Long on our agenda was visiting the well-known Wagah Border, the crossing between India and Pakistan. We had much discussed the Beating Retreat Ceremony. This daily flag-lowering ritual draws thousands of viewers on both sides and transforms the border into a stadium of national pride.

The atmosphere was cloudy, and the cold air smelled of approaching rain that afternoon as we headed near the border. Lush fields and scattered dhabas flanked the trip from Amritsar, transforming the landscape from busy city life to the expansive countryside.

The energy was electrifying by the Wagah Border complex when we arrived. From speakers, loud patriotic music blared, the throng screaming “Bharat Mata Ki Jai!” and “Vande Mataram!” Men, women, and kids seated in the grandstands waiting for the ceremony started waving flags in the air.

As we took our seats, the sky opened up. At first, it was a mild drizzle, but the rain came down in torrents in a few minutes, dousing everything in view.

Drenched but Resolved

There was hesitancy for a minute. While others hurried to hide under whatever meager cover they could, most of the throng stayed still. The rain seemed like another endurance test, another common experience drawing everyone together.

We stood there grinning while totally wet. Our garments hung on our skin, and the cool water sprinkled down our faces, yet nobody paid attention. Instead, the rain accentuated the thrill—people laughed, kids splashed in puddles, and the chants got even louder, as if to question the storm itself.

Looking across the border, we could see the Pakistani audience reflecting our excitement, their positions full, their cheers just as forceful. Two countries separated by history seemed bizarre, reflecting each other in passion and pride.

The Event Starts

The Border Security Force (BSF) men marched out with their trademark high kicks and aggressive gestures despite the rain. The coordinated show of force and discipline was hypnotic. Conversely, the Pakistan Rangers conducted aggressive drills, both sides moving accurately and their boots pounding in time.

The tension in the air was evident, and the flags were lowered with great respect, but the whole experience was very human. There was also respect for all the aggressiveness in the performance—a realization that we are all simply people suffering the same rain under the same heavens regardless of boundaries and politics.

Leave With a Full Heart

As we returned, we were still wet, and I couldn’t help but think about the occasion. It was about experiencing the pulse of a nation, fostering a collective sense that transcended personal boundaries, and not merely witnessing a military event.

The rain had washed away all discomfort, leaving just the raw beauty of the moment—one in which strangers stood together, soaking but unmoved, supporting their nation with all their hearts.

Maybe the rain reminded us that we are all still standing under the same sky, feeling the same rain, and linked in ways we sometimes overlook, regardless of how many lines are drawn on a map or whether a border exists.

Author and photo credit: Cristy