70 Years of Independence

On the eve of the Independence Day, I do not want to sound pessimistic. I love my country enough to find faults in it. I love my countrymen enough to try and make them see a point. I love everything about where I live, the flora and the fauna, the innocent people who are going through their daily rigmarole, the laughter, the fragrance, the dark clouds lined with silver laces, the cultures, the traditions, the rich heritage.

I love you India. I love you enough to show you where you are lacking. I love all countries as well. All the people who belong to my species but who are being run by someone else. I might not always have the right words to say it. Just like you might not always get a chance to prove it to me. My problem is with the bigots.

I won’t be able to put it in the right manner ever, because we as a species have reached a different level of savagery. We will bombard your chest with our bullets and yet thump our own chests with fake achievements. What does one achieve through death? What does one achieve through enslavement?

But I digress. I love you enough India, to show you your mistakes. And when I show them to you, just try and see me as you.

~ My Ramblings. (70 years of Independence, really?)

“What sort of love is this love we have for countries? What sort of country is it that will ever live up to our dreams? What sort of dreams were these that have been broken? Isn’t the greatness of great nations directly proportionate to their ability to be ruthless, genocidal? Doesn’t the height of a country’s “success” usually also mark the depths of its moral failure?”

“We are told enough, that as a species we are poised on the edge of the abyss. It’s possible that our puffed-up prideful intelligence has outstripped our instinct for survival and the road back fo safety has already been washed away. In which case there is nothing much to be done. If there is something to be done, then one thing is for sure; those who created the problems will not be the ones to come up with solutions.

Encrypting our e-mails will help, but not very much. Recaliberating our understanding of what love means, what happiness means – and yes, what countries mean – might.

Recaliberating our priorities might. An old-growth forest, a mountain range, or a river valley is more important and certainly more loveable than any country will ever be. I could weep for a river valley and I have. But for a country, oh man I don’t know…..”

~ Things That Can and Cannot Be Said.

Oh dear! I realize I do weep for you. I weep for those 70 souls who do not know whom they died for. My heart bleeds for you little ones. We did not deserve you.



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