The electronic panel in front of me had started displaying the route of the flight ever since it had left New Delhi. A luminous speck on the screen stood for the destination — Amritsar. Next to it, an equally candescent dot marked Lahore, across the border. As the flight cut an arc and veered left, for a moment, it seemed as if we were headed not for Amritsar but for Lahore. Thankfully, one cannot erect fences in the sky.

The reality on the ground — in the Attari-Wagah border, nearly an hour’s drive from Amritsar — was markedly different. What stood between me and Lahore, a little over 20 kilometres away, were, among other things, an iron gate, a massive edifice bearing a morose national flag, a delirious crowd on the verge of a stampede, cursing jawans and... a towering horse. The animal — it loomed over the milling crowd — commanded greater respect than the armed sentinels. Moments later, I knew why.

Men and women had been ordered by the hollering jawans to form two separate files. They were then instructed to proceed towards the stands from where they could watch the day’s attraction — the Beating Retreat ceremony. Unsurprisingly, it was the men who decided to break the rules. As the cordon was lifted by the hawkish jawans to let in a handful of visitors, a swarm of men burst through the barricade, shouting “Bharat Mata ki jay”. It was the stallion that reacted before his minders. Letting out an angry snort, it charged towards the surging men. The men did not stop running though. Only this time, they ran in the opposite direction, away from the horse, towards the handful of visitors who had, wisely, decided to remain in the queue.

Order was restored after the chaos shaded seamlessly into the comic. After I made it to near the viewing gallery, I realized it was impossible to get a seat on the stands without risking injury (picture, left). Several people had died in Patna only a day before, but mishaps seldom dampen the enthusiasm of the crowd eager to witness a spectacle.

Had I been able to reach the stands, I would not have been inclined to tolerate the appalling behaviour of the spectators. They cheered the BSF jawans wildly — nothing wrong with that. But the invectives being hurled at the citizens — none of whom was in attendance — of the neighbouring nation left a particularly unpleasant taste. The marching tunes that were being played on the loudspeakers nearby must have whetted their bravado.

In its disregard for public order and joyous endorsement of rabid nationalism, Attari-Wagah represented a miniature version of modern, majoritarian India. Significantly, commerce has profiteered through token gestures of solidarity. A few kilometres away from the border, which witnesses brisk trading in cement, vegetables and fabrics, I stopped for tea at an ornate dhaba— appropriately called Sarhad. The building has been designed to resemble old havelis, not of Amritsar but of Lahore. A crowded exhibition at a glitzy hotel in Amritsar claimed to be selling authentic Pakistani merchandise.

International diplomacy advocates the wonder of free trade to mitigate conflict. Attari-Wagah reiterates the need to complement trade with well-meaning civilian interaction to silence the guns.