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17 Aug 2015

Reveries #1

Dear Diary,

The Indian Independence Day came. And went.

Now the mini-tricolors that everyone so proudly sported on the lapels and pockets are being ground into the dust under the heels of a vast majority of my countrymen. All that shor sharaba that happened on Saturday, did it serve a purpose other than scaring the living daylights out of my cats? I wonder.

What truly scares me is that, I, the once-proud citizen, who pointedly stood up anywhere upon hearing the anthem, who saved as many mini-tricolors from under everyone’s feet as I could, who defended my country to all the skeptics and haters, feel no pride in my country anymore. I am, rather, ashamed to call myself an Indian, today. What with having to pay taxes through my nose for public services I’m not getting, living in a system that is ridden with corruption from ground up, meeting people who still think it is okay for the girl to be hurt (because she invited trouble, didn’t she), and witnessing the epic failure of a judicial system that was crafted to be the best in the world.

I also question the point of our brave soldiers who are defending the country. Are they putting their precious lives at the altar of a country that does not deserve it? Or are we just tearing families apart on a whim, the whim of a nation that is long past its glory days with little, if any, hope of reclaiming it?

Today, I cringe to say I’m Indian. I cringe to think of the life I’m handing down to the next generation. And I feel bad. I feel bad about giving up on the nation that has fed me for 25 years now. I feel worse when I see the Americans celebrating the 4th of July with commendable patriotism.

The lack of pride has led me to another question:
If not an Indian, what is my identity, then?

A world citizen?
Am I brave enough to take on that huge a responsibility?