India indeed!

Yesterday was Republic Day, which meant that, between the holiday, the painters and the general mood, this blog did not get written. But, being of conscientious mien, I decided that I would make up for it today, albeit pretending that it is actually yesterday, which is not true, but then that is what pretending is all about.

Once upon a time, life was simpler, with less pretending to be done and being done all around. Those were the days when I believed that India was the best place to be and Indian was the best way to be. I still do, but not without a certain healthy dose of cynical realism attached. I know that things will never get done without payment, to either contractor or labourer; I know that I will have to wait for longer than my turn unless I tell people that my father is a very important person, or that I know someone who is; and I know that if I leave it to the government, my street will not be cleaned, my stolen car will not be found and the security agency that does everything but its job keeping my home safe will not be penalised.

But India still has charm, perhaps most of all at this time of year with its Republic Day celebrations. In the capital of the country, New Delhi, practice sessions begin long before the day with the dress rehearsal bringing together too many people from too many places to walk solemnly along Rajpath watched by eagle-eyed secret service personnel, fond parents and gawkers galore. On the day itself, with costumes somewhat a-pong, the same parade is repeated, with displays of jingoistic fervour, from the procession of our newest and shiniest weaponry to the representative tableaux of various states and their well known products. All punctuated by groups of little children, trained to stay in step and smile proudly back at even prouder families.

All around the country, the same celebrations take place. I would watch the parade for hours on television after I came home from school where we would have to go early in the morning to hoist the national flag and sing the national anthem in doleful, fed-up, vaguely annoyed and shrilly, indignant voices. It was supposed to be a holiday and there we were up and about, and at school, to add insult to injury. But the rest of the day was good, with nowhere much to go and nothing much to do, except lounge about, eating junk food and making desultory conversation.

Today things are different, again. A holiday is always a pleasure, but a day packed with work on and in the house. Right now it is about chasing the small cat, pushing the painters into working faster and balancing recipes with calorie counts. We may live in a republic, but we are certainly not very free!