Pride and glory make the flag

Sanjeev Trikha 

My name is Tricolour. I am the proud identity of my country. It is often said a mere glance at me is enough to give goosebumps to my countrymen. I am not just a piece of cloth, as every thread weaved into me symbolises the bond with my countrymen. I brew within me a distinct feeling of privilege, being what I am. I derive immense pleasure when I get hoisted amid the singing of the National Anthem on various occasions, and the whole country looks towards me, their heads held high. I shall remain thankful to those who have provided me with such esteemed moments of glory. 

Each of my three colours oozes a subtle message of development, growth and peace for humanity. It hurts me when people conveniently overlook the true message of my colours and sinfully refurbish and concoct the message that suits their vested designs. I find myself suffocated when confined to the cosmetic sheen, the false attire and the ornamental facade lent to me by today’s breed of politicians, leading or misleading our country. My parents are all those freedom fighters who have nurtured my existence with their supreme sacrifices, unmatched zeal and undying passion. My guardian is anyone who keeps the love and pride of our beloved Nation ahead of any vested interest and cajoles it on the canons of honesty, justice and morality.

I kvell when I am made to fly high on the Everest. I am on cloud nine when worn by the proud winners at victory podiums. I feel on top of the world when our brave soldiers do not hesitate to lay down their lives to keep me afloat. My pleasure and pride knows no bounds and my contours glow in the glitter of the true spirit of karma when I am held in the soil-stained hands of a labourer. At times, I accompany the coffins of our martyrs. I do not want to experience such moments, yet whenever such moments of grief arrive, I feel privileged to be with the martyrs and their family. I hope that my presence ignites the spark of positivity and hope among countrymen in that moment of despair.

But I dislike being put on the bonnet of the cars of corrupt political leaders. The wind bruises my pride and a rage brews within me. I am pushed into deep concern when I find my importance being restricted to specific days. Am I just a product? Am I not a feeling or a spirit which is empowered to drive a distinct rejuvenation among the masses? Nevertheless, I am a source of livelihood for the poor on those days. I try to give solace to my hurt pride.

 It is my humble appeal to not limit my existence to only Independence or Republic Day. I want to dwell inside the sweat, blood, heart and soul of my countrymen, every day, and every moment. I want to flutter freely. Only then will you find my true colours disseminating the spirit I proudly live in.