The National Flag
Till now,I had only held the National flag made of paper. That too after I owned a car, the Indian flag was bought on Republic and Independence day. The children at the traffic signals who were selling the flags were so adorable and that is about as patriotic as I got. Post marriage, the husband made sure we all saw the republic day parade on tv. That was about it. Then on the day of the World cup finals all my patriotic instincts were awakened. After we lost the first two wickets of Sehwag and Sachin, for me the game was over. I decided to take the children to Shivaji Park to play. It was a quiet evening, and I saw a couple from the building also stepping out. I barely know them and in India we do not say hello to strangers. I still thought of them as not interested in the game , just like me.
Shivaji park is actually a stone s throw away from where we live. As we crossed the road which is pretty difficult to do with children on other days, we were stunned. The by lane which leads to the park was full of people. There was a giant screen put up at the chauraha or the junction of the four by lanes. The people were glued to the screen. They were mostly in the blue Indian team s t shirts. Lots of them had the national flag painted on their face, hands. Nothing brash like full body painted but just a small flag.
I had to wade through the crowd to go to the park. The atmosphere was a bit tense. The men made way for me and the children. Lots of bikes were parked where people and ahead people were all standing. The whole sea of humanity was singing Ma Tujhe Salaam. The DJ was playing it but that was drowned in the crowd shouting Dhak Dhak Bol India Bol. I had goose bumps, which I feel when I go to watch a film. Before every film, the national anthem is played and we don’t just stand, we sing along. There were about thirty forty national flags made of cloth flying around. Even when we made two runs , the crowd was chanting, Ganpati Bappa Morya. In between , when the match could go either ways, the DJ played the Ganpati arti of Jaidev Jaidev Jai Mangal Murti. It was a divine atmosphere. Everyone young and old clapping to rhythm.
There was a small inconspicuous stage made by a political party. The couple from my building was on that stage. Did not know of there political affiliations till now. The lady called me to stand with her on the stage. I promptly went and sat near her feet. That’s the only limelight I would ever get and that was the only place available on that stage. Now every time there was a four or a six being scored by the Indian team, the guys around the stage would pass the National flag to a Member of the legislative assembly. He would then wave it and later the guys would hold the flag. I found myself passing the National flag from the volunteers to the leader. The long wooden post, the Khadi of the National flag in its true colours was something I had never experienced. I would hold it a fraction of a second longer before I passed the flag to the volunteers. That was my moment of glory, even before India won the world cup.
Shivaji park is actually a stone s throw away from where we live. As we crossed the road which is pretty difficult to do with children on other days, we were stunned. The by lane which leads to the park was full of people. There was a giant screen put up at the chauraha or the junction of the four by lanes. The people were glued to the screen. They were mostly in the blue Indian team s t shirts. Lots of them had the national flag painted on their face, hands. Nothing brash like full body painted but just a small flag.
I had to wade through the crowd to go to the park. The atmosphere was a bit tense. The men made way for me and the children. Lots of bikes were parked where people and ahead people were all standing. The whole sea of humanity was singing Ma Tujhe Salaam. The DJ was playing it but that was drowned in the crowd shouting Dhak Dhak Bol India Bol. I had goose bumps, which I feel when I go to watch a film. Before every film, the national anthem is played and we don’t just stand, we sing along. There were about thirty forty national flags made of cloth flying around. Even when we made two runs , the crowd was chanting, Ganpati Bappa Morya. In between , when the match could go either ways, the DJ played the Ganpati arti of Jaidev Jaidev Jai Mangal Murti. It was a divine atmosphere. Everyone young and old clapping to rhythm.
There was a small inconspicuous stage made by a political party. The couple from my building was on that stage. Did not know of there political affiliations till now. The lady called me to stand with her on the stage. I promptly went and sat near her feet. That’s the only limelight I would ever get and that was the only place available on that stage. Now every time there was a four or a six being scored by the Indian team, the guys around the stage would pass the National flag to a Member of the legislative assembly. He would then wave it and later the guys would hold the flag. I found myself passing the National flag from the volunteers to the leader. The long wooden post, the Khadi of the National flag in its true colours was something I had never experienced. I would hold it a fraction of a second longer before I passed the flag to the volunteers. That was my moment of glory, even before India won the world cup.
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