Sunday, Republic Day

Sunday morning. I woke up without an alarm and even though it was just half an hour later than usual I felt a sense of relaxation. No hurry to begin the day. No need to get through my glass of warm water and roll out my yoga mat. No ‘what should I make for breakfast’ thoughts. Nothing!

So I lazed in bed, soaking up the quiet, while the husband organised buttered buns for all of us (bun-maska in Puneri lingo or bun-makkhan in good old Lucknow).

A good day to get some writing done, I thought. Just as I was setting up my laptop the husband came up with, ‘What are we having for lunch? It’s Republic Day. Shall we have puris?’

When the children were young Republic Day was a whole thing. We’d begin preparations weeks in advance. We’d have a skit, or a performance of some kind ready. I’d plan a tricolour menu. We’d make tricolour badges. There would be a last-minute scramble for white kurtas, H would want a jacket, N had to have her paranda and a hundred matching accessories.

Utter chaos and so much fun.

Over the years the excitement waned taking away everything except the festive food. 

And that feels not quite right. 

I mean festivals, specially this one, should mean so much more, shouldn’t they?

However, going down for the flag hoisting meant sacrificing my leisurely Sunday, taking a bath, getting dressed, and oh, that menu still had to be planned and prepared before the cook arrived. Moreover, I know only a handful of people in the complex, leading to those excruciatingly awkward moments when I’m standing alone while everyone else seems to have friends with whom they have plenty to discuss.

So no, I wasn’t going to do any of that.

As I sat down with my laptop the song from the film Border blared out from a nearby housing complex. It’s annoying, this penchant for loudspeakers. Yet, as I got up to slide my doors shut it didn’t feel quite right.

With a sigh, I gave up the idea of writing and listlessly scrolled through my WhatsApp messages. I watched a video shared by a friend where all the musical geniuses of the country had come together to play the national anthem. I felt the sting of tears.

I put away my phone and sought out the husband. ‘Are you going down?’ I asked him. He shook his head, engrossed in a call.

Well, if no one else was going to make an effort, I figured I might as well. I had that bath, dug out a shirt (a green one, since that was the only colour of the flag I had on hand), pinned on a tricolour badge and made my way to the flag hoisting.

As it turned out, I recognised more faces than I expected. We gathered together chatting unexpectedly easily about everything from our mutual dislike for jingoistic films to the advantages of hair straightening. 

Somewhere in the crowd, I even spotted my husband, who had quietly joined in.

The tricolour was unfurled followed by a short simple speech reminding us on how very many things we’ve got to be grateful for as Indians and how all-encompassing, all-accommodating our constitution was.

All I’ll say is don’t let festivals slide by unnoticed. Make them special. Take the trouble. Cook festive foods, meet up with friends, make it a social occasion or a fun one, enjoy the song and the dance, the music and the games but also spare one small moment for the ‘Why’ of it.

There’s much wrong with our country and there’s much right with it too. On a day dedicated to India, I’ll choose to remember the good.

6 Replies to “Sunday, Republic Day”

  1. Hey Tulika. Reading this post made me realize how much I’ve missed both your writing and the joy of blogging!
    This struck a chord! It’s so easy to let traditions slip away, but making the effort… no matter how small, always brings unexpected joy. Loved how you captured the quiet pull of nostalgia and the importance of remembering why we celebrate.
    Here’s to choosing the good and keeping the spirit alive in our own ways! Cheers!

    1. Hey thanks Shilpa. Good to have you back. I do like celebrations. And our country is one thing we take for granted throughout the year. So at least on special days we should make an effort. We’re so busy these days that it’s easy to let it slide.

  2. Such a beautiful post, Tulika!
    It reminded me of my childhood when 26th Jan and 15th Aug had us kids (parents, too) ready before the flag hoisting and the following parade was telecast on DD. How we stayed glued to the TV till the entire programme came to an end.
    Nowadays, these two days are marked by patriotic songs blaring on loudspeakers from every housing society in the neighbourhood. It feels like they are competing with each other!
    I do avoid going downstairs for the flag hoisting as I don’t know too many neighbours. But I do like reminiscing about the time when everything about the 26th and 15th was so different, so beautiful, so charming.
    Shilpa Gupte recently put up this amazing post…Back to blogging.My Profile

    1. It was the same for me – the not knowing people is a bit of a deterrent. One feels awkward. But once you do, it’s okay and you don’t have to stay on either. Just for the flag hoisting. It isn’t too bad.

  3. You seemed to have good fun on Sunday. And you also got some writing done – not on Sunday but about Sunday which is very well too.
    That bit about loudspeakers! It is a pain. I live in a community which is gung-ho about every festival and celebrations take place on a big scale. The downside is every celebration comes with blaring loudspeakers. Each time we thank our stars that we didn’t buy a flat in the buildings facing the area where the loud noisy pandaals are out up. But the sound does travel seeping through our shut glass doors and windows causing us disturbance. We are a set of 3 souls highly sensitive to loud sounds.
    Anamika Agnihotri recently put up this amazing post…Leaf it or clean it – Kitchen lessonMy Profile

    1. Yes, getting the post done was an added bonus. I dislike loudspeakers, have always done so. It’s like forcing people to listen to something you want to. It’s specially painful when you have children trying to study.

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