AMRITSAR. October 18th

Amritsar (going to border-closing ceremony at Attari / Wagah). The driver of the jeep turns up, and I get in, but not before noticing that the tread of the near-side front tyre is non-existent (the rubber is marble smooth), and I silently wonder what our chances are of completing the journey without a blow-out. The jeep soon fills up - actually they call them jeeps, but they are usually more of a Toyota station wagon. I am sitting right at the back by the tail-gate, next to an Indian family - Mum, Dad and grown up daughter. He is quite fluent in English and is a technician in the Air Force, stationed in Mumbai, but is spending time with his family, who live at their home in Jammu (Kashmir way). On the way to the border we stop in a town about midway, so that his wife and daughter can pray for a few minutes at a Hindu temple there, and I'm beginning to wonder if they've also noticed the smooth tyre. He and I wait outside, and he tells me that he won't go in, because although he used to be a Hindu, he is now an atheist. Later, and before we reach the border, there is a loud thumping coming from under the vehicle, and the young Sikh driver gets out and checks the wheels, but all is well with them. We continue driving with the thumping noise, but finally it ceases, so I suppose whatever was causing it must have fallen off.

The vehicle is parked in a paddock at the back of a 'tourist centre', and we have to walk the last half mile or so to the grandstands at the border. I had imagined that there might be a few hundred people there, but there were several thousand. I get separated from the others, and find myself a spot near the exit of a packed grandstand. It soon gets even more packed though, and I can see the potential for easily being crushed, plus I now can't see anything anyway, so I decide to go outside. On my way down the steps I notice some western tourists walking down the back of the grandstands, and have resolved to follow them, when an Indian guy also says to me that I should go that way. There are some soldiers blocking the path further on, and as I can't see the tourists anymore, I stand about. Then some Indian tourists come up, led by this enormous tall and powerful-looking bloke who is also very assertive, and the soldiers finally let them in, and I tag along behind. The result is I get a seat with (up to a point) excellent views of what is going on.

They close the border and take down their respective flags each night at sunset, with much marching up and down with arms swinging and knees high and stamping of boots, each side doing their best to out-glare the other fellows. It's quite amusing to watch, and the crowd on the Pakistan side is just as partisan as the Indians, who are led by a sort of master of ceremonies in a chant of 'Hindustan, Hindustan, Hindustan....' etc, etc, and then the other side starts up 'Pakistan, Pakistan ... etc. In fact it was a bit like a Collingwood-Richmond semi-final, and all good fun.

I hurry back to the vehicle, as I really don't want to get left out in the bush an hour and a half's drive from my hotel, and get there a good ten minutes before anyone else. We drive back in darkness, and I supposedly get dropped near the railway station, but soon realise I haven't a clue where I am, and get a ride back with the first bicycle-rickshaw man who has heard of 'Tourist Hotel'.