On its birthday, India feels abandoned by an absentee dad

By Shobhaa De

Here we are, celebrating the 68th year of ‘azaadi’ — India’s precious Independence Day. My inner voice tells me we should pack away our cynicism, suspend logic … and rejoice. When I was growing up, there were standing instructions issued by my fiercely nationalist father — Independence Day had to be celebrated with fervour and enthusiasm by the family. No arguments! It was not to be treated like just another holiday. There was no question of sleeping late or lazing around in nightwear. Nor could we skip the Prime Minister’s Red Fort speech on All India Radio. My mother, too, did her bit by making a special sweet dish for lunch — puran polis, shrikhand, tel poli, basundi. We celebrated 15th of August like it was Diwali. In my mind, it remains just that.

I confess I have not kept up my parents’ tradition. And for my children, the day is pretty pedestrian — like any other day, really. The conversation at the breakfast table is definitely not about azaadi. It frustrates me a little. But then again, it also raises an important question: What does ‘Being Indian’ mean to this generation? Do they think about it at all? Does it matter? Should it matter?

I had an interesting conversation with a teacher in Goa recently. She asked me, “Ever wondered why American schools focus so much on teaching students American history? Why is world history not given the same importance? It’s because they want future citizens to look inwards, at their own country. The idea is to discourage the young from getting attracted to other destinations, other cultures. Which is why the average American is only interested in America.”

It’s the opposite story in India. We are so busy looking beyond our shores, we forget to see what is happening in our own backyard. Most students are pretty dheela when it comes to basic facts. Most can’t name even 10 states of the country. All things ‘imported’ still act like magnets. We haven’t outgrown the old ‘phoren’ complex. ‘Being Indian’ remains a distant, unfocused thought. And yet, there are countless inspiring stories of young, underprivileged Indians born in abject poverty and shining gloriously across the world. We waste no time claiming them as our own. Quite forgetting the fact that their rise to the top is solely because of individual effort, dedication and hard work. Right now, we are going gaga over Google-wala Sundar Pichai, like we had anything to do with his success. The truth is, he made it on his own. Despite India.

Clearly, if it isn’t success stories like Pichai’s that are going to act as triggers for the disillusioned Indian, what will? Sadly, the buck stops with governance. It is the utter failure of the state to look after citizens that is crippling India and holding it back. It’s not even as if Indians are a demanding lot. We happily settle for much less than what we deserve. We are a highly exploitable lot — and politicians know it. We are also pretty stupid when it comes to emotional issues. Throw a sob sister story at us, and we abandon reason. Rona-dhona is a national virtue. We cry over everything and anything — it makes us feel better. We call ourselves peace loving and tolerant — that is part of our self-created mythology. We get ‘senti’ over nonsensical issues. We love the idea of the Great Indian Parivar — but it doesn’t exist anymore, if it ever did. We are nosy and intrusive. Rude and aggressive. We love to act holier than thou. Being pious (only on the surface) is considered a good thing. Minding our own business, a bad thing. We are always in search of a larger-than-life father/mother figure. Well, part of the mess we are in today is because there is no father/mother figure around.

Sorry, Narendra Modi. You were supposed to play that role and guide India through a difficult patch. So far, you have been an absentee dad. Nobody knows who’s holding the baby that is India! That makes us very insecure. We feel confused and lost right now. As the head of the parivar, we expected a great deal from you. We realized you were a single parent with over a billion children to look after. But you picked that role! You promised you’d look after us to the best of your ability. You said you would restore order, make us proud to be Indian once again. Nothing of the sort has happened. And we are in panic mode. When children start feeling abandoned, an imminent break-up of the family unit becomes inevitable.

We believed in your vision. Your speeches got the youth charged up after years of listlessness. We travelled the world on your kurta tails and admired the way you held your own with world leaders. We waited…and we waited…patiently, for something more solid to happen. Something we could build on. You were given a fair chance, Mr Modi, to make good on at least a few of those promises. Children hate to feel shortchanged by a parent who talks big and delivers little. Children need a two-way communication system with those who care for them. Your ‘Mann Ki Baat’ would have worked had it been a meaningful family discourse — not a pompous monologue.

And that, dear Mr PM, is the real mood of the nation — no matter what your Red Fort speech promised and what your admirers tell you. Remember, promises made have to be promises kept. Or else, they ring false. Imagine India’s delicate haalat at this moment, Sir — if Daddy leaves us stranded now, it will be back to Mummy!