Borderline...

Pulled into the station at Amritsar and I was pretty well asleep, only when one of the Germans tapped me did I wake up and start gathering my stuff. Five of us jammed into a rickshaw and headed straight to the Golden Temple- Amritsar's claim to fame, and the holy pilgrimage site of the Sikh religion. It was quite impressive, and since we were there at the crack of dawn, we were the only westerners there with the thousands of pilgrims milling around. The light was also impressive at that early morning hour, bouncing of the glowing golden domes. I know very little about Sikhs- save the fact that they don't cut their hair or beards, and keep them in their turbans. The other observation I will make is that they keep lots of stuff in their turbans- like, pens, notebooks, and little combs they take out and comb their mustaches with. Yeah, mustache combs. They are also very proud of their history as brave warriors and vengeance seekers. The museum had enormous photos of the corpses of the martyrs who had occupied the temple in the early 80's demanding an independent Sikh state- (the bulletholes are also still visible), an uprising crushed by Indira Gandhi. But as the caption pointed out "The Sikhs would have their vengeance!" True- Indira was assassinated by her Sikh bodyguards weeks later. Similarly, an uprising against the British was crushed by a British general, who was then assasinated while in London twenty years later! The museum was full of bloody tales and bloody paintings of various sikhs being tortured and beheaded, then getting their vengeance later.
But its not all about being warriors- I don't mean to give that impression. Like many religions in India, it was a reaction to the caste system of Hinduism and the rigidity of Islam. A strong belief in the equality of all people means that everyone eats together at the same table or floor- which we did in the pilgrim hall. They dished out decent dhal and rice as well as chapatis from a machine all for free, which we ate with our turbaned brothers and sisters on the floor of the temple dining hall. That was a fun experience.

I found a hotel and crashed for the rest of the morning, and then got up to look for a restaurant. I trudged around in the heat until some Indian yuppies started talking to me in a way I knew I wouldn't be able to escape. "Which country?"

"U.S. and A" (I've taken to responding to this inevitable and constant question with a little bit of Borat) The same old conversation went on and on, then they asked- frankly rather Borat-like:
"In USA, there are many niggers?"

"Umm, there are black people-African Americans, but they don't like to be called that word.

"Yes, but there are none here so we say that now. Are they dangerous like 50 cent? Do they do drugs? Do you like 50 cent?"

Not wanting to translate the nuances of America's history of racism culturally and linguistically, I fast changed the subject. Next thing I knew though, I was sitting in a coffee shop getting interrogated about western girls, seemingly the favorite topic of eastern men. They kept asking me if I wanted to drink beer with them and go to a brothel, which I kept politely declining. I did take them up on their offer of lunch- the best khulcha in Punjab they assured me. It was delicious too- though I was having so much fun talking to them I didn't even notice I drank the tap water. Oops. (though its been 48 hrs and no sign of trouble) Like most Indians, they kept trying to hold my hand and arm while I walked down the street with them, which was kind of strange- they'd also shout to girls "Englishman!" and point to me, until the police started yelling at them. Then they explained that they liked to stand outside the girl's college and watch them get out of school, but the police wouldn't let them. "Fucking pigs! Fuck the police!" in their lilting Punjab accents. They also kept trying to impress me by trying to use their credit card everywhere- which, shockingly enough was not accepted by the various dhabas we ate at, at which point they'd start shouting "Motherfuckers! I hate these stupid bitches don't take credit cards!" I finally managed to ditch them, though I did enjoy riding on their motorbike and getting a free ride home in the heat.
That night I decided to head to the border and see the only other thing to do in Amritsar- which is watch the border closing ceremony with Pakistan at Attari- the only open border crossing between the countries. I had read that it was entertaining, and some other travellers had recommended it. Since their was nothing else to do, I figured why not spend some time heading out there for what sounded like some kind of subcontinental changing of the guard.
I took a local bus, which was running late on the trip out, and since there were no other Westerners, I figured the whole thing wasn't much to see, or else I was late. Got to Attari, and there seemed to be a festival going on. Food stands were everywhere, people selling India hats and flags, and I asked the guys next to me what was happening. "The border closing!" "Right, but whats all this stuff, is there a festival?" "No- the border crossing- 10,000 people every night!" I headed through the throngs of Sari-clad women and small indian children carrying cotton candy toward the border and what sounded like blaring pop music. I stopped and bought some chips and a soda and headed toward what looked more like a stadium than a border post.

Soon it was apparent that it looked like a stadium because it was a stadium. Imagine a football stadium with a fence running through it lengthwise and a road running through it widthwise. The fence separated Pakistan from India, and the road was for cars that crossed the border during the day. I entered and took a seat on the ground next to the road. It was 120 degrees even at 5:00- I've never sweated through a shirt before that day, and I was literally sitting still not moving. The stands were packed on either side, and ridiculous looking guards preened around in giant hats and menacing stares, the Indians and Pakistanis wearing literally the same outfits just in different color schemes. In the middle of the stadium women danced to nationalist Hindu pop hip-hop and the latest hits (including my fave- "It happens only in India") while the men danced in the stands. (People in India love dancing, at weddings, parties, etc, but the men dance with men and women dance with women). Every so often an MC would start a chant, "HINDUSTAN...." and the crowd would roar "ZANZIBAD"(long live!). Meanwhile, on the other side of the fence the mirror image was happening, which Urdu music and an MC stoking the crowd with "PAK-I-STAAAN....." and the crowd taunting back at Indians "ZANZIBAAAD!!!" Everyone was waving flags and wearing green, white and orange facepaint like it was the Superbowl. Finally, the "show" began. The peacock dressed soldiers from each side would march one at a time to the border while the crowds erupting into wild cheers and chants, goose-stepping and stomping, their faces screwed up into crazy contortions and then wait for the other side to do the same. At last all the soldiers made it up to the front, and high kicked around, almost knocking their own teeth out, before slamming the gates shut so hard one of them fell over, and then they slowly lowered their respective flags. It has to be seen to be believed, so here are some pictures and a youtube link. As the book describes, the whole thing is out of Monty Python's ministry of silly walks sketch...

Came back on another packed bus, filled with exhilarated indians. Found a pharmacy to stock up on more malaria medication, and couldn't help but notice that about half of the pharmacy's stock was aphrodisiacs, including "Spanitch Fly" and "Pusii Brand Sexy Gum." [sic] I think this says something about Indian cultural attitudes toward sex and the sexes.

For Youtube of the border ceremony, Click Here... You may want to fast forward to about 30 seconds in.... But its definitely worth watching!!

Meanwhile, here is the "It happens only in india" video as well, and hopefully will learn to embed video one of these days.