In the circumstances what transpired was almost a miracle. On a muggy, incredibly dark, menacingly silent night, as our caravan made its way from Amritsar station to the border, people, more people and still more people suddenly appeared from literally nowhere. When we finally arrived at the garishly nationalistic dividing gate, candles in hand, slogans on lips, observed from afar by bemused Pakistani Rangers, the crowd had swelled to nearly 500. Even more miraculous: 90 per cent of those who joined us from Amritsar were not human rights activists or professional do-gooders, they were ordinary, humble citizens—men, women and children—proclaiming Indo-Pak friendship and denouncing both governments with equal vigour for "keeping two brothers apart". One had to be physically present to get a feel of the emotions and the goodwill that bathed the border for an hour or so that night.
Journalists pride themselves on being unsentimental, but I promise you on the midnight of August 14, if you had been at the Wagah border you would have witnessed something extraordinarily moving.
