Part I – Attari to Wagha, On Foot! 

My passport rested with the Pak Rangers while I was sitting on the road clicking photographs of the other side of Pakistan. They happily allowed me to click photographs and didn’t inquire much.

I have heard that a couple of years ago, the Indian side did not have a proper Customs and Immigration Department. But I was amazed to see the new complex they have constructed in a record time.

To my surprise, the Customs Department of Pakistan was as good as the Indian side. I mean infrastructure was good, functioning was dismal. There were coolies, currency brokers roaming inside the Customs Block and it looked like ‘Delhi Bus Adda.‘

It surely was not a High-Security Zone considering the fact that the X Ray machines were not turned on. And nobody bothered to check my bags.

Indians can very well relate to such scenes.  Imagine a Delhi Metro station where the security guy is busy ogling at college girls and keeps ignoring the X Ray Scan screen. #Similarity 1

Most of them were wearing Kurta-Pajamas and I wasn’t sure whom to ask for help. A guy walked up to me and asked if I wanted to exchange currency. I took him to be an Officer but he was a money broker. When I said no, he pointed towards the counter and asked me to show my passport to the man behind the counter.

There was a White Guy standing close to me, and he looked dumbfounded because the man behind the counter was speaking to him in Punjabi. The Finnish guy was wearing a Kurta but even that didn’t help the situation. Everyone was grinning and even the Finnish guy started laughing at the situation.

The white guy was from Finland, he had come from China to NW Pakistan, and now he was going to Leh. And he walked across these entire International borders; from China, to Pakistan, and to India. How I wish they allowed Indians to go and seek blessings from the Karakoram Mountains.

Now I needed money. By then, I knew that the guy who approached me earlier was not an officer but a broker. I was expecting a money exchange counter but that was too much to ask for. Ayesha, my Pakistani friend had warned me against exchanging currency with these brokers because they are loaded with fake currency. I converted only INR 1,000 because I needed money in my pocket.

Because my plan was to walk all the way from Attari to Lahore, I could exchange money in Lahore. As I stepped outside the Customs Department, a guy on a funny motorbike offered me a lift. His name was Waqar and he gave me lift without even knowing who I was and where I was coming from. #Similarity 2

He dropped me at the Taxi Stand and asked me not to pay more than 500. I told him I do not intend to pay at all. He laughed at the idea of walking and wished me luck. The Taxi guy knew that I was coming from India but he didn’t know that I was going to hitchhike.

He laughed at the crazy idea and said that I will be here all day long, waiting for you to come back. I hope he didn’t wait long.

And I started walking.

Towards Lahore, to see the land where Bhagat Singh died, where Ravi flows, where the declaration of Indian Independence was passed.

There is a popular saying in Punjabi, “Jine Lahore ni vekhya, o jammeyya hi nahin” (One who has not seen Lahore has not been born).

This was my chance to see Lahore, to be a part of it, to witness the soil that once belonged to India, when there were no gates, no divisions. This was my chance to see our glorious past.

There were kids playing cricket on the road and they were speaking Punjabi which was beyond my understanding. Even in Attari, the kind of Punjabi they speak is different from what I have heard in Ludhiana, Amritsar, Chandigarh, Hoshiarpur, and other major cities of Punjab.

My camera attracted those kids and when I told them that I have come from India, they all asked only one question, “Have you met Salman Khan?”

The road from Wagha to Lahore is a four-lane road. Roundabouts, milestones, road dividers; everything is there, minus the driving sense. Those who have traveled in Punjab, especially Ludhiana and Amritsar would feel at home. And helmets are yet to be invented there. #Similarity 3

I had walked 5 kilometers already and now it was time for a lift. As I sat on the road, I saw a motorbike coming towards me. The motorbike guy was a young lad rather a kid and he gladly accepted me as his pillion. When I told him that I was coming from India, he started worrying about the remaining distance and offered to drop me at Lahore. He was 14-15 years old and I am 27. I laughed at his concern yet it was a lovely gesture on his part.

He too was a fan of Salman Khan and told me that Khan means Musalman.

“Ah! You must be knowing, you too are a Musalman, aren’t you?” looking at my beard he said, and I smiled again. Knowing that I was carrying my laptop with me, he asked me to give few movies to him as he couldn’t get good print in his village, Bata Nagar.

You read it right, he lived in Bata Nagar. And it is the same Bata we all know in India.

He was shocked when I told him that I don’t like Salman Khan. He couldn’t believe his ears.

To impress me, he accelerated more than his bike could handle. It was a fuckin 70CC moped and he was riding as if we were sitting on a Harley. The speedometer showed 90 kmph and he wasn’t wearing any helmet. I told him that I was impressed. And finally I got down at the bus stop.

Now I was tired and wanted to go in the bus. As soon as the bus was about to leave, I saw a similar motorbike engineered to work like an auto-rickshaw. Without wasting a second, I got down from the bus.

Who wouldn’t like to ride a Chinchi?

It is called Qinchi/Chinchi in Pakistan and it can accommodate as much as 14 passengers. In India, we have (almost) similar provisions, just that we call them with different names. But a Chinchi is a Chinchi, one of its kind. 

I didn’t see stranger men and women traveling together in Pakistan. I was sitting in the back of the Chinchi and when two ladies wanted to sit, I was asked to come in the front, although the back of the Chinchi could afford 4 passengers easily.

Poor economic sense, I must say.

And now I was close to the land of the Great Indian Superhero, Bhagat Singh. He spent a good part of his life in Pakistan, Lahore. One of the reasons I was in Pakistan was to see the Lahore Jail. However, I got to know Lahore Jail where Bhagat Singh was hanged has been renamed as Shadman Chowk (Shadman Square). The Lahore administration was planning to rename it to Bhagat Singh Chowk but then shit happens. Religious outfits protested and all hell broke loose.

It was an emotional moment for me. I walked 5 kilometers to be at the Shadman Square. There I met an auto guy who somehow figured out that I was there for Bhagat Singh. He stopped by, stepped out of his auto and said, “Je Bhagat Singh ni hunda, ta kuj vi ni hunda.” (We are free because of Bhagat Singh).

I have read a lot about Bhagat Singh, which started in 2004-05 and believe me he was a powerhouse of energy and intellect. Read this to know more- Bhagat Singh Jail Diary. At one point, I used to think that he was a Demi-God (I still do!)

The auto guy became my guiding angel in the city of Lahore. Lahore looks like Old Delhi. Forts, mosques, poor roads, crowded places, yet a lively atmosphere all around. The auto guy was a school drop-out yet he knew everything about the history of ‘our’ struggle for freedom. He certainly knew more than me.

I decided to go by train to Islamabad but Pakistan is not India. They rely on the roadways and do not pay attention to the railways. The trains are not a reliable mode of transportation and I was told this by the security guy himself.

Lahore Railway Station reminded me of the Kanpur Railway Station (Click to see image)

I had no option but to believe him.

And then finally, I was on my way to Islamabad. In a Daewoo Bus, we have Volvo Buses in India, they have Daewoo Buses. The only difference is a female bus-hostess, if that makes sense at all. It didn’t make any sense to me. They have young and pretty bus hostesses in their buses. Imagine a beautiful lady sitting with our ‘bus ustaads‘, even to think of it is scary.

Both the nations are on the same lines as far as women liberation is concerned. In the name of strengthening women, both India and Pakistan are selling glamour. #Similarity 4

After spending 6 hours in Lahore, I felt that I was in Delhi. Lahore Fort for Red Fort, Minar-e-Pak for Qutub Minar, Meena Bazar for Chandni Chowk, and so on. The similarities are endless. Even the language is Punjabi.

And then there are endless differences as well.

My bus was now on one of the best Highways of the World, the Motorway M-II, Pride of Pakistan.

A distance of 377 Kilometers is covered in just 4.5 Hours, fucking unbelievable! 

The Katas Temples and Taxilla was all I could think of.

Part III – One Night at the Wagha Border