smokerings

[ wagha ]

we didnt take any pictures. although everyone around us did. big festival, push and shove, go and see the other side...
we missed the change of guards. apparently thats the fun bit.
one man with a huge green flag smiling and taking pictures with everyone. clearly, a professional. little kids with bags of chips, little girls in high heels.. a few hundred yards away a group of kids in navy blue school uniforms. mums and dads in sweaters grabbing hands, herding families. bubblegum-snapping, slicked-haired teenagers in jeans and sweaters, cars and buses and vans lined up on either side. guards in turbans like pecock crowns keeping a steady flow of spectators... so you walk up to the gates... smile wave boo holler as prescribed by the current political situation... walk by the double gates and head back. like a zoo.

india, the indian pointed.
yeah.. that looks like i...nuh..duh...i..
what are you talking about?
the hindi thing. im trying to read it.
it says "bharat".
oh.



so think of this field. its exactly the same on either side, the same shade of green, the same kinds of trees and buffaloes. and if i were to drive a stake into the ground, and another stake some distance away, and another... and link the stakes with barbed wire.. its meaningless to me. you've just made my feild very dirty and ugly. i can climb over in a second.
no, but you can't.
what do you mean? i jump gates all the time. and this one isnt even that high. i bet i could jump it.
no, but you can't.

you've driven through indian punjab, right? so is it exactly the same?
richer.
in what way? buildings?
buildings, structures, roads... its cleaner, people are better off.


i just dont get it. i cant twist my mind around it. the whole concept of borders and territory.. it just doesnt make sense. its very disturbing. i think im beginning to get a bit of toba tek singh syndrome.
same thing on the mexican border. the americans can go into mexico, but those guys cant get into the US.
they must feel like shit, not being able to go across.

i keep thinking of the trains that came in, during partition.. and all that violence by either side. it feels terrible, standing here, on all that blood. are you familiar with wilfred owen? he wrote this great poem called Futility... and theres this line in it which goes like "was it for this the clay grew tall"... and standing here all i can think of is that... was it for this...




strangest ive ever felt in a while. sanaa, i owe you an apology... you do feel like crying.