I stay up in my dreams throughout the night
Hopelessly striving with all might
To add a shape or maybe a face
Just a bit of colour,just a trace?
I walk barefoot on the dewy lawn
Feeling the cool breeze at dawn
The grass is green they say
And red turns the sky at this time of the day
I nod my head as I fondle a flower
Soft & fragrant in the early morning shower
And suppress a sigh when I hear them claim
“But you make a far prettier dame”
When I’m home I walk upto the looking-glass
Jealousy surfacing again,but I let it pass
For in some hours I’ll bid the bandages goodbye
And tomorrow I’ll stand here to look me in the eye!
This post was the runner up at the .SSC-II contest
Only on national holidays-the Independence Day & Republic Day common citizens of India are allowed to have the tricolour on their vehicles, buildings & maybe for a while on their minds. For on other ‘normal’ days, the fate of that tricolour is the least of their worries. I’m no exception. I was cribbing more about the loss of a holiday (Aug15 falls on a Sunday this year) than worrying about India! So when I came across BlogAdda’s recent topic-“Mera Bharat Mahan” (sponsored by Pringoo) I sat thinking, is my country my pride? Is my country great? I procrastinated & today finally decided to pen down my humble opinion.
Of course I’m proud of my country. If there’s one thing we Indians are never shy of flaunting, it’s our patriotic fervor amply displayed in all Bollywood flicks no matter what the storyline or who the producer is. I’d rather not risk some moral police cutting off my fingers for stating otherwise. But the pride is surreal. It’s just the moral duty as the citizen of a nation to feel proud & call your nation great.
When I was in school, the pride I felt for being an Indian usually displayed itself when some Chief Guest would unfurl the national flag and when the national anthem would play sending little shivers down my skin. But I must accept with due shame, that the pride was nowhere to be seen when the celebrations were over & I trampled back home walking on the little tricoloured flags littering the school ground. That is the state of India. Citizens walk all over it, her traditions, her culture & her pride.
As kids we used to play a game, with 2 players throwing a ball to each other & a player in the middle trying his best to grab the ball before it reaches the other’s hand. That’s the exactly how the economic resources, government aid & almost all other essentials are denied to the man in the middle-the common man. And no prizes for guessing who the other 2 players are.
If a popularity survey would be done, the words-corruption, poverty & crime-rate would finish in that order. For everyone seems to have a favorite when it comes to blaming the state of affairs here. You would ‘donate’ lavishly to the ‘international’ school where your kid is getting admitted & yet berate the corrupted system. You will give the job in your office to your wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law & then shake your head morosely at the poverty rate in India. You will add more water to milk & pebbles in the rice you sell but if your house gets burgled, crime-rate is high, isn’t it?
I’m not here to recite impressive statistics & share media-flared incidents of the shameful functioning of Indian government and the apathy of her citizens.
I am merely wondering who caged the Golden bird that our ancestors had set free? Who is responsible behind the invisible borders drawn all over India, classifying, categorizing & grading her citizens? Who the hell is making my country a laughing stock world-wide?
Oh, well of course it’s me!
I, good-for-nothing citizen of India, am responsible for this.
I have a voice & I use it well-for blaming the government, for raising slogans, for decrying everything in my line-of-sight that doesn’t bother me directly. And of course, I use it well, for buttering government officials & for smothering my subordinates.
I use my sight- exclusively for things that give me pleasure-the latest fashion, the neighbour’s daughter, the new TV next door couple has got.
I hear well-the latest gossip, the neigbour’s fights & heavy metal music.
I treat India the way your tenant treats your house-stay there, use all resources & if anything needs repairs call the owner (i.e. the government).
Lastly I’d speak about the prejudice carried by Indians. Their inferiority complex & their awe of all things ‘English’.
Our fascination for the tag of ‘foreign’ needs to be curbed. Foreign education, foreign job, NRI groom & foreign products. Brain drain can be stopped if you just shorten your horizons & stay put in India, giving back little of what you have learnt. Do you think the foreign companies would throw all their calls to India if we hadn’t been so utterly jobless? If India had enough entrepreneurs –the IIT/IIM grads, wouldn’t there be enough jobs here itself? If you went for Indian brands & not run crazy after the big names of foreign countries, wouldn’t Indian economy prosper? Why can’t we raise India to that height where others would look upto us?
It’s time we treated India as our home, our motherland & not some God-damned rented house!
P.S : This post is also an entry for Blogeshwar 2.0
I comfortably fit into the role of the hapless Pandavas, while my younger sister is the perfect embodiment of the evil & conniving Kauravas. Mom dear, sides with the Kaurava avatar thus fulfilling her role as the great Bhishma.
Not having ample land, dynasties etc to call our own, we sisters see blood over mundane stuff in everyday life. A look at stuff we tear clothes over:-
- Who gets to sit before the computer
- Who finishes the packet of goodies that Mom’s got
- Who scores the maximum no. of attacks against the other while perfectly avoiding Mom
The short generalized list encompasses in itself a host of sub categories that widen the range of everyday battles. But a fully fledged war ensues whenever the computer is at stake.
The PC plays the role of Draupadi in our story. She is the victim of torture & humiliation at the hands of the cunning Kaurava. She is the one traded & changes hands after every battle is fought. Just like Draupadi had no say, the PC too is the mute sufferer of the war.
And what a war it is! We make do with our body parts not having any access to magical weapons. (I doubt even if we had, I’d never be able to string a bow).
Being girls we have extra weapons too-namely nails & tears. The one who cries first & loudest wins the war. It’s the ultimate Sudarshan Chakra.
Launched to kill & incapacitate the other, this weapon is only used in dire emergency case. Like when the opponent has let out a blood thirsty yell pure murder or when you start bleeding bad. And then appears the great Bhishma to intervene & punish the guilty. My sister’s amazing capacity to produce salty tears & pull up a perfectly pathetic sorry face always enables her to trot off scot-free. And I the stoic Pandava save my tears for the privacy of my bedroom.
So my advice to would-be parents-avoid wars under your roof. Promote peace & go for ‘We 2 Ours 1’ formula. Better still have none.
India really needs to stop reproducing unproductive byproducts that are just an excuse of a human being.
And if your primal instincts prevent you from adhering to such high principles, at least have the grace to keep one hidden from the other. And God help you if you end up having more than 2!!!