Ganatantra dinotsava subhakankshalu!

Ganatantra dinotsava subhakankshalu!

Damn … why do I always blank out when I want to pen down some thoughts!?!?! I suppose I’ll just have to categorize it as one-of-Nature’s-mysteries and leave it alone. Hmph. But I digress. Of late a lot of thoughts have been swirling around in the cerebral firmament. So here goes.

I was watching the parade today on TV. And the eye generally mists over when you see a Shaheed 28 year-old Captain Harshan’s old father comes up to accept the Ashok Chakra… or when an equally brave man Colonel Vasant Venugopal’s young widow accepts the honour on his behalf. There was also one Dinesh Raghuraman (I hope I got the name right), one Naib Chunni Lal … all of whom received the medals posthumously.

When I think of them, I realize I’m so insignificant. What am I after all???? A mundane, one-of-the-crowd IT engineer, earning her pay packet… I mean … here I am secure in my beautiful home, filled with the people I love; I have a great job which gives me enough money to pay for my dance. And yet … yet … this bloody greedy mind cribs for more. And there were those soldiers who CHOSE to die … who spurned the regular MBA/Doctor/Engineer or whatever relatively 'safer' jobs that they could easily have got … they died … leaving behind aching spaces in the hearts of those who loved them.

All I really face is big bugs and small and medium sized bugs in my programs. Not bullets. Just bugs. I’ve good stuff to wear… to eat. I have my family around me. My mom makes me nice food and loves me … my dad is there for me always. Every weekend I’ve my dance class … and yet … I manage to actually feel cranky sometimes.

I’ll try never to crib again. (Hey … I said I’ll try) I’ll think of that slain Colonel and Captain and the lives that could’ve been and never were … and I’ll realize that I don’t have the right to wail if things go wrong. No sir … because all I face are bugs. Not bullets.

I salute you Sirs. Jai Hind.