It all started with the Pakistan Cricket Board opening up the sale of a limited number of tickets for the one-day cricket matches between India and Pakistan in March, 2004.
The moment we saw that news report, my wife Ipsita and I knew we had to do this. This was not just an opportunity to witness one of sport’s greatest rivalries, it was a chance to go to Pakistan — the place we Indians talk and read so much about, and often, despise so much.
Tickets were promptly purchased on the internet, and visa forms filled up. There is no Pakistan consulate in Hyderabad, so we made a trip to Delhi and stood at 4am in a queue of hopefuls outside the Pakistan High Commission in Chanakyapuri.
There were some like us, standing for a visa for the cricket match. Most others, and that number was in several hundreds, were people who had relatives in Pakistan and had been trying for many many months to get a visa — most of the time, unsuccessfully.
“Deposit your passport, we will inform you when your visa is granted,” said the helpful man at the counter, which I reached after about five hours in the queue.
We returned to Hyderabad and were informed a week later that the visa had come through. We were two of about 2,000 Indians who would get to go to Pakistan for the one-day cricket matches.
I have had many visas on my passport — tourist visa, business visa, visit visa. This one was unique; it read: “Cricket Visa”.
It specified Lahore only. My match tickets were only for the Lahore matches and the visa forbade me from going any place else.
Importantly, it also specified: “Exempt from police reporting”, which is otherwise a daily requirement for Indians visiting Pakistan.
The next step was visiting The Hospitality Club, one of my favourite websites which provides a platform for members to homestay as a guest at someone's home.
I had hosted and been been hosted at many places around the world — but Pakistan was an entirely different place, at least in my mind.
Was it too risky, to search for random people in Lahore and ask them for a place to stay?
I took a leap of faith and narrowed the search on the website down to Lahore and wrote to the top host in Lahore, telling him of my trip and asking whether we could stay with him for the week.
Promptly, my inbox had a response: “You are welcome.”
The Delhi-Lahore bus left from the Ambedkar Terminal in Delhi. The bus departure time was 6am. We were there at 3.30am and noticed a large queue of people already present.
There were an even larger number of people there to see the passengers off, easily in a 3:1 ratio. These people were not allowed in, and stood outside the large, iron gates of the entrance.
The passengers were a mix of Indians, Pakistanis and other nationalities.
There were about 20-odd cricket fans (mostly from Delhi, a few from Panipat and the two of us from Hyderabad), a woman and her four kids from Karachi, a man from Lahore returning from Jaipur after getting the 'Jaipur foot' (a rubber-based prosthetic leg) fitted, a mother-daughter duo from Islamabad, a Dutch lady traveling from India to Pakistan, two armed security escorts, and a liaison officer from Pakistan Tourism Development Corporation (PTDC).
The security checks were more stringent than any I have experienced anywhere in the world.
The people from Pakistan said their goodbyes to relatives who were waving from outside the iron gates of the terminus. The bus started off at 6am Indian time.