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Wearing those camouflage caps, while embracing the sense of patriotism that comes through one's mind, we both, me and my brother sat there on the window seat of the jeep with our father sitting next to us in the uniform. "Are you excited?" he asked. That very moment I realized that not everyone gets to spend a day of their lives on the borders of their country. I always had two versions of border in my mind since I was a child. One version which was developed by what the 'civilians' believe and propagate, a region with constant emergency, armed militia and no families. And the other one told by my father that reveals a region that is home to families and wildlife, with people dreaming their own dreams. We were travelling to Lathitilla (in Assam), one of the international borders between India and Bangladesh. After a beautiful long journey, we were finally reached the border post. My first sight was the long queue of uniformed soldiers which we call 'The Jawans', standing in an alert position, saluting as the jeep passed by. It was a small-sized bounded area with few rooms built and a main official building. On the extreme left was a shooting-range. Being there for the first time, my brother and I were already in the middle of a bet about how will the food be. Certainly, it was our natural instinct to presume the negative considering the surroundings. But believe it when I say, it was one of the best meals I had in days. I could feel all the hard work and warmth that they put into all of it. I couldn't help but notice the utmost discipline that was reflected by even the small tasks that they performed. Well, it's right when they say, 'Discipline is the soul of a soldier'. Later I lay there in the room thinking about how it's so easy for us to take this lifestyle for granted. At that moment all those antagonistic words that people have said in all these years about these armed forces, flooded my mind. In the evening, it was time for the usual border patrol. We were very excited to actually stand on the boundary of our country. "What are you expecting?" my father asked. "Do you think it will be--" "Dangerous?" I'd offered. All three of them laughed, my father and the two guards accompanying us in the car. And then I saw it. The fencing. The barrier between two nations, separating it's people. I saw the vast stretches of farms and the small 'kachcha houses' built near them. We stepped out of the car and stood there for a while. My chest kept expanding, trying to take in every last bit of the fresh air as it could. I could see across the fence, in the land called Bangladesh. Vast area covered with forest and farms. The wind blowing freshness into us and the verdant hills in its most refreshing state. We started patrolling along the fencing. It was quiet. Peaceful. After every few metres was a soldier, standing with a gun in hand and shouting 'Salaam Sahib' as our car passed by. Men and women walking by the sides of the road, carrying their harvest. A small group of children playing nearby, stopped to see the car as we reached there. Standing in front of us, these half-naked children were full of life. Then, we stopped at a checkpoint. It was a double floored tower built at the corner of a cliff. We stood on top of the tower. The sun was setting. The sky was full of colors. I let my eyes gaze upwards, enjoying the nothing that was everything. From the tower, I saw two countries, nothing but alike. I felt a sudden rush of emotions. I wondered how oblivious we were. No one ever bothers to know this world. The world where I was standing. Where these soldiers built their own family, living their dreams together, away from their homes. I never felt more alive as I felt at the moment. I knew I was taking something back from this place, a new perspective.