Sunday, August 15, 2010

63 years of Independence

So what are we to celebrate today eh?  The snail pace of Common Wealth Games preparation & the corruption involved in it or the slaying of the CRPF men or Lalit Modi's betting & laundering or the corrupt jokers in Bellary tonsuring their heads trying to cover their illegal mining deals or skyrocketing price of petrol?  I'm really confused if we've got anything to celebrate at all.

It'll be a day of parades and speeches and patriotic songs and "Happy Independence Day" SMSes and people claiming "We're yet to get the real freedom from poverty, corruption, pseudo-democracy et al."  And everything will fade into oblivion by tomorrow morning and mundane Monday activities will be resumed.  Ministers who shamelessly promise of progress today will get back to their corruption and opposition-party-bad-mouthing mode from tomorrow.   

I don't understand why people get paranoid about Independence day celebrations, hoisting the flag, reciting national anthem, distributing the sweets, boring harangues about progress of the nation while we're not really progressing.  Yeah maybe it's a day to think back about the hardships the country and her people have undergone for getting the freedom from Bristish  Raj, but then that's just not enough.  What about the present?  What about the future?  63 years is too long a period for a country which boasts of 2000 years of civilization and culture, to be in such state of affairs.  It's a lot easier said than done, I agree with it, but are we doing anything at all?
 
Freedom from fear is the freedom
I claim for you my motherland!
Freedom from the burden of the ages, bending your head,
breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning
call of the future;
Freedom from the shackles of slumber wherewith
you fasten yourself in night's stillness,
mistrusting the star that speaks of truth's adventurous paths;
freedom from the anarchy of destiny
whole sails are weakly yielded to the blind uncertain winds,
and the helm to a hand ever rigid and cold as death.
Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet's world,
where movements are started through brainless wires,
repeated through mindless habits,
where figures wait with patience and obedience for the
master of show,
to be stirred into a mimicry of life.
                                                                                              -Rabindranath Tagore
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