In-dependence?

Well, this is an off beat stuff, I have no clues but I’m posting it cause I like it. There are hundred of things going in my mind. To believe, may bring doom and not to believe pains me every night. Do I want to be independent or I’m becoming in-dependant? Grammar, it kills me slowly. And Unsuccessfulness shares my bed. I don’t know, may be this sum it up – “He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me, scatters.”

Even the tiny trots know that this is not another, regular morning assembly. For, they have been witnesses to the countless rehearsals and today it is show time. Their parents, standing at one end of the ground, on which there are symmetrical lines drawn, are trying to identify their wards amongst similarly dressed students. Tricolours of all size and shape, is the only similarity within dissimilarity.


The young ones, who perhaps can boast of remembering one or two nursery rhymes seem lost yet excited. Running around, involved in playful games – a tricolour trying to catch another one. Those in their teens are mostly in-groups, some wear a disinterested look while others chattering away to glory. But they all have assembled – standing, pushing against each other and reluctantly trying to form a queue. For this was not another, regular morning assembly.


The three colours overshadow everything around – the brown school building, the blue sky and the looks on each face. Amidst chaos they finally manage to form a queue. It didn’t take long. They are used to it, a small head followed by a larger one. The length of the tricolour banner slinging across their shoulder also varies accordingly.


A drumbeat goads the animated crowd into silence. Each face has an anticipated look. The younger lot was struggling to communicate, while the elders who by now are more or less perfect with non-verbal communication are sharing smiles. They know what to expect as against the newly schooled; who break lines to catch a glimpse of what’s happening at the podium.


The podium is crowded like a railway station. A small group tethered by their music teacher who is trying to balance the harmonium. Two girls, perhaps in the final year of their school life, are dressed up in a tricolour saree. One is holding a tray and another managing the mike. Amongst is the principal, somehow managing to stand on his feet.


The girl holding the mike welcomes all and gives a brief description of what to expect ahead. A small skit by senior secondary students, a parade by all the houses, lead by the respective house captains, an aerobic show under the aegis of school’s physical trainer. The principle speech is after the flag hoisting ceremony, which would start the Independence Day celebrations.


She further announces that the tricolour would now be unfurled followed by national anthem. The men-in-waiting in the last row of the students assembled look expectantly toward the girls standing on the podium. To their dismay, the principle moves towards the pole on which flag is to be hoisted. The music teacher gives some directions to his troupe.


A string is pulled and music fills the atmosphere. Suddenly everything changes, a sense of responsibility dawns, which cuts across age and gender. The back gets straightened and the head rises, as if communicating with the sky. The song is about the great country, its land and people – the anthem of the nation. Each note, like an adrenaline rush. Surging a new found patriotism, which wasn’t there a few moments ago, which may not be present after this but for now….Jai hai, Jai hai, Jai hai.

How Unsuccessfull? I leave this for you to decide for I still stand my ground, though unsuccessfully……