Every year, on the 15th of August , flags
are hoisted with the same gusto, trumpets blown with the same precision and
marches led with the same fervour in every city of India, as they were in 1947.
Everything, right from badges pinned on t-shirts to painted faces to flags at
every nook and corner saluted the three worthy colours. It's been five months since half the country took a 'well earned' Monday off and put their feet up
while the other half paid a 'truly deserving' tribute to those who fought for
the India that is today.
Yet, the badges linger in car dashboards waiting for next year, the painted
faces are still alive on every Facebook album and the flags continue to flutter
in the same manner, undisturbed. I couldn't help but notice one particular
group of tricolour flags, babbling away to each other every morning as I passed
them. There they flutter at K.R. Puram station, their plastic bodies glistening
in the dusty morning sun...well above the several hundred commuters and several
hundred vehicles whizzing past.
While the famous K.R. Puram bottleneck is
witness to the ten precious minutes I killed in the jam, the flags had already
filtered out the tourists from the future gang leaders that the daily mail had
brought in. They sorted out the Breaking News from the scandal of the day. They
even managed to tease the birds flying by while sniggering at the struggling
pedestrians, all at the same time.
While I was busy trying to crack their code,
I was silently wishing I was in their place. And hardly had that thought
translated into a frustrated honk when a big nagging crow blessed them. And
then sat a few feet away, right on their heads.
They didn't seem to mind...took
it in their stride. The same principle that three fourths of the country is
raised on. Traffic starting easing out. I had to take leave of my new muses for
the day.
And as I left them I made a mental calculation of how much longer it
would be before the rains would strip them to freedom, when some curious bird
would then suffocate in their warm hug and when they would finally land up
decorating the garbage trucks.
After about five more claim-to-fame,
game-changing rallies.
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