This weekend was a blast. On Saturday most sisters went rushing to their brothers to renew the lifetime protection warranty. Independence Day on a Monday was an added bonanza. It seems all these years of singing Just another manic Monday Wish it were Sunday did not fall on deaf ears.
Many of my friends zoomed off for a weekend getaway to nearby hill stations, while the rest of us had to contend ourselves with retail therapy and hogathons. An extended weekend is like a windfall so why not make the most of it.
But what many of us did not do was, ponder upon the historic relevance of a day which marks the birth of a free nation.
In our country we don’t exactly celebrate our Independence. School kids are herded to Red Fort and made to sing patriotic songs in the searing heat.... a lacklustre speech by a Prime Minister who prefers silence to action and does a Dhritashatra to the misdemeanours of his colleagues.... It almost seems hypocritical to celebrate 64 years of emancipation from British rule only to have most of our elected loot the country’s resources and empty its coffers. It’s tough to be a proud citizen of this country.
Which brings me to the question – what does freedom mean to you? When I asked around, I got interesting responses. To be able to drink straight from a carton of milk.....freedom from accepted norms of how I should behave....to be free of control that others exert on our life....to be capable enough to course the chart of my life without having to depend on anyone for help...to be able to throw my wet towel on the floor.
Freedom is how we perceive it; each of us interprets it in our unique ways.