Celebratory ritual endures years of violence

But check out a sunset at the Wagah Border -- the only border crossing between these nations -- and you'd think they had nothing more dire on their minds than a spirited cricket rivalry.

The Wagah Border, located west of the Indian city of Amritsar and east of the Pakistani city of Lahore, is the site of a nightly flag-lowering ceremony that marks the closing of the gate between the two countries until it reopens the following morning.

On a recent evening, thousands of people flocked to the India side of the border an hour before the ceremony was to start. Vendors peddled popcorn, chips and soda to the gathering masses while young boys hawked hand-held flags with the words "I Love My India" on them.

Tourists from all over India travel to Wagah to see this pomp-due-to-circumstance -- 5,000 on an average night and up to 12,000 on holidays. A few foreigners usually show up, too. The event has become so popular on both sides of the border that India and Pakistan have built stadium seating to hold the masses.

On this particular evening, Bollywood hits blared from loudspeakers as Indian fans, most of them Hindus and Sikhs, filled every seat in the stands. Groups of young men and women shimmied to the music in gleeful anticipation of the showdown. Others waved giant Indian flags or pumped their fists triumphantly in the direction of the Pakistani crowd. Stern-faced border guards blew whistles and shouted at the revelers in an attempt to keep the merriment in check.

On the Pakistan side the mostly Muslim audience was more subdued. Women sat demurely on one side of the bleachers and men sat on the other. Nobody danced. They did, however, engage in plenty of reciprocal fist-pumping and flag-waving.

At 6 p.m. the show was on. Immaculately uniformed guards took turns marching. First the Pakistani Rangers. Then the Indian Border Security Force. Each guard marched quickly toward the gate, stopped, then kicked one leg high into the air. He then stomped the ground hard and glowered at his counterparts across the border.

The crowds went wild. "Long live India!" "Long live Pakistan!" There was a brief handshake between opposing forces. More cheering.

Then guards lowered their respective country's flags. The Pakistanis appeared to purposely lag behind, making sure their flag was the last to come down, thus scoring some sort of psychological point for their country. A few Indians would grumble about this later.

At last, the gates were slammed shut for the night.

Sumer Singh, manager of Hotel Airlines in Amritsar, said this border ceremony has grown increasingly popular in recent years.

"Before five years ago nobody came," he said.

"Things not so good with Pakistan," said Raju, a young man who studies computers in Amritsar, trying to explain the growing appeal. He's lost count of how many times he's traveled the half-hour to the border to watch the big event.

Wagah sits not so far from where a decades-old and exceptionally ugly war is taking place over the border region of Kashmir.

And although the evening's showdown was, for the most part, infused with a celebratory vibe, the rancor that divides these well-armed nations occasionally bubbled up.

"The people in Pakistan, all they care about is making more population and terrorism," said Hari, a young man who, after the ceremony, pushed his way toward the gate to get a look at the enemy.

Raju shrugged off such ill will. "I come here because it's fun."

Former P-I reporter Winda Benedetti traded her Seattle job and Fremont apartment for a backpack, a passport and a ticket around the world. See www.seattlepi.com/specials/goaway to read her reports from the road.