In Dependance

The roads of Chennai witnessed a a new phenomenon a couple of weeks ago. Children of ages ranging from 5 to 10 swarmed the major signals of the city, which is quite common. But for a change they were not offering to wipe the dust off your windshield, or sell you clothes that could, or pointing at the 2-year old, starved baby on their hips and then extending their arm out in the universal gesture for help. Now they were holding out items which everyone felt compelled to, and were even proud of buying and displaying, and they parted with their money for the same with a broad grin. A grin of the same intensity with which they would've scowled at the same shabby-haired, ragged 6 year-olds if they had simply asked for alms.

For this time they were buying Indian flags. Pin-up varieties, stand-up varieties that you could place on your dashboard, stick-on varieties you could paste on your doors. For we are all Indians and are very proud of proclaiming that we are, especially on Independence Day.

So, there is a point to Independence Day after all. It makes the fight for survival of the 100-odd shabby-haired, ragged 6 year-olds around the city easier. It's not much, but the flags would've got them through the week. And something else would get them through the next week. And then something else. And so on and so forth, getting them through enough weeks, at least till Republic Day.