True Patriotism and Duty: A Short Satire

True Patriotism and Duty: A Short Satire

We all make mistakes, don't we? And yet, we ignore ours and seize every opportunity to criticize others for their follies. This story is a grim attempt to make, not him, not her, not them, not it, but us contemplate over our own deeds, whether wrong or right. Also, it throws light over the difference between jingoism and true patriotism.

I was indulging in my sweet, honey-like slumber. It was probably the best sleep I had been experiencing. Little did I know that I was going to be pulled out from the depths of my slumber and brought to the surface in an instant. Suddenly, in the midst of my seemingly eternal sleep, I could hear my mother screaming out her lungs. She spoke with an extremely shrill voice just like a crow that sometimes caws merely to pester those around it.

“Have you watched the news?” asked my mother, her pitch high suggesting the ‘importance’ of her saying, “They say that the government plans to fix the roads of our country! What a relief it would be to know that while travelling by road, neither you nor your luggage might fall off the rickshaw, because of the so-called ‘roads’ of our country. They are no better than muddy village tracks!”

“Firstly, is the repairing of roads a matter that requires detailed planning?” replied my father, trying to ‘sound’ knowledgeable, “Isn’t it the government’s responsibility to ensure the comfort of the citizens? Secondly, those who ‘plan’ to execute their responsibilities are usually the ones who leisurely spend their entire time ‘planning’. Making attempts to plan the execution of responsibilities is a clever way to portray one’s determination towards fulfilling one’s responsibilities, but in reality, is dexterously backing away from one’s responsibilities.”

“So, you mean to say that the government makes fake promises? I don’t agree!” said my mother, sounding agitated.

“The truth remains the truth, irrespective of whether your opinions incline toward it or away from it,” replied my father, as he was eating a banana that he picked up from the fruit basket, “Trying to plan the carrying-out of your responsibilities is just like saying that you couldn’t quench your grandma’s thirst because you were lazy to traverse your way up to the well, on the mountain. I defy your opinion because this is certainly not the first time that the government has openly announced its idea of setting the roads right. And, why only roads? The government has taken several solemn vows of providing ‘free’, ‘clean’ drinking water; ‘regular’ supply of electricity and even ‘hygienic’ public toilets, but only the Almighty knows how many promises have been fulfilled.”

“Hmm, I now somewhat agree,” said my mother, sounding convinced, yet very loud, “Remember, we had to cancel our Mysore trip because of ‘my sore’ back. We had travelled quite a few shops to get ourselves geared up for the trip and all that fancy mud road-travelling ended up giving me a severe backache.”

My eyes had opened by now, owing to the cawing of not one, but two crows. I lay awake on my bed and aimlessly stared at the fan attached to the ceiling of my bedroom. Enough, I thought. Papa and Maa had had their share in the argument and now it was my turn to pitch in. I tiptoed out, as quiet as a mouse, to the living room.

“Huh! What is this argument about?” I said, “And, maa why do you have to scream out your point? My teacher in school teaches that the most important aspect of debate is to defend your point and not verbally attack your opponent!”

“Parivartan,” said my mother, “I know you know a lot about debate. But, why do you point fingers only at me? What about your dad, who’s also here? Wasn’t he also loud?”

“Yeah, papa…” I said but was interrupted.

“I was loud because the matter was such, Parivartan,” interrupted my father, who seemed very clear in what he had to say, “Isn’t it very obvious to get your pulse rate high, when talking about the Indian government? I’m very patriotic towards my country and its citizens who are my fellow siblings. All I want is the welfare of my citizens and I can neither stand the gimmicks played by the government nor the fake welfare-oriented promises given by the government.”

“But…” I said and was again interrupted. How terribly annoying. 

“And, it is, for this reason, I want a change, a big change, a bigger change in the way the government handles the tasks that are meant to be handled with utmost sincerity,” saying this he very casually threw the peel of the banana, he had eaten, out of the window. I wondered, how often we fancily busy ourselves trying to 'remind' others of their duties. How often do we remind ourselves?

Very dramatically the peel landed on the main road right before a traffic policeman, who with utmost diligence was executing his duty. I could, by the movement of his arms, judge that he was sincere in his attempts. Being oblivious of the peel, he very casually stepped on it and a very expected result was him slipping. His right foot slid followed by the left and he fell with a thud, with the back of his head right on the ground. 

“Ouch! What… what was that?” shouted the traffic policeman.

His tripping over the banana peel might have been ridiculously funny for a few and for some of the others would be an opportunity to seize, to criticize the policeman’s lack of awareness and more importantly to gossip about how ‘poor’ he is at executing his duty. 

I ran, pushing past people on the road, who stood there either recording video clips of the policeman’s fall or simply giving out derisive laughs. But none of the humans present there were ‘human’ enough to help him get up and sit and offer him some water. “It was his lack of awareness!” said somebody. “Yes! Had he been monitoring vehicles on the road, he would have spotted the peel and would’ve discarded it in the bin. But people nowadays are too busy with their over-smartphones watching videos on the net,” said a gossipmonger, who was glaring at his glamourous phone himself! “Why aren’t people worried about the future of this country? A traffic policeman doesn’t have enough ‘sense’ to ‘sense’ fruit peels around him! How will he sense and guide road traffic? People aren’t even courteous enough to dispose off waste in its right place. God, I feel the future of our country is like gold, and to guard it is impossible a task even for Jaya and Vijaya, the doorkeepers of Vishnu himself!” said another passerby, who wiped sweat off his face using a tissue, and you know where the tissue went then! “Yes, yes! I feel I’m the only soul left in this country, who’s alive with a patriotic spirit. Very few genuine souls left, like us!” said another amidst the crowd of ‘genuine’ people.

How hypocritical! How ruthless! How insensitive can people be! I thought. 

I bent over and helped the policeman get up. I then ushered him to a chair and helped him sit. The crowd glanced at me, when I offered him a glass of water, as though I was some insignificant human too immature to carry out mature deeds. I felt uncomfortable but, I ignored it, for I knew I was right in my actions. All this while, as I was helping him, he couldn’t stop looking at me. At last, upon taking a glimpse of his face, I noticed a smile but, more importantly, I could observe, just like how a magnifying glass magnifies the unrecognisable, a spark of gratitude in his eyes. He then stood up and spoke. “Out of all the elderly women and men present here, how many actually thought of assisting me?” He took a short pause and then continued, “You, and you and all of you who call yourselves great patriots and upholders of truth and justice, how many of you could actually bring your great preachings into practice? It’s not as if I really wanted your help. I could’ve gotten up and helped myself. But, there’s a difference, rather a lot in merely teaching and practising. If all of you were actually worried about the country’s future, you wouldn’t have stood there, rooted to your spots and blabbered.”

There was an air of awkward silence. Everybody ‘seemed’ quiet physically but, there were a lot of thoughts running in their minds. All of them looked at me with contempt and walked away. I was shocked. Was it my fault? Was helping him wrong?

The policeman read my thoughts. “Don’t doubt yourself. What you’ve done is both extraordinary and ordinary at the same time. I can’t assure you about what opinions they might form of you. Neither you nor I have control over what people and society think, say and do, but you and I have the power to go by our conscience and not by what people consider right. But what I can assure you is that what you’ve done is commendable. Thank you.” Saying this, he walked away.

I returned home. What I saw triggered me to such an extent, that I could almost feel anger surging in me, just like the sudden rise of a tsunami in the ocean.

“Have you heard of the celebration that is going to take place on the open ground of our locality, that’s usually used for setting up children’s fairs?” said my mother excitedly.

“No, I haven’t heard of any,” said my father, sounding curious, “Which celebration and why?”

“I don’t know if it’s exactly a celebration but I do know that it is being held to reminisce the glories and great deeds of our soldiers. It is sort of a gathering for a patriotic purpose,” said my mother casually, “We’ll have to go there and listen to the mundane speeches given by the hosts, like always and finally stand like firm statues and sing the song. Which song? Yeah, the National Anthem.”

“But why suddenly? Is there something special today?” said my father, sounding annoyed, “Umm, wait! I almost forgot! Today’s 15th! 15th of August! Our Independence Day! But what’s our use there? Why must we assemble there? Many soldiers have died and they have. We all know that. What’s new? See, patriotism is an everyday job and as long as we brag about our leaders every day, it’s all right. What’s more?”

“Yeah! Nothing more! But let’s not miss our chance of getting to eat those lip-smacking kachoris and samosas and jalebis and lots of other delights at the food counter, that the hosts usually set up after the programme!”

“This is something even I like about these days of national importance! What’s better than getting to relish snacks free of cost and also sing hymns of praise for the departed souls!”

“I can actually feel the patriotic spirit rise in me! I feel indebted to Mahatma Gandhi’s contribution of freeing our country from the shackles of the British. Jai Hind! Let me quickly dress up in the best of my apparel!”

“Yes! Jai Hind!”

It was this scene that I couldn’t tolerate. How can people be so superficial in their thoughts and mindsets! I can’t stand this any longer. I must leave. I must leave this instant. I thought.

I threw open the door and ran. As I ran, I observed the atmosphere change. The sky seemed to darken. The clouds glided from their original seats and gradually covered the sun. It might rain, I thought. I could also see a large crowd of people ahead. They were all present at the ground, which was to be used for the programme. I ran all the way to the ground but, didn’t enter it. I stood outside near its rusted metal gate. From the gate, I could see the flag of our country, swaying with grace. The programme began with great pomp. It was all very patriotic. I also saw my parents seated close to the food counter. Many ‘patriots’ actually sat near the food counter, all eager to gobble down the food. It seemed that they were in unison trying to follow the proverb ‘The early bird catches the worm’. None of them wanted to miss out on any of the delights that would soon be offered at the end of the programme. I felt strange. I felt the upsurge of sorrow and pity in me. When will they change? When will they rise above this animalistic approach towards everything? ‘Do things to only satisfy your whims, your fancies and only your desires’. This is the mantra that most of us follow today. Why?

Soon, it began to rain. The programme hadn’t ended yet. As soon as the drops of rain began falling on people’s heads, they ran pushing open the gate, covering their heads, with their belongings tightly grasped in their hands. The drizzle turned into a heavy downpour. The place was left deserted. Although the cloth of the flag got completely drenched by water, it continued to sway with persistence and elegance. I continued to stare at it. Soon, the weight of the rainwater overpowered the endurance of the cloth of the flag. It was saturated. The winds blew with great might. It seemed that they were determined to set down the flag. And, my great fear took form. A tall Ashoka tree behind the flag lost against the power of the winds and the pouring, and fell, crashing straight into the flag. Unfortunately, the flag fell. I was shocked beyond words. By no means could I run to the pole of the flag to lift it. It was extremely heavy. Also, the showers were overpowering. What a disgrace! Since the place was hurriedly abandoned by the great ‘patriots’ of our country, nobody could restore the flag to its steady hold over the ground. Neither could I. It continued to pour and the flag lay there. It seemed as if the clouds were shedding tears owing to the disrespect the flag had been subjected to. How could my eyes not support the clouds in their cry? And, so they did…

Gaurav Chandra Tuli