Every 26th of January (a national holiday in India), my mother would wake us kids up and hurry us about getting ready. At 7am sharp, the white Ambi with the swivelling red light on top would swing out of the gate, carrying us - the kids bleary-eyed, and my mother and the driver all spruced-up and absolutely imposing - and head for Marina Beach to do what the entire nation was doing (or probably not doing at that early hour - although indifference to one's motherland would be hard to believe in the India of the 1980's). Thus we joined our fellow Indians to salute our country on this great day.
We didn't know it then, and certainly didn't appreciate it then, but thanks to my mother, we were placed in VIP seats, with police security, in the chilly January morning, to view the Republic Day Parade. In the manner of almost all civil servants' children who followed their parents' regime at home, who were sent to the best schools and who were expected to 'perform' the right moves with almost military precision in different situations - social, academic, personal - we sat straightlaced in our rattan chairs, while the loudspeakers (that looked like 1950's relics, and indeed, so they may have been) screamed patriotic songs in our ears. The songs were all in Tamizh - which is the language of the South Indian state where I'm from - and would range from selections gleaned from the 1940's to the 1980's, from Bharathiyaar's torch songs about identity and pride in one's country, to some modern ones where the hero - some upright citizen such as a rare honest police officer or some long-suffering idealist teacher - would roam the verdant slopes of hill stations, extolling his matru-bhoomi (motherland) and his own passion for it. Of course, the hero's passion for the heroine (Indian films are rarely without them) would've been shot in another song (presented earlier perhaps), leaving our hero free to wring his hands alone, without worldly distractions.
So while the more patient among us children waited and endured a series of politicians shouting out their speeches (in the hope of retaining shaky votes) in what they thought was Sen-Thamizh (pure unadulterated Tamizh from the >1000 year old 'golden age' of Tamizh civilization), the naughty ones whined for breakfast, squirmed in their seats, and fashioned paper rockets from snatched programs sheets, aiming them at one another. When the state folk dancers came twirling about in their colorful sparkly clothes (karag-aattam) , or tiger costumes (puli-aattam), they'd settle down for a short spell of 20 minutes. Now, as a parent myself, I'd say that was praise-worthy. Of course, back then, children were expected to be seen and not heard, and so we were threatened with dire punishments if we made asses of ourselves - all the more so because other civil servants and their families were watching.
I, who once dreamed of joining the I.P.S. (Indian Police Service), looked forward to the marches of the military and police forces, and the displays of military arsenal. The police forces would march with their dogs - beautiful, healthy, resplendant, Alsatians (German Shepherds) - and they were a treat to watch. The dogs seemed to know this was an important occasion, and they accordingly strutted about, showing off their sleek shiny coats. They deserved to be pampered! I loved the mounted police guard with their smart, prancing horses, but most of all - the Drum and Bagpipe Regiment, wearing tartan (no idea which one's they might've been!), and leopard skins. Yes, Scottish tunes in 1980's post-colonial independent India, on an increasingly hot January day, that recalled the Highlands, shortbread, and the chilly mists of a faraway land...'A Hundred Pipers', 'Colonel Bogey' (my father's favorite), and 'Sons of the Brave'...but it was an Indian Gurkha tune the massed Army, Navy, and Air Force band would play while beating the retreat at Vijay Chowk in New Delhi...followed by William Monk's hymn 'Abide With Me', and the bugle call. I'm sure I don't speak for myself when I say this, but with these tunes my heart would soar, while the pride we felt as a nation swelled with the drums to a crescendo. Even today, while watching youtube videos of the Indian Army and the Indian Police Force during parades and marches, I am so overcome by emotion and a deep yearning for my country...that I must stop writing and compose myself. More often than not, I bawl and throw wads of used tissue around myself, thus ending a most uplifting moment in melodramatic denouement.
When the morning parade in Madras was done, we'd be whisked away to Fort St. George where a breakfast par exellence would be served by liveried waiters - pongal, idli-sambar-chutney, upma, masala dosai, kesari and I remember once, the then Chief Minister MGR's favorite, 'Basundhi' (a creamy, heavenly, condensed milk dessert, studded with crushed pistachio and almonds, delicately fragrant with a hint of saffron and cardamom). If one were a child, one would have one's cheeks pinched, have some aunties squeal "So cuuute!", and would then be thankfully forgotten amidst the knees of grownups making conversation, in their sandalwood and jasmine scented Kanjeevaram silk sarees, white veshtis (thin cotton sarongs of fine quality), and dark high-waisted pleated pants, till it was time to hurry home, with the warm breeze on one's face, watching a bustling cheerful sunny Madras through the wound down window. The day would be spent leisurely, with aunts, uncles, and cousins visiting, several games of cricket, and if one encountered really naughty kids, one occasionally heard a blasphemy of patriotism. The naughty ones would go - "Mere desh ki dharti (The soil of my homeland), Khul gayi teri dhoti (Your sarong just fell open)!", and the more recent - "Vande Mataram (A salute to my Motherland - in this case, India), Takla besharam (Shameless baldie)!" Just anything that rhymed and made the listener uncomfortable, really.
Posted below is a video of the massed bands beating the retreat during last year's Republic Day, in New Delhi. After so much reminiscence, when the time has come to honor my country at the end of this post, I sit bereft of words, silenced by awe. I bow my head low, close my eyes out of reverence, and salute with folded hands my India - "Maa, Tujhe Salaam. Jai Hind!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dlfb7vG8Yo
And here is that excellent hymn 'Abide With Me':
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SvvbUppbL0&feature=related
Watching Republic day in India or seeing anything patriotic on TV/movie always bring me to tears. This is so well written that i need to add this to my list of tearjerker. It is a feeling one can only feel when one is miles away from place you have known as home. That said it also made me laugh a lot reading about the "fun stuff" we used to do when participating in our national celebrations especially in school when the words would be twisted to make not only the singer giggle, but also the listener inviting the attention of the monitors.
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