अगर ख़िलाफ़ हैं होने दो जान थोड़ी है

ये सब धुआँ है कोई आसमान थोड़ी है

लगेगी आग तो आएँगे घर कई ज़द में

यहाँ पे सिर्फ़ हमारा मकान थोड़ी है

मैं जानता हूँ के दुश्मन भी कम नहीं

लेकिन हमारी तरहा हथेली पे जान थोड़ी है

हमारे मुँह से जो निकले वही सदाक़त है,

हमारे मुँह में तुम्हारी ज़ुबान थोड़ी है

जो आज साहिबे मसनद हैं, कल नहीं होंगे,

किराएदार हैं ज़ाती मकान थोड़ी है

सभी का ख़ून है शामिल यहाँ की मिट्टी में,

किसी के बाप का हिन्दोस्तान थोड़ी है

— राहत इन्दौरी (Rahat Indori)

I am in the UK right now. I love it here. I have been in India all my life. I never chose it. I was born there. I moved around cities. I didn’t mind it. I didn’t like it none too much neither. Never one to be too caught up in tribalism or identities, it didn’t matter to me, being an Indian, or being a Bihari or being a born Hindu, I was not going to let it define me. I didn’t even celebrate Independence Days. As I grew up, & as I interacted with the world around me, I decided I could be a cosmopolitan. I would love all, meet all, greet all. And when I decided to move to the UK, I thought to myself, “That’s it!, 30 good years in India, but I am done!, I am not going back!”

For the longest time, I didn’t see the charm that bound poets, writers and historian. Honestly I was not “really” proud to be Indian. As I grew older and as I matured into an adult, I became even more disillusioned. I went to the best national colleges, only to feel disappointed and let down. I went out to work, paid my taxes, followed the law, tried to be nice to my neighbour and be a model citizen, I was disappointed with what I saw. I didn’t think I was getting good returns for the amount I was paying and the effort I put. I started to empathise with the people leaving the country and their identities away. Because I felt there was no hope. 1.4 billion people, disappointed, hopeless, surviving and barely scraping by, I didn’t think they had a chance. How could there be hope? How could they be surviving? Whatever success stories I saw, whatever success stories I knew, felt like a contradiction, an aberration from the system. Every time I turned my head around, I would focus on the worst symptoms of a failing state – a pothole, or litter, jaywalkers, or people breaking the law with entitlement, or the law breaking people with impunity.

In the last 12 years, I saw a change, a change happen in this country. Whilst I was not extremely hopeful before that, whatever feelings of confidence I had in this great nation and civilization was gradually demolished and subverted by the rising iron wall at the center. I could pretend to not care. I am part of the majority. I could pretend that maybe what I saw was a marginal expression and not a true reflection of this country’s soul. But 12 years, three terms later, I don’t think that’s the case anymore. I feel, or I started to feel, that the most rotten part of the society was not just a part, but a complete organism, an affliction. I saw friends turn on friends, brothers turn on brothers, acquaintances bicker, and not bicker, but batter each other. Every shred of humanity, which at once was a matter of pride and a matter of identity, was being stripped away in its entirety. How did this happen? When did people become puppets? When did we stop thinking? When did we start believing? When did we stop questioning? When did we start hating? Were we always like this? The algorithm and the powers that be just enabled our worst proclivities to come to the fore.

And I’ll be honest. I would brush these aside, calling myself apolitical. But honestly, I never thought things would go so bad. I never thought the institutions that keep the country alive and fair and democratic would be subverted to these levels. I thought he would have more sense than that. I thought people would have more sense than that. And yet, we repeat our mistakes. Of course, no one has more sense than that. Time and again, we make the same mistakes; we face the same problems. Time is a flat circle. You give somebody too much power, with or without intention; they wanna have and retain that power. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. This is not a new lesson. It’s been there since time immemorial. And that’s what happened. It’s just tragic that, as a people, as a smart people, I might add, we do not learn from the past. We do not learn from the pages of history. Pretty soon the centre decided to throw every tool in the shed to retain power, to intimidate opponents, to ballyrag dissenters, to shut down questions. Our ways or else?

What does one do? 27 years of indifference, recklessness, and inactivity make it incredibly difficult for a man to change his ways, especially if he’s not incentivised to do so. I could still do a good job, I could still make a good living, I could still walk by without any differential danger to my family, given that I could pay my way out of things. Should it really matter to me? Should it matter if the nation is in a good state? Should it matter if the nation does not become more capable? It’s not.

Then something happened. From practically nowhere, the youth of the nation, students of the country, galvanized and came together for a singular cause. The student-led protests against the NEET exam debacle and the wider issue of question paper and education system in India was perhaps one of the first of its kind. Completely mobilized by decentralized bodies comprising Gen Z youngsters, college students, newly employed members of society, parents, doctors, nurses, filled up the streets. For those who do not know, this protest started off as a small outrage at Jantar Mantar, which is the designated protest site in the country, and it grew as it was lent support by some of the most distinguished luminaries in the field of education, like Sonam Wangchuk. Pretty soon, other important members of the Indian social fabric and political hierarchy joined in. What happened was nothing short of extraordinary. Protests led not just by slogans but memes, but also posters, skits, videos, shorts. They used to call the French masters in protests. I think we have a new pioneer now. It is the Indian Gen Z. This was a different protest. For someone rightly said, situation is so bad, even the privileged are here. Every sane, sensible person I knew had some connection directly representing themselves in the protest. I myself had my father, my friends, my girlfriend attend the protest. These are not people who need to go out and protest to the government, against the government. My father is a pension member of the Ministry of Coal. My friend earns perhaps the highest or one of the highest salaries in the country of India, and he’s a guy from IIT Kanpur. My girlfriend herself is a journalist. And yet they were there because they believed in the cause. And everyone was part of the protest knows that this was not just about the cause. It was an expression of freedom and reproach against the vampire squid of power that had gripped Delhi for the past 12 years. In an environment where asking questions is not only frowned upon, but also rewarded with anger and punishment, the young few showed what breaking the status quo really meant. One of the highlights of the year this year was when a brave couple climbed to the top of the Empire State Building and hoisted a flag which said, “The power of the people is greater than the people in power.” What a year to pick this stunt to do, For our youth certainly shook the otherwise geriatric center to the core.

Suddenly, everyone started asking this evil eye some really fundamental questions. The whole facade of divinity that has been created around this banal, basic, corrupt man was no longer unbreakable. The government caved & decided to sack the education minister. And whilst they promised no action would be taken on the protesters, they reneged. And like the cowardly, craven caterpillars they are, they went for the weakest. This is who these people in power are. These two people ruining the government, ruining the country. All they know is to stab in the back. They refuse questions. They refuse to appear in parliament. They refuse to have a straight conversation with the country. And they renege on promises. And they have not just reneged on this particular promise, they have been reneging on promises for the last 12 years. And yet, for the first time in a decade, I feel hopeful. I feel hopeful in the people who are younger than me, in the people who decided to take action, in the people who believed that this land is still worth fighting for, in the people who gave up their sense of security and their sense of anonymity to rise up against this wretched power. It finally felt like, yes, questions could be asked, that accountability could be expected, and that maybe, just maybe, the psyche of this nation has not totally been corrupted. I know that longer battles remain. I have never felt more nationalistic than when I was hating on those old soulless maggots, who are ruining this nation. To my utter sadness, I had landed in London about 5 days before the 20th of July. I tried to do my bit, however insignificant it seemed. I encouraged my friends, contributed money to foundations that were helping the protest, engaged in social media banter(in the national interest). I couldn’t help but weep, at the thought of not being there in person. When I read about the brutality and the bloodshed by the police on the peaceful protesters, I felt an incredible amount of shame and disgust at myself. I knew in my heart — that I should have been there, taking those hits! I knew in my heart that this was a cause worth losing a few bones for. Yes I cared.

I know that nothing’s fundamentally changed. But I also know that for the first time in a long time, I feel that this tunnel is not long but round. This whole ordeal allowed a nation to heal, albeit even a little. It showed that yes, we can still come together to show the people who are in power, where power really resides.

One of the most famous films, “Rang De Basanti”, taught us many lessons, one of which is, “Koi bhi desh perfect nahi hota, perfect banana hota hai.” So yes, this time I will celebrate the Independence Day. I will celebrate a little differently. I will celebrate not by going out and firing crackers, or by thumping my chests, or by watching “Gandhi” or elucidating my new foreign friends about the various cultures and traditions of the Indian life. This year, I will celebrate in reflection and in acknowledgement. I will celebrate quietly. I will celebrate with a solemn knowledge that, we, yes we, still have a soul. I have realized that I was infact wrong, maybe the future is not that dim. And it has also shown me that perhaps I was infact wrong about not being proud to be an Indian. I am a proud Indian. I am proud of what it can be, & what the youth have shown them to be. Perhaps I was wrong about not caring for the land. I do care. And perhaps I was wrong about one other thing too. Yes, I’ll be back.

Happy Independence day everyone!