How I Learned to Love My Society’s I-Day Celebration

“What is this yaar? From where will I get a white kurta, green chooridaar and an orange dupatta?” asked my mother, rather angrily, a day before the dreaded society Independence Day celebration. This was the year 2019. Ideally, I and my mother would have skipped the event had it not been for the constant pinging and spamming on society WhatsApp groups but sometimes you just can’t get out of things. From elaborate dress rehearsals, to loud chaotic music, bad catering to the mandatory flag unfurling – Independence Day celebrations have been a constant fix in my society, and though I hated them at first, the pandemic did the one thing I never thought it would – make me miss them.

Independence day is the only time of the year when society management committees do something substantial – just like the HR department in MNCs which becomes hyperactive during Diwali.

Independence day is the only time of the year when society management committees do something substantial – just like the HR department in MNCs which becomes hyperactive during Diwali. Pride doesn’t come easily to Indians who spend the year complaining about the country they have inherited. I’m part of this clan too, but on Independence day it seems that serendipitously, everything just comes together. People, you’ve never even seen or heard sound like they’ve always known you. The festivities themselves, however, have never been easy to comply with. Not to mention they rarely look or sound different than the last time you’ve witnessed one.

There’s a performance of Des Rangeela with choreography bordering on chaos, an off-key rendition of ‘We Shall Overcome’, and of course there is the rousing, noisest ‘Suno Gaur Se Duniya Waalo’. Even the samosas, the chai and the break pakoda has never quite tasted different from the last time you had it. I’d always lived in denial, almost disgust that people continue to repeat the same thing over and over again. At least on festivals, you could change the things you eat, the people you celebrate it with or simply re-imagine how you’ll go about it. The Independence celebration in comparison felt like an encore, almost an echo that at times it felt, could just be replayed from the year before. That is, until the pandemic happened.

The change we always yearned for, had come, but it felt incomplete, ludicrously awkward to not see the same faces, to not hear the same songs, and to not watch the flag raised by something from amongst us, common, maybe even forgotten citizens of this country.

We had the I-Day event on Zoom (yes, really) both in 2020 and 2021 – the flag was hoisted using MS Paint, the choir sang on call (their Internet froze twice while singing). The anchor got up at one point exposing his Mickey Mouse. There were no snacks, no loud music – just 50 odd people on a Zoom call. The change we always yearned for, had come, but it felt incomplete, ludicrously awkward to not see the same faces, to not hear the same songs, and to not watch the flag raised by something from amongst us, common, maybe even forgotten citizens of this country.

Democratic countries can also be isolationist. You redeem your value, like a coupon, the one time you vote in five years. But the I-day is a reminder that we exist, and the nation exists because of us. In countries where the future might always look bleak or uncertain, people rely on people, and they instil faith in unofficial systems of dependence. The kind that Independence day celebrations restore. I can’t forget the face of the old men and women who were asked to unfurl the flag. Amidst everything that annoyed it me, it was a moment that made me wish I’d get the opportunity to do the same. Honour can sometimes also be shared for those who aren’t bestowed with it. It’s a small, harmless gesture, but on that one day, in a year spent in anonymity someone can finally feel bigger than they ever have.

But the I-day is a reminder that we exist, and the nation exists because of us. In countries where the future might always look bleak or uncertain, people rely on people, and they instil faith in unofficial systems of dependence.

I’m glad that this year, my society and the dreaded RWA, has decided to go bigger, louder and spared no expense. We have suffered for two years, a time when we felt insecure, uncertain and at one point even felt unsafe. Visible enemies automatically bring people together, but when the antagonist is invisible, it takes the furthest leap of faith to keep the fabric of a country together. It’s why a common man or a woman, possibly look forward to that one day when India ceases to be a nation fraught with issues, poverty, conflict and so much more. No country exists without fault, but I now understand why it is important maybe to celebrate countries despite them. Celebrate the lives we have, the battles we have one and the ones we are gearing for. It’s not the same without the samosa and the chai. It never will be.