Ever since I remember being in school, 26th January and 15th August have been incredibly busy. While we were at Dad's school, I would go accompany his students for the 4 AM March past and slogan calls all over the campus.
That was how we would wake everybody up. And I would look forward to the day ahead. There would be flag hoisting and cultural performances, Dad's speech.
And then it would be my turn for which Dad would have made me rehearse for almost a month. While I would go on to the center stage and hold the microphone, something in me would hope I wish I never have to stop doing this. And every single time, the school would reward me with a little prize.
Dad would be called to hand it over to me.
I was probably too little to understand if it made him proud.
But Mom has kept those moments alive in pictures. I can tell he was happy, he was living the two of us together.
I like re-visiting that period every time I'm home. Mom has now given up on asking me why I'm always around the album cabin.
Through my brief stay in the boarding school and then eventually moving to a Convent School, I was always asked to prepare a speech about Independence/Republic Day and deliver it. I have enjoyed doing that. While in college too, I ensured I call up Dad at 5 in the morning to wish him and then try getting a few quotes from him which I could use for my write-ups. I was mature enough now to understand this is making him feel valued, making me feel dependent. We were both okay with agreeing to that.
26th Jan 2017 was the first time ever this day felt a holiday. I was in my flat the whole time. Dad wore a suit I got him for the School function. I almost choked when the thought dawned over that he would have given a speech. And I did not. He posted a selfie later with Maa and I had my excuse to call my parents and wish them.
I guess he knew what I was feeling. I guess he wanted to say I was very much there with him, on stage while he spoke and did those adorable gestures with his hands and neck. But he never said anything. Neither did I.
The next day I go to office, I'm trying to be happy. But 26th Jan was different this time, how could I?
It's difficult accepting reality sometimes.
To divert my mind, I happened to ask a colleague how this Republic Day fared for him. He showed me a video where there are three kids, one belonging each to the Hinduism, Islam and Christianity. They want to see a Republic Day function in a school close to them but they're not allowed inside. They find a way out. The Muslim kid goes to a Mosque and gets a Green piece of cloth. The Hindu kid goes to a Hanuman temple and gets a Saffron piece. The Christian child goes to a Church and brings a White piece of cloth from near to Lord Jesus's foot.
The kids then sew those cloth pieces together. And the next thing I see in the video is they're attempting to raise the National Flag they made by hooking it across a bamboo stick.
All I could manage in that moment was to be grateful to Ajit, my colleague for showing this to me.
I take extreme pride in India, being an Indian.
I realized circumstances could bind you to behave a certain way. But your spirit is unchained. Alive. Colorful.
My spirit is Red because my heart agrees to be it's Confidante.
I'll breathe Red in all my reasons of Hope, Choices and Change.
When things go downhill for you, maybe take a moment to identify what's your spirit color!
And paint all of You in it. You'll feel your chosen color, you'll become that to live it.
That was how we would wake everybody up. And I would look forward to the day ahead. There would be flag hoisting and cultural performances, Dad's speech.
And then it would be my turn for which Dad would have made me rehearse for almost a month. While I would go on to the center stage and hold the microphone, something in me would hope I wish I never have to stop doing this. And every single time, the school would reward me with a little prize.
Dad would be called to hand it over to me.
I was probably too little to understand if it made him proud.
But Mom has kept those moments alive in pictures. I can tell he was happy, he was living the two of us together.
I like re-visiting that period every time I'm home. Mom has now given up on asking me why I'm always around the album cabin.
Through my brief stay in the boarding school and then eventually moving to a Convent School, I was always asked to prepare a speech about Independence/Republic Day and deliver it. I have enjoyed doing that. While in college too, I ensured I call up Dad at 5 in the morning to wish him and then try getting a few quotes from him which I could use for my write-ups. I was mature enough now to understand this is making him feel valued, making me feel dependent. We were both okay with agreeing to that.
26th Jan 2017 was the first time ever this day felt a holiday. I was in my flat the whole time. Dad wore a suit I got him for the School function. I almost choked when the thought dawned over that he would have given a speech. And I did not. He posted a selfie later with Maa and I had my excuse to call my parents and wish them.
I guess he knew what I was feeling. I guess he wanted to say I was very much there with him, on stage while he spoke and did those adorable gestures with his hands and neck. But he never said anything. Neither did I.
The next day I go to office, I'm trying to be happy. But 26th Jan was different this time, how could I?
It's difficult accepting reality sometimes.
To divert my mind, I happened to ask a colleague how this Republic Day fared for him. He showed me a video where there are three kids, one belonging each to the Hinduism, Islam and Christianity. They want to see a Republic Day function in a school close to them but they're not allowed inside. They find a way out. The Muslim kid goes to a Mosque and gets a Green piece of cloth. The Hindu kid goes to a Hanuman temple and gets a Saffron piece. The Christian child goes to a Church and brings a White piece of cloth from near to Lord Jesus's foot.
The kids then sew those cloth pieces together. And the next thing I see in the video is they're attempting to raise the National Flag they made by hooking it across a bamboo stick.
All I could manage in that moment was to be grateful to Ajit, my colleague for showing this to me.
I take extreme pride in India, being an Indian.
I realized circumstances could bind you to behave a certain way. But your spirit is unchained. Alive. Colorful.
My spirit is Red because my heart agrees to be it's Confidante.
I'll breathe Red in all my reasons of Hope, Choices and Change.
When things go downhill for you, maybe take a moment to identify what's your spirit color!
And paint all of You in it. You'll feel your chosen color, you'll become that to live it.
