I watched the 66th Indian Republic Day parade.
Live. On good ol’ DD via internet. We haven’t done this in all these years and
somehow decided to watch it yesterday as a family activity. More for Modi than
for the Obamas. And more for our kid than for ourselves. (We’re awesome
parents.) I tried to explain what DD was in response to my son’s query. How doordarshan was our one (and only) window for everything that was happening around the
country and beyond. Sports, drama, news, agriculture, cartoons and national
integration. If regional kendras delinking for national programming at the
stroke of 9:00pm doesn’t promote unity across the land, I don’t know what will.
In the spirit of full disclosure, Republic and Independence
days have meant very little to me besides the holiday as a student and a young
adult in India. A cool day off with nothing expected of me. More joy if they
fell either on a Monday or a Friday. But this time it felt different. Is it
age? The distance/separation? Nostalgia? Or explaining things to my kid who would
be further removed from the significance of these ceremonies as he grows older?
There was a lump in my throat when the two-minute silence
was observed. The helmet hung over the gun against the burning fire. The
significance of the lives lost in remote outposts so that I may, without fear, freely continue
to lead my life of indifference, cocooned in the safety so taken for granted. It
struck me this time. So many faces without a name. And so many names without a face.
Coffins draped in the national colors. And the futility of it all. When the
wife of Major Mukund Varadarajan collected the Ashoka Chakra from President Pranab M,
it made me uneasy. I could hardly follow the valor of Mukund that was being
described in Hindi. But I know there was a man – a son, a husband, a father, a brother - that
had performed acts of extreme bravery in the face of danger to his life. His
wife picking up a medal for his valor under grey skies on a cold morning with a
light drizzle made me positively uneasy. I’m sure she would have happily traded the medal
for her husband to be back with her. With the kind of neighbors around us,
there will be no dearth for such acts of valor (and unnecessary fatalities) year after year. Borders like the
ones in Europe shall remain a pipe dream in Asia.
After having watched the 2+ hour program, I would propose to
do away with the whole Republic Day parade such as it is. It has its moments
but on the whole, it seems a massive waste of people’s time and efforts. Recognizing
military valor and awarding bravery, are required, I understand. But the whole
show - parade, rumbling tanks, garish floats – just seems long, meandering and
more symbolic and less meaningful. And
there is a strong colonial flavor over much of the proceedings: slow moving
motorcades, grand uniforms and soldiers on horses – a hat doff to the erstwhile
Raj. What do we want to convey? And to who? I get the feeling that we may still
be trying to prove something to our erstwhile rulers and our neighbors. And my point being, we
don’t have to.
Instilling a sense of national pride in the average citizen
is a noble idea. If not for anything else, at least to stop thirty-somethings
from making blog posts like this one. But I’m sure we can find better ways to
utilize the money, resources and time that should go into making this event
happen year after year. Personal wish: that Modi is the last Indian Prime
Minister that prefers the close coat over a suit.
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Rest in peace R K Laxman. On his passing away, I have read
a few articles throwing light on the artist behind the iconic common man. A true legend.
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