There is a thin line of difference between dreams and reality. You become aware of its existence only while you are awake. Once your eyes close, the line gradually dissipates.
As I opened my eyes to the deafening roar of thousands of people around me, I could see two gates of hard metal parallel to each other being pulled apart by two persons on each side. The show had well and truly begun. I was spellbound by the sheer magnanimity of the proceedings before me.
It was at Shahi Qila on the Attari – Wagah border that I, with a few friends from office, had the fortune to witness Indian and Pakistani soldiers put up a show of strength that would make all attendees feel a surge of pride and patriotism.
A few minutes ago, we had watched with excitement as scores of Indian civilian women had carried the tricolor close to the border followed up by a dance sequence, reflecting well and truly the free spirit and enthusiasm of our country. All this while, a BSF jawaan encouraged the entire crowd to cheer for the women. On the other hand, we saw an amputee from Pakistan proudly hold the Pakistani flag aloft and spin around in circles, displaying tremendous mental and physical strength.
Indian women carrying the Indian tricolor to the border 
BSF Jawaan encouraging the audience to cheer for Indian civilian women and the armed forces
However, once the gates were opened, the show was down to the soldiers who would proceed to approach the border and hold their arms aloft in a display of courage, valor and strength. However impressive the show was, I could not help but have my attention drawn to something I noticed only during our exit.
Full view of the stadium from the Indian side 
The fence separating India from Pakistan
As we could see Pakistan from where we were seated, it was apparent that their roads were as clean as ours.
The lush greenery on their side was of the same shade as it was on the Indian side.
The people shared the same level of excitement on both sides.
The looks, the attire and the behavioral traits of the people seemed extremely similar.
And yet, everyone was divided into two separate units.
And the dividers were the gates.
And as we realized later, a fence.
The purpose of art and the intention of an artist is to bring people together in appreciating art, whether by showering lavish praise or offering constructive criticism. The entire basis of fine arts such as drawing and painting is the various strokes including at its inception, a line. And as realization dawned, the fence dividing the crowd gathered at the border was nothing but a line. A simple line drawn by Sir Cyril Radcliffe on the world map more than 70 years ago that made me an Indian and someone just a few meters away from me a Pakistani, a person from an entirely different nation.
There is a thin line of difference between dreams and reality. Normally, the line is inconsequential. But when it is drawn by a man who’s not an artist but an aristocrat and when it results in the division of an entire nation and a state of insurgency for years to come, you fervently wish for the line to disappear in reality.
As the gates on the Attari – Wagah border were shut, I couldn’t help but close my eyes for a moment. I couldn’t help but feel a slight pain in my chest. Not just me but 1 in every 6 people in the world would want the gates to be opened forever.
For a single nation to be formed.
For the people of the combined nation to have a feeling of togetherness and live in an atmosphere of peace.
For the line to be erased forever.
That it probably never will be hurts.
The history of Partition and the aftershocks thereof hurt.
That soldiers on both sides have to leave their families behind and be constantly ready to go to war with each other despite their ancestors being siblings like Pandavas and Kauravas hurts.
That the dream of Akhand Bharat would never achieve fruition hurts.
Words on a canvas 