Another day along the zero line...

Anirudh Gupta

WHEN dusk falls, the eerie silence is punctured and the mute lush fields of Hussainiwala are set ablaze by the thunderous tapping of feet by BSF sentinels, who match every step, every motion with their Pakistani counterparts in a bid to outdo them. 

A visit to the Hussainiwala joint checkpost (JCP) is an integral part of the itinerary of all those visiting the border town of Punjab. It may be a visiting dignitary, a relative or a friend of a local resident, the unusual visit turns out to be a memorable and a lifetime experience to witness this electrifying drill, where the feeling of patriotism is juxtaposed with India-Pakistan hostilities engulfing the hearts of one and all. 

As soon as you walk past the BSF checkpost, the entire atmosphere looks charged. The ‘alien’ nation, which was once a part of ours, is just a stone’s throw away, with only the barbed wire separating the two. The cobra fencing, bunkers, ditch-cum-bundhs (DCBs) and the observation towers that have sprung up all along the border are straight out from a war movie. 

For all those who come from far and wide to witness the tall, sturdy BSF jawans marching step by step, trying to prove an edge over the Pakistani Rangers, it is an experience of a different kind, of a different world. The raised eyebrows, the stretched shoulders, the impressive bearing, the daring glances and the contours of these dare-devil commandos with the motto ‘Duty Unto Death’ sends waves of tremors through the body. It is a strange emotion...mixed feelings.

With the last note of the bugle, the ceremony ends amid a thunderous applause by the audience on both sides. The sentinels of both nations match their movements with precision while lowering their respective national flags. With an intense feeling of patriotism, spirit of sacrifice and hatred for the man on the other side — writ large on their faces — these guardians of the nation, the Seema Prahiris, march back to their barracks.

The enthusiastic crowd on either side slowly makes their way home, but not before stealing a glance only to look behind at their ‘brethren’ separated by hatred. The sun goes down followed by a dark sheet marking the end of the day’s journey, day after day, year after year. 

People on both sides of the border keep thronging the JCP with different streaks of thoughts. For some, it is a stereotypical ritual, for some it is a perfect drill by soldiers, and for some others, it is a glimpse of the land and the people on the other side which was once their own.