A poetic journey through India’s edges — where pride, peace, and people meet.
I was lucky to see borders, more than one:
Dhanushkodi – where the vision claims to be Sri Lanka,
China – just across the tall buildings at Nathula Pass,
Mana – a small village—India’s last one near Tibet,
Wagah – a border, steeped in decades of tension with Pak:
A tuk-tuk ride, thirty minutes’ journey,
I joined a mini India, proud faces all around,
People with no religion or place but simply Indians,
I too embraced my own pride as an Indian.
Long queues but no one hurried,
Strict security checks, yet no one complained,
Kids painting other’s faces in tricolor,
A festival mood with happy faces, celebrating Indianness.
Inside the tense border, a surprising warmth,
Infamous border news, seemed like mere stories,
Yet face-to-face with uniformed soldiers across the gates,
A warm air of friendliness at the border with Pakistan.
Patriotic songs fill the air, countless Indian flags,
Hundreds on both sides, a border festival in full swing,
Barbed fences, the next country visible in the distance,
The fierce display, dramatic yet disciplined, amazing.
Decibels soar with each “Jai Hind,”
The spectacle begins as tall soldiers march in perfect steps,
Same with counterparts across the gate, with piercing stares,
They moved, we roared in unison, “India, India.”
They marched with steps we had never seen,
We applauded, losing energy with every beat.
The other side mirrored, a perfect replica,
The show was on, movements rising higher.
The sound reached its peak, tricolour standing tall,
At the gate, the unfurling of the flag began.
Music soared as it lowered, gates still open,
Flag in hand, pride on faces, folded with precision.
The gate closed, a military farewell across boundaries,
They marched back, flag in hand as a priceless item.
The show ended, and so did our energy,
A day to cherish, thanks to our soldiers’ honour.
Written after witnessing the Wagah Border ceremony — an experience that transforms pride into emotion
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