“ Saare jahan se achcha Hindustan hamara” …The syllables had floated into his room through the open window. His eyes opened in a start to check his mobile for the time. He was about to leave the bed in a haste to get ready for the college when suddenly he remembered ….today was 15th of August….The Independence Day. Today was the national holiday. He thanked God…took out a Marlboro from the packet that had only two to offer….lit it n moved towards the balcony. The sun stared helplessly at him as a black thick cloud began to vanquish it….His shadow on the balcony wall began to fade n soon the sun was surrendered into submission..
He leaned on the balcony railing,inhaled a long puff n enjoyed the spirit of patriotism that was beginning to overpower him…This happened only twice a year for him. He wondered if all his countrymen underwent the same pump of adrenaline when they saw the tricolor wave in the sky n the melodious notes of songs floating about. He remembered the school and college days when he used to participate in the parade. He remembered the emotions that would stir up when he would stand in parade, with his chest broadened to the tunes of the National Anthem. He wished he had been in the army.
This was his first Independence Day in delhi. He had joined an ambitious business project called Soil, just a month ago. He had looked forward to his stay in delhi, the city famous for its glamorous and bubbly crowd. Yesterday evening he had been to cannaught place, one of the most happening places of delhi bustling with young college crowd….So he ,coming from a not so modern and young city of Jharkhand had high hopes to get to know how the so called metropolitan youth of India behaved…He could not fail to admire the young and beautiful faces[;)] , but somehow he felt uncomfortable in this environment. The way boys n girls dressed ,talked and moved about….Something worried him. .This was what he had gone there for….to steal a few glimpses of beautiful girls placed cosily in their boyfreinds’ arms…to stare at some pretty faces….But when he actually got to see …he was offered with more than what he had expected…He had seen girls smoking and boozing with utmost ease that would have put the dreaded dopers of his college to shame…Feminists who believed in equality can advocate that if society can accept a man smoking then why not a girl…He had no answer to it….This line of opinion was indeed genuine and justified…But he somehow got the feeling that the actions of the youth of India can be described more as aping the so called developed and modern societies rather than moving towards the real liberalisation and modernization….We have overlooked the social structure that India has and blindly aped the living style of the West…without even thinking if our society is prepared for the change.
This aping psyche has long been the trait of Indians…We have always been awed by the prosperity that developed nations boast of….Indians have always been fascinated with anything foreign and imported…be it a car, a perfume or even a t shirt….This psyche has not spared even the brightest minds of India…He recalled how many friends of his college and other good ones had only one motive throughout their studies…to flee this land which gives you nothing but a meager salary n lots of frustration to deal with… He remembered how vehemently they would voice and defend their opinion…Their favorite point of offence would be at the way politics operates in India…The way corruption has made inroads into every facet of the beauracracy…He had never come across a youth who had the ambition to join politics..Even if he had it was for other obvious reasons, not for the cause of the country….He remembered how he used to be a silent listener to these strong lines of defence that his friends had built by letting open a fierce attack on virtually everything that India had under the sun.
He strongly believed that culture is a very relative term. What the Indians may consider as obscene and indecent might be a casual way of life in the West..So he never indulged in the braggadocio that his friends would carry out about the Indian culture being the best in the world…etc etc…He only believed that the culture which has evolved over years could not be and need not be changed just because we want to be standing in the line of developed nations and so we need to do what people over there do. The best way out would be to zero in on the flaws of our traditions and work towards their eradication , so that we as a nation can create our own identity. That is what he wanted to see the Indian youth doing.
That day when he had returned back from cannaught place he lay down on his bed…eyes fixed on the ceiling fan which monotonously stared at him and he thought…for the first time…he thought about his life..about his ambition….about his country. He could have very easily blamed the politicians of India for leading the country into deep pits as most people had been doing. But then the bunch of politicians represent the choice that people of India have. If they enjoy so much popularity that they can win elections year after year then it is the people of India who are to be blamed…The mentality needs to change…That was a major flaw in the society and he wanted the youth to come forward to take on this menace, to present before the people an alternative that they cannot afford to refuse. So he would join politics.
Seconds later his determination was beginning to shake…Politics today was not an easy job…he realized that…one can easily lose his life in an attempt towards the catharsis of this vast marsh that has set in on Indian society…Scenes of his wailing mother, his silent father, his grieved family and friends flashed before his eyes…He turned his eyes away from the ceiling in terror…He was afraid of death…He could not gift his family sorrow of a lifetime…he was in a deep fix…he closed his eyes for some respite and had fallen asleep.
Suddenly his hands had started to feel a burning sensation and he looked down to realize that the Marlboro had been incensed to the butt and was about to do same to his fingers…he hurriedly dropped the butt , it sailed in the wind and after a few moments rested on the wet grass. The flame slowly began diminishing and finally the cold droplets of water had conquered it leaving out smoke…He had been watching this trivial event from above..and suddenly……something struck him…..A single flame cannot ignite the rain draped grass but the vice versa had been made possible…the flame was put off….He looked above at the sun…it was beginning to come out from the dark thick cloud …soon the grass would dry up in the sun and be ready to be ignited (definitely not by a cigarette butt)…..He wondered what would come to his rescue to ignite his countrymen’s minds draped with hackneyed mentality…He thought what could be the sun of his life….Money….may be ….for that he will have to wait….He shall wait.
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