Independence Day Celebrated!!!

Gone are the days when Independence Day was celebrated by hoisting the flag and distributing sweets with rendering of patriotic songs. TV programmes have taken over and Independence Day is more considered as a day off from regular work or an opportunity to earn more through overtime wages.

The last time I really witnessed flag hoisting live was during my last year in school. As any other day, we used to assemble at school dressed in our ironed uniforms to salute the flag and sing the National Anthem. Patriotic songs, mass drill and March past used to be part of the honour. Sweet distribution would follow after which we would disburse to allow the TV programmes to take over for the rest of the day.

This year Independence day falling on a Saturday, it’s a holiday here. On the previous eve, there was a dinner get together organized by the employees of a corporate company on the pretext of the occasion. The dress code was decided as ‘Kurta and Jeans’ to depict Indian culture and there was almost 70% compliance. The other 30% constituted more of other nationals. ‘Bindhis’ were distributed at the venue (But I already had one on my forehead!!!). Inspite of all these, to me, it looked like just another dinner with music on a Friday night with no relevance to the spirit of the occasion. There were spot prizes, music and dance, dinner and desert which made the occasion look more westernised.

But amidst all this pub culture, there was a little ‘Indianism’ evidently shown when all the Indians stood in attention when the national anthem was played at midnight sharp. At the same time, the Indian flag was put up from somewhere. I gave a proud grin, when the other nationals seated at the adjoining table stood up saluting the Indian flag along with us. I sang the National Anthem with all my heart and a light sense of satisfaction flashed over.

It’s Weird Sometimes

‘Hurry up, Swathu, getting late’. That was my dad and he had come to see me off at the airport. My aunt and cousin had already finished their formalities and had passed the gate, ready to board. The terminal building was pitch dark and the surroundings seemed to be really sickening. As I proceeded to the immigration desk, I found four Tamilian ladies. The second lady in the row asked me for my passbook. I handed it over and she examined my photograph, then asked me again, ‘Where is your passbook?’ I gazed at her dumbfounded. She pointed to the photograph and told me the photograph was not acceptable. It was one taken during my school days. I tried arguing, but in vain. Aware that I had not much time, I pleaded to the lady near her. The lady winked at me and indicated to me to hide below the desk while she would stamp the passbook and drop it down. I obeyed her instructions, picked up my passbook and sneaked away just as the other lady caught a glimpse of me. I moved towards the gate to board the flight.

What I saw last was a crazy mob chasing me, when I jerked and woke up only to hear the laptop beside me still singing one of the tunes of A.R Rahman’s album. I got out of my bed, turned off the music and went back intending to sleep, but ended up analysing my dream. It was one of the weirdest dreams I have come across.

1. I am just back from a vacation and have no intention of travelling at least for the next six months.
2. My dad could not have seen me off from here. He would have received me at the destination.
3. I never ever can imagine that aunt and cousin of mine travelling in the flight as mine. They are stationed elsewhere.
4. The terminal building here is never pitch dark. It’s well lit up, for that matter at any time of the day.
5. I never knew or heard about any airport, where the immigration authorities asked for a passbook instead of a passport.
6. I completed (tried to) my immigration without check-in. Throughout the run, I never knew where my tickets were.
7. I hardly remember carrying any baggage, save for the laptop bag that slung across my shoulder. In reality this was near to impossible. At least I would be carrying a small travel bag.
8. The funniest part was having seen four Tamilian ladies in a row at the immigration counter of an international airport in a gulf country.
9. The way the passbook was stamped, hiding and running through the gate, would have been the most adventurous act I would have performed in all my future births to come.

The only thing I could relate to reality is the ‘Photograph’. My passport contains a photograph in which I have posed in my school uniform and normally, I encounter a question or two at the airport check-in counter or the immigration, be it in India or outside.

And regarding the terminal building, it was very different from the actual terminal building. I can recollect I have seen this kind of building earlier in one of my dreams. It was somewhat related to flying, but I can hardly remember the sequence of events.

I have heard that dreams are a result of your imagination and wishes. But this is one of the weirdest ones I have dreamt off.