dirty and muddy, these are clean and shining.”

The man laughed. “Look at that group of men and women polishing the shoes of worshippers. They do this out of respect and love for the pilgrims and it teaches humility.”

Sandip felt embarrassed and quickly thanked the man.

Taj laughed and told Sandip, “I hope you have learnt the meaning of selfless service.”3) Travel to Shimla

Shimla is 342km from Amritsar. It attracts lots of English tourists as in 1864, it became summer capital of British India rule and there is so much British history in Shimla. It lies in the south western ranges of Himalayas.

At 8am, they walked to the taxi stand and bartered the fare for their journey to Shimla. Driving through the green fields of Punjab, they noticed that everywhere on Indian highways were lavishly decorated trucks. They drove with a gleeful disregard for traffic lanes, other vehicles and even the fundamental laws of physics, despite being much overloaded.

Sandip loved reading the brightly coloured signs behind different trucks. “Horn please. Go slow, we meet again but if you go fast, you go up alone. Don’t keep smiling at me, you will fall in love.”

One truck sign simply said, “Overtake me at your peril.”

Most of the trucks had the following phrase painted on the back: “Horn OK please.”

Taj asked the taxi driver, “What does it mean?”

“They want you to sound the horn before overtaking them,” replied the driver.

Sandip said, “It should say Horn not OK please. The drivers pointlessly sound the horn, causing noise pollution.”

“In the cities, the car drivers honk at red lights as if honking would turn the green signal faster.”

Sandip laughed. “Maybe the lights should change according to the loudness of the honking.”

“Then all cities would be full of deaf drivers,” said Taj.

They were hungry now. Sandip only wanted to eat at clean and hygienic cafes on the highway although Taj liked the cheap eating places on the highways, called Dhabas, where you could have hot delicious aloo parathas, flatbread stuffed with potatoes and spices, with Lassi, a yogurt-based drink. The taxi driver stopped at a lovely Punjabi restaurant with statues of Punjabi folk dancers at the entrance.

Sandip had butter chicken with tandoori naan while Taj had chole- spiced chickpea curry with bhature- soft, fluffy fried leavened bread.

Taj found it too spicy but Sandip enjoyed his meal and was pleased as the premises were clean and cold mineral water was available.

The journey took longer as some anti-government protesters were lying on the highway and there was a traffic jam until the police arrived and removed them.

They reached Chandigarh in the late afternoon. It is 120km from Shimla.

Chandigarh, the capital of Punjab and Haryana, a neighbouring state were built by a famous Swiss-French architect, Le Corbusier. Chandigarh is considered to be the best planned city in India with modern architecture.

The taxi driver advised an overnight stay, but the brothers wanted to get on. The driver agreed, provided he got frequent breaks on the way to Shimla on the journey through tortuous mountain roads. As they approached Shimla, the landscape became more beautiful, from lush green meadows to snow-clad mountains.

They reached their destination, a heritage hotel, built during the British rule.

In the hotel lobby, they found themselves amid Victorian architecture. Photos of British socialites mingling at tea parties and gala evenings with Indian aristocracy decorated the walls.

Later, when Sandip was enjoying the complimentary snacks in the balcony of his room, he noticed they had visitors.

“Hey look who are here. Cute little monkeys!”

A moment later, he gasped. “Oh my God, they have taken the chocolates from my plate. The room key is gone too! These monkeys are fearless.”

The hotel security guard told Sandip to be careful with his wallet and camera. “One tourist lost his passport to a monkey, who emptied his coat pockets.”

The following day, the brothers decided to visit a Hindu temple on the hill. They stopped at a shop to buy prasad as an offering to God at the temple. The prasad was vegetarian food prepared with rice, milk and sugar.

The shopkeeper advised, “You need a stick to keep monkeys away.”

“This is just a selling trick,” Taj told Sandip.

After walking some distance, Taj was surrounded by ten monkeys, with open mouths baring their teeth, and grunting. He felt something in his pocket. It was a monkey’s hand. He panicked, the prasad accidentally fell on the ground and all the monkeys ran to eat it.

“The shopkeeper was right,” he conceded. “We should have bought the stick.”

Walking up the hill, they met a tourist who told them that a monkey had snatched his glasses. That worried Taj.

He told Sandip, “Let’s go back, if I lose my glasses, I won’t be able to see at all.”

Sandip was not happy to turn around. He felt Taj was being cowardly but had to follow his brother.

On the way back, Taj asked the shopkeeper, “Do monkeys also harass the local people?”

The man laughed. “Oh yes, they do not differentiate between locals and tourists.” He advised, “avoid taking selfies or showing your teeth to monkeys, as that seems to irritate them.”

*

Next day, the brothers visited museums and places of historical interests where major historical accords were signed, both in British India and independent India.

In Viceregal Lodge, a majestic building built by the British in 1888, Sandip whispered, “Can you imagine British civil servants sitting in this room, discussing and planning the Partition of India in 1947?”

This had been the official summer residence of the British Viceroy and the seat of power of the British empire for six months every year.

“Hard to believe,” said Sandip, “that the British, ruled the world every summer from this small hill station called Shimla.”

The guide said, “In this very building, at the end of the British empire in 1947 after ruling India for two hundred years, the Indian leaders met the last Viceroy, Lord Louis Mountbatten, to discuss partition. The partition was one of the greatest human disasters. On 15th August 1947, across India and Pakistan 14 million people were displaced and deaths are estimated from 200,000 to 2 million. The new borders split Punjab and Bengal in two, when Muslim-majority Pakistan, a new country, was created. It resulted in massive migration and communal violence, Hindus and Sikhs fleeing Pakistan and Muslims going in the other direction. The trains were arriving on both sides of the border loaded with corpses, giving rise to more anger and more violence. Thousands of women were abducted and raped. The atmosphere of hostility and suspicion between India and Pakistan has plagued their relationship to the present.”

Sandip whispered to Taj, “Should the British have stayed longer and arranged for the police and military to plan security before departing?”

“I wish the tragedy had been averted by any means,” replied Taj. “I am sorry to say that I feel ashamed that the British authorities ruling during that period, treated Partition in such a casual manner that they created a humanitarian disaster.”

The guide continued, “I can guess why the British made Shimla, this magnificent hill station, their summer capital. It has British weather and the beauty of the Himalayas. Shimla’s summer season begins in March and lasts until June with the average high temperature of 24∞C.”

On the way back, they took a Toy Train ride from Shimla to Kalka, now a UNESCO world heritage site. It had dramatic views of the hills and surrounding villages.

Built by the British in 1906 to connect Shimla to the rest of the Indian rail system, it had more than 100 tunnels and 864 bridges in the rugged mountains.

Feeling proud of British engineering, they reached Kalka.

From there they took the train to Delhi.

At Delhi station, Sandip noticed a sign. “Beware of pickpockets!”

On reading it, people would immediately put their hands in their pockets to check.

He asked Taj, “Is that how the pickpockets select their victims?”

“Maybe.”

Taj narrated a story of an Indian businessman who made a big pouch in his traditional long and loose underwear to hide his cash on the train journey.

In the morning, when he woke up in the train, he felt lighter down below.

In the toilet, he was aghast and confused. The hidden pouch was cut and all the money gone. On checking the trouser, all he found was a hole in his back pocket.

Sandip said, “Was it the work of a pickpocket or a laparoscopic surgeon!”