Column

I will be so happy when this Independence weekend is over. Relax, dear reader, I am not about to embark on yet another fiery speech on why India’s freedom is meaningless, the good old yeh azaadi jhootha hai lecture. This is about a personal affliction that has made the past few days exhausting. It’s about my feet and their awkward tendency to spring to attention the moment the national anthem plays anywhere at all.

And our anthem has been playing quite a bit this week. Sneaking up on you when you least expect it. Like when you are watching the Olympics on television — traditionally a totally relaxed and passive activity, with no fear of feeling nationalistic, no danger of winning medals. When suddenly our boy Bindra goes and bags a gold. An Olympic gold medal. Our first individual Olympic gold in history! And wham! The national anthem starts playing, the Indian flag unfurls and my Pavlovian feet leap out of cushioned comfort and totter proudly to attention. For once, my dutiful durwan pose solemnly facing electronic equipment while singing Jana Gana Mana in my head does not make me feel like a fool. In fact, it feels fantastic.

For the next few days, every time I switch the TV on, I am swept away by the brilliant Bindra, the wonderful Jana Gana Mana and my irrepressible springing feet. Then comes Independence Day — to my alarm, we have more of the national anthem, my feet grow incorrigibly hyperactive, and I become adept at reading, writing, or taking a nap while standing in attention. We Indians are programmed to adapt to ritualistic behaviour.

But could we look beyond rituals and reflex actions? Could we, for example, focus on the dear old nation the anthem celebrates? Well, why on earth would you want to do that? Take a quick look. Inflation has crossed 12 per cent. Jammu and Kashmir is up in flames. The government is struggling to clear its name following the cash for votes drama. Terrorists’ bombs are killing scores in big cities. Maoist violence is killing scores in the countryside. With sectarian strife, hunger deaths, crippling corruption and assorted problems, India did not seem particularly happy this August 15. For me, at least, the ritualistic standing in attention to the national anthem is not a moment of pride — except in cases like Bindra’s — but a moment of reflection.

A good starting point is just hearing the words of the anthem. It is a tribute to the maker of India’s destiny (bhaarata bhaagya vidhaataa), the one who rules the minds of the people (jana gana mana adhinaayaka) the one who brings good fortune to the people (jana gana mangala daayaka). It’s a hymn celebrating the people and diversity of India — its content is not political but philosophical. Written almost 100 years ago, this song presented

Rabindranath Tagore’s vision of his own country, one that was at the time under British rule. So Tagore chose to look at his motherland as a country governed by an eternal, benevolent higher power who ruled not just the land, but people’s hearts.

Which is why the controversy over the song being written in praise of George V in 1911 is so absurd. Only those who have no clue about Tagore’s exceptionally refined and sensitive poetry can imagine that the song is crude court poetry.

Sadly, even today the rulers of India don’t aspire to rule the hearts and minds of the people, or even attempt to be jana gana mangala daayaka. While springing to our feet in ritualistic reflex, let’s give a thought to this century-old vision of a motherland that we may still wish to see.

The writer is editor, The Little Magazine. Email:sen@littlemag.com