ESSENCE OF FREEDOM

It’s my last day in town. Instead of feeling the joy of going abroad, an overwhelming sense of melancholy envelops me, much like an overcast sky suppressing the bright sunlight.

- SREELEKHA CHATTERJEE

My mother, seated next to me in the car’s front seat, doesn’t talk, unless I ask her something to which she replies—almost reluctantly, looking in another direction—in monosyllables. She is unmindful, gloomy.

“It’s your last day in the country.” She utters when I pull the car at the traffic signal. I remain quiet, unsure of how to react to that.

My surroundings stir with penetrating midmorning sunlight, palpitating with life—thronging pavement, mixed shops at the roadside, and barrows moving with fruits and vegetables. Several small children, probably between 8 and 15 years of age, hover around every car, scooter, auto-rickshaw, at the signal with vibrant tricolored flags of various sizes. I notice their disheveled state —tattered clothes, unkempt hair, faces and body smeared with dust and dirt, indicating that they live in filth and squalor, unknown to my world of safety and cleanliness. One of them comes up to our car.

Practical patriotism means not a mere sentiment or even emotion of love of the motherland but a passion to serve our fellow countrymen. - Swami Vivekananda

“Sir, won’t you buy one for your car?” He asks.

I spot national flags everywhere—on dashboards of cars, attached to scooter handlebars, and jutting out of autorickshaws.

“It’s independence day,” I say aloud, suddenly feeling patriotism surge about me.