Independence Day always brings back childhood memories of the FORCED march past parades at school. All of us kids were made to line-up a month in advance (house-wise: I was in Cariappa "Yellow" House)and made to march (Left-Right-Left) for the D-Day, all of which used to eventually take place in the HOT SUN in the afternoon. We would hide in the loos or get fake medical certificates to escape the torture but there was no respite. The experienced teachers would search the loos and spot out the fakes. The punishment for delinquent students was an extra hour of Marching practice.
On the I-Day, after the parade, the flag would be hoisted and all of us would be sent home with some snacks or some such thing. It never made any sense to me and I was a most reluctant participant and attendee. To force patriotism is like praying because your parents say one should pray. There is no individual choice in the matter. Ironic isn’t it, that one is forced to do something like this on Independence Day?
How is one supposed to develop a sense of patriotism when all you are told about freedom and independence are read in textbooks with such monotony that they might have never happened or happened in a past so far removed from us that it no longer matters?
Independence made much more sense to me when I heard my grandpa talk to me about running on the streets with India's flag when they heard about the withdrawal of the British. Independence matters more to me when I hear of the blackouts that my mother's family used to have in the early 70's and the food packets my paternal grandma prepared with her friends and distributed to the soldiers whose trains crossed our hometown during the war with Pak. And of course the war stories my dad regaled us with, in his typical fauji style, with loud sound-effects and full-action. I felt so proud to be my dad's daughter and how he serves country with honor.
Here's wishing New India on her 59th birthday a very bright and prosperous future...
Miles to go, hurdles to cross,
May she survive all her lows!!
Vande Mataram! Jai Hind!!
On the I-Day, after the parade, the flag would be hoisted and all of us would be sent home with some snacks or some such thing. It never made any sense to me and I was a most reluctant participant and attendee. To force patriotism is like praying because your parents say one should pray. There is no individual choice in the matter. Ironic isn’t it, that one is forced to do something like this on Independence Day?
How is one supposed to develop a sense of patriotism when all you are told about freedom and independence are read in textbooks with such monotony that they might have never happened or happened in a past so far removed from us that it no longer matters?
Independence made much more sense to me when I heard my grandpa talk to me about running on the streets with India's flag when they heard about the withdrawal of the British. Independence matters more to me when I hear of the blackouts that my mother's family used to have in the early 70's and the food packets my paternal grandma prepared with her friends and distributed to the soldiers whose trains crossed our hometown during the war with Pak. And of course the war stories my dad regaled us with, in his typical fauji style, with loud sound-effects and full-action. I felt so proud to be my dad's daughter and how he serves country with honor.
Here's wishing New India on her 59th birthday a very bright and prosperous future...
Miles to go, hurdles to cross,
May she survive all her lows!!
Vande Mataram! Jai Hind!!
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