End the obscenity called Wagah-Attari parade. Right-wing, liberals, retd officers—all agree

The Print

27-05-2025

This unlikely unity stems from a ceremony whose relevance has long been questioned. The right-wing bristles at the equivalence with Pakistan. As Rahul Shivshankar of Times Now , thundering from a comfortable studio, let us know , Operation Sindoor had already been chalked up as a resounding victory in the annals of India's history. The operation had 'exposed the true face of Pakistan's military: a morally dissolute, bumbling band of brigands that cowered behind a civilian shield. And when they mustered enough courage to retaliate, they did so by targeting unarmed civilians in India.' To even attempt an equivalence between the two countries' militaries, he suggested, would be 'an act of criminal dereliction.'
The ceremony was suspended following the Pahalgam attack that killed 26 people, as India implemented broader retaliation against Pakistan. But a few days ago, the BSF resumed a 'scaled down' version of the spectacle. This time, the traditional handshakes with Pakistani Rangers were eliminated, and the border gates remained firmly shut. What's left is a truncated shadow of the original circus, with reduced crowds and muted fanfare. Now critics—across the political spectrum—are demanding permanent abolition, arguing that even this scaled-down version normalises relations with Pakistan too quickly after a terror attack that claimed Indian lives.
A miracle has emerged from the haze left behind by India and Pakistan's recent brush with war: the Indian right-wing and liberals have finally found something they can agree on. It's not about our divergent opinions on the government or caste—let's not get ahead of ourselves. Instead, this rare moment of political communion is centred on the absurd Attari-Wagah border ceremony. Both camps agree that the parade should be scrapped.
I'm not certain if dereliction applies to regular Indian citizens, but Shivshankar sums up the right-wing response: they see no dignity in matching Pakistan's theatrical aggression lunge for lunge, moustache-twirl for moustache-twirl. For them, India's strength shouldn't require daily validation through synchronised yodels and chest-thumping—certainly not with our bête noire.
This is broadly where the liberal view also lands. In addition to the indignity, they watch thousands of spectators erupt in jingoistic fervour at the function. They see citizens being fed a daily dose of performative hatred disguised as patriotism. Almost a decade ago, Sushant Singh, a military affairs expert, had argued for the ceremony to be cancelled because it promotes anti-Pakistan sentiment among regular people. 'It makes no sense,' Singh said in an interview. 'You could have film actors doing it.'
Also read: What Attari-Wagah border looked like today—children split from parents, patients straight from hospital
Everyone is on the same page
Both factions arrive at the same devastating conclusion: it is painful to watch our professional soldiers—who undergo gruelling training for years to actually defend the nation—reduced to peacocking in the extreme. When ideological opposites unite in calling something an embarrassment to the armed forces, you know the lines of decency have been crossed. The Attari-Wagah ceremony once served a purpose, but now it only leads to bipartisan shame. A new Change.org petition has called for it to be completely scrapped.
A small illustration of this is how comically the international media views the ceremony. The Guardian once labelled it 'a cross between circus ringmasters and John Cleese in Monty Python's ministry of silly walks.' The New York Times wrote about it in an article headlined 'Peacocks at Sunset.' Even the popular TV show It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia caricatured the ceremony in an episode.
But the most damning indictment comes from those who've actually worn the uniform. Lieutenant General Kanwal Jeet Singh Dhillon (retired) didn't mince words when he said, 'This 'nautanki' must stop. This is not a military parade. Beating the Retreat is a very solemn ceremony. Let's not call this drama the Beating Retreat.' Colonel Dr Anil Athale (retired) was even sharper 15 years ago, writing that those with armed forces backgrounds were 'aghast at the goose-stepping, aggressive staring match' and warned that 'by participating in this mindless display of 'jingoism' (not confident nationalism), we Indians descend to the level of Pakistan.'
The colonel pointed out that a few years prior, 'the Chinese used to broadcast anti-India abuse in Hindi at Nathu La. But we never retaliated. Eventually, the Chinese stopped their mischief.' Earlier this year, when we were far from any murmurs of war, Colonel NN Bhatia (retd) called it 'hostile and vulgar, with troops twitching their moustaches on both ends… It's time we stop such theatrical, aggressive, and fruitless ceremonies and devote our meagre resources to optimising our security.'
A solemn Attari-Wagah ceremony?
It's now clear that the only argument for continuing the ceremony in its present form has little to do with military or strategic necessity. Instead, it's driven by a need to sustain the tourist economy that it supports. Local businesses thrive at the border, where vendors hawk trinkets and offer to paint your face in the colours of the national flag. Loud Bollywood music pervades the bleachers; visitors cheer and clap back with chants of their own. And the tragic essence of the border—the heartbreak it represents for millions of Indian families—is lost in the obscenity.
A 40-minute drive from Attari lies the haunting Partition Museum in Amritsar, a modern space that also feels like a time capsule. It holds the weight of one of the cruellest chapters in India's history, with appropriate gravity. There are artefacts and testimonies of trauma, and you encounter them in silence. Grief reverberates through the museum, and I remember exiting it, surrounded by tearful faces. The museum understands that some wounds require reverence, not a carnival.
Why have we not found a way to bring that solemnity to the Attari-Wagah ceremony? Not because Pakistan forces our hand to do it, but because our own history does.
Journalist and author Man Aman Singh Chhina has written about visiting the grave of Company Quartermaster Havildar Abdul Hamid, who earned the Param Vir Chakra in the battle of Asal Uttar during the 1965 India-Pakistan war. Hamid disabled four Pakistani Patton tanks from near-point blank range but was eventually shot by a nearby tank. 'Why can't the Punjab Govt promote Asal Uttar as a tourist destination?' Chhina asks. Our military history is filled with similar acts of sacrifice. And that's the kind of remembrance this sacred ground should inspire, not synchronised goose-stepping.
The Attari-Wagah ceremony has outlived any purpose it once served. The border that witnessed the 'ujaada'—displacement—history's greatest human tragedy, deserves better than this theatrical degradation. Some spectacles are just too undignified to survive, even if they are part of tradition.
Karanjeet Kaur is a journalist, former editor of Arré, and a partner at TWO Design. She tweets @Kaju_Katri. Views are personal.
(Edited by Prashant)