One individual may die for an idea; but that idea will, after his death, incarnate itself in a thousand lives. That is how the wheel of evolution moves on and the ideas and dreams of one nation are bequeathed to the next. - Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose
Freedom that came to us on 15th August 1947 was the first step towards the establishment of a truly just – a truly free society. The freedom fighters of this nation thought that the best interest of this nation will come to the forefront only if the governance of the nation will be in the hands of the citizens of this nation. They believed that if by sacrificing themselves for the cause of freedom, they will be able to create an order of society where the future generations will work to create a society that treats all its members with dignity and justice. In short, they got us the freedom to write our own destiny.
Unfortunately when most of us took birth, a larger section of the population had forgotten the larger scheme of things. Once the oppressors were gone, there was momentary celebration and then out quest for building our own future quickly gave way to my quest for my future and your quest for your future. Consequently, the ones in the society who were rich and powerful became richer and even more powerful while the suffering of the needy and the poor was ignored beyond compare. The foreign oppressors were gone. The people who had the interest of their nation above ours were gone. But unfortunately, they were replaced by the people who had the best interest of their selfish selves above that of this nation. When we took birth, we saw apathy and abuse by our own brethren towards their own people.
When we were young – we were told about freedom, about patriotism. We were told to win competitions by reciting amazing pieces of literature. We were told how people suffered in the past to get us where we are today. We were taught to be critical about the others. If one thing we Indians are good at – it is finding faults with others and transferring the blame – shrugging off the responsibility. What we were not told is about that unfulfilled dream – that incomplete mission – the quest that each Indian should have been part of – the dream of building a bright future for our own people.
Nevertheless, there must have been something so special about those men and women who died for us – that they continue to come back to us time and again. Air is all around – but you don’t see it. The result of their sacrifice in all around – but we hardly acknowledge it. I don’t know if it is by birth, by parenting, by schooling or by company of other people – but some people tend to be a little different. When the word India comes to their mind – the dream of an ideal nation goes past their mind. Their concern circle – somehow – goes beyond their immediate self. A pain of a fellow human distracts them. A critical word against India hurts them. Seeing our nation way far different from what we would like it to be agonizes them. It is just like a small gene inside them is of resemblance to the great men who came before them – the people who were absolutely in love with this nation – the people who actually thought of this nation like their mother – their motherland.
A get together of such parched souls desperate to heal their own inner wounds in the Sankalp Volunteers – people who have a deep routed desired to serve – in their own limited capacity – their won motherland. A rich son may build a palace for the mother and keep 20 servants to help her. A rich son may offer the world’s finest food to his mother. A poor son next door may just be able to offer boiled rice and salt to his ailing mother in his dripping shelter. Nevertheless he does the best he can. Unmindful of what the others can do. There are some who are just keen on doing what they can – in the best way they can – for the betterment of their mother – their motherland.
Finally when we found each other, we found company in a world which looked so very unresponsive about the call of our heart. We found people who live the same dream – share the same dream. We found people who were willing to go an extra mile for the cause of this nation. Dreams started getting out of the heads. The wonderful parentage and education that we have got strengthened us and we started moving ahead – one step at a time. Gradually the restlessness got channeled into sheer hard work and anger took the shape of determination. Then when we looked up to the sky on a March evening as we remembered the sacrifices of the revolutionary martyrs – we knew somewhere inside – their dreams, their ideas live within us.
P.S. I sat down to write the annual report of Project Tiranga. This is what I wrote. When I finished writing, I knew this is not fit to be called the report – but then – I did not want to write one anymore.