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Ranjona Banerji is patriotic for reasons paternal

My father was very strict about stuff like this. Whenever the National Anthem played on All India Radio and later on the scratchy black and white EC TV that everyone seemed to own, we all had to stand up — No Matter What We Were Doing.

When you are little sometimes this can be very tough and then bits of you start to itch or you have to giggle and can’t for fear of paternal wrath.

Besides, the National Anthem was my father’s school song before it became the National Anthem so He Knew All The Verses. Frightening, yes?

I have to confess, though, that although I do love my country dearly, and stand up in movie halls juggling a handbag, a tub of popcorn, two pairs of glasses and myself tottering on high heels, I have cheated on occasion, especially when I’m alone at home.

To make up, I have cried for years when ‘Abide with me’ ends the Beating the Retreat ceremony and Melville de Mellow’s mellifluous baritone discusses the camels silhouetted against the setting sun and Rashtrapati Bhavan.

Melville de Mellow indeed — that tells you how long I haven’t watched that ceremony for. My father and younger sister still jump up and stand to attention when they hear the National Anthem and probably compare notes after that. My mother and I pretty much bagged our family’s quota for irreverence.

But when it came to Independence Day itself, we followed a rather strange pattern. We usually went out of town for the holiday — to the seaside just outside Mumbai or the hills around Mumbai or to Thane, which was a bit of a beautiful piece of wilderness and countryside in those days.

This meant an early morning start — as early as our parents could wake themselves up, that is. Us children were early risers. Which means we would be somewhere along some highway at 9 am, when the siren would suddenly go off.

My father would stop the car and we would all have to jump out and stand to attention for two minutes. The song was sung in our hearts — did I see my father and sister mouthing the words — and no matter if other day trippers stared at us in bewilderment as they whizzed past.

We were paying homage to our freedom: and, more importantly, woe betide anyone who disobeyed the call of the Siren on August 15.