Battle To The Border

*Authors Note: This story is based on true events. Its factual retelling can be found on my website, thewanderinghippy.com, under its release title Privy To Pakistan. At the time, most of the conversation was in Hindi and recounted to/translated for me later. Some of the dialogue here has been embellished or added to meet this week's prompt requirements and some artistic licence has been taken.

“We shouldn't be out here,” Vineet mumbled.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because he’s a coward,” Sandeep chuckled.

“No, I’m not a coward. We don’t have permits.”

“Buc, buc, bugawk!” Sandy cawed.

“Vinny,” I began. “Do you honestly believe we need a permit to stand in the middle of a desert and snap a few pics of our bikes? I mean, look around, brother. Sun, sand dunes, and, and… cactus! Beautiful, man! I think that’s a cactus. Is that a cactus?”

“Damned if I know,” Sandeep laughed. “Nice though, isn't it?”

“It’s not just a desert, it’s the Thar desert! The Pakistan border is less than twenty kilometres away! This, my friend, is a politically sensitive area. Don’t act like you don’t know that.”

“That’s okay. He’s sensitive. Aren't you, Sandeep?” I said, motioning at him.

“Very sensitive,” Sandy agreed with a nod. “Here, use my camera and snap one of me, my bike and the, err, cactus.”

“I don’t know why I ride with you,” Vineet grumbled.

“Because we are the only ones who tolerate you, bhai,” I retorted, while snapping a couple of pics of an ostentatiously posing Sandy. “Try not to look like a tourist.”

“Hmm. It’s getting hot,” Vinny said, eyeing the rising sun. “We should get moving if we want to reach Tanot before lunch.”

“It’s the border I’m interested in,” Sandy mumbled, reviewing the pictures I just took.

“Yep, me too. Hey, look at that,” I said curiously, pointing over Sandy's shoulder at a police van speeding down the road behind us.

“Not good,” my two riding partners chorused as the SUV slowed, then turned sharply off the road into the culvert.

“You think they’re coming over to us?” I asked, kicking at the deep sand under my riding boot.

“They ain't coming for a picnic,” Sandy said.

“Jesus,” I whispered as the dust from the locked brakes of the van swirled around us.

“Careful, Lee” Vineet cautioned as I walked towards the emerging officer, hand extended.

"“Namaste!” I called cheerily.

“What are you doing here?” the lead officer demanded, walking straight past me and addressing Vinny.

“Nothing, sir. We’re just tourists taking pictures.”

“Tourists? You look like bikers to me. This is a restricted military zone. Who is this foreigner?” the cop asked, stabbing his finger in my direction.

“Foreigner nahi, sir. He’s an Indian citizen,” Sandy quipped.

“Here, sir,” I said, digging for my OCI citizenship papers.

“You shouldn't be here!” the cop growled, ignoring my offered of documents.

“Why is that, sir?” Vinny asked.

“Are you stupid? It’s a restricted area, I told you!” he barked, as the four other uniforms behind him murmured in agreement. “Return to the road and go back to Jaisalmer immediately, or I shall arrest you.”

“For what?” Sandy barked, drawing the full ire of the police officer.

“On your bikes, and return to Jaisalmer. This is your final warning,” he growled, spun his back on us, and marched to the SUV with his support staff in tow.

***

“That went well,” Vineet’s voice crackled in my helmet communicator, dripping with sarcasm.

“Could have been worse,” I mumbled, focusing on navigating my motorcycle back up onto the highway, out of the sand.

“It’s an abuse of power,” Sandy chimed in. “No reason to turn us around other than Lee is a white guy.”

“Agreed,” Vineet said.

“Jo hai, wo hai,” I said, glad to be back on smooth pavement.

“It is what it is?” Sandy scoffed. We have every right to travel this road to Tanot!”

“We weren’t on the road, brother,” Vinny reminded him. “Let’s just go back to the hotel and regroup. I know you’re disappointed. We were all looking forward to the border.”

“It was supposed to be the highlight of this ride, Vinny,” I said. “Disappointed doesn't cover it. I’m pissed, man. I mean I am used to a little discrimination, okay? Comes with the territory, but this isn’t being overcharged in a taxi, or served last at a food counter. This is screwing with basic freedoms, brother.”

“Yes!” Sandy agreed. “Look, just ahead of me. There’s a family pulled off the road taking pictures, just like we were. I’m going to talk to them,” he decided aloud and abruptly pulled onto the shoulder. 

“He is fired up,” I said to Vinny after stopping my bike beside Sandy’s and pulling off my helmet.

“He is,” Vinny said, gesturing to Sandy’s animated conversation with the father in the group.

“They said that a police vehicle passed them fifteen minutes ago and didn't even look at them twice. Didn’t even slow down,” Sandy said as he trudged back to us. “Just like I said. They are screwing with us because we’re bikers and Lee’s white!”

“I suppose we could spin around and run for the border,” Vineet suggested. “They may pass through Tanot before we get there. It’s a risk, but, what do you think?”

I was surprised by my bravado laden voice as I answered, “Fuck the cops, they are only locals. It’s not like they are the army.”

“Yeah, fuck the cops,” Sandy said defiantly, swinging his leg over his bike.

***

“Another ten minutes,” Vineet’s voice whispered in my ear.

“We should be able to see Tanot over the next dune,” Sandy said, as his bike, twenty metres ahead of me, disappeared from view as it dipped below the crest in the highway.

“I bet they motored right through to Longewala,” I said.

“Oh shit! They’re here!” Sandy bellowed.

“What!?” I choked as I rode over the peak of the dune and saw the police SUV pulled over in the valley.

“Stop!” Vinny yelped.

“Too late, they’ve seen us,” Sandy said, as the officers began flagging us over.

“Sir, sir, sir,” Sandy’s voice echoed in my helmet as he stopped behind the SUV and the cops swarmed him.

“Stay cool,” Vineet said, as we pulled up behind them.

“Vinny, I don’t wanna go to jail, bro. I hate daal and rice,” I said, and yanked off my helmet.

“Please, sir,” Vineet soothed, as he dismounted and approached the group.

“Do you want to go to jail!?” the lead cop exploded, spying him. “I told you to return to Jaisalmer!”

“Sir, if I may,” Vineet said, hands outstretched and palms up.

“You may not!” the cop screamed and continued to baste us with a full three minutes of verbal abuse.

“We are simply tourists, sir, from Delhi. Just like many others here,” Vineet said during a lull and gesturing to a car passing us at this favourable moment, featuring out-of-state plates. “We just want to visit Tanot.”

“If I were to let you proceed, I guarantee I will see you within the hour when the Border Security Force asks for us to come pick you up and detain you for questioning,” he said directly to me.

“I humbly request sir, you allow BSF to make that call, and leave us free to continue,” Vineet said.

“Very well,” the cop said after a moment’s consideration. “But you will wait here for thirty minutes before you proceed. I have no desire to explain to the BSF how I managed to pass you on the highway and not stop you.”

“Of course, sir,” Vineet said, winking at me as the police entered their van, fired the engine and sped away.

***

“It’s amazing,” I whispered. “Truly one of the most terrifying places I’ve ever been. I love it!”

“You better love it, we fought like hell to get you here,” Sandy chuckled.

“It was worth it,” Vineet said, flopping his arm over my shoulders.

“The way you sweet-talked that BSF officer, Vinny. Poetry, brother. I mean, I can bullshit, but you, sir, are a master," I said, smiling.

“And you!” Sandy burst out. “I worked hard for my OCI, I’m a proud Indian, sir!”

“Oh man,” I sputtered, as we all roared.

“I honestly didn’t think we’d make it,” Vinny said, scuffing his boot on the pavement of the small check point parking area.

“You three, come,” the border soldier called us forward to stand under the sinister-looking guard tower.

“But we did make it,” I whispered, staring at the menacing razor wire of the border fence. “And now, I’m the only white man in history, not in a British uniform, to see this.”

“That is not true, brother.” Sandy chuckled.

“No, no, it’s not,” I breathed, as my eyes followed the stretch of fence and light standards to the very edge of the desolate horizon. “But right now, it sure feels that way.”