Happy Independence Day

(Written on the occassion of Indian Independence day on 15th August )

Hello all. Good morning to all of you.
7 a.m. - As usual, my day begins with corruption. The milk man brings
me milk mixed with water. My neighbour reasons - when fodder meant for
cows does not reach the cow why should the milkman not become a water
man halfway to my house? I smile at his ‘witty’ remark and nod my head
in agreement.
10 a.m. – I leave for office and find the share auto rates have been hiked by 2 rupees.
“We are in the business of public service and it is the duty of the
public and the govt to recognize our service and hence we have hiked the
fares to demand this recognition” says the auto guy.

11.30 – I am waiting to go through a particular file but have to wait more as the
peon is away. There is an employees union sit-in and he has gone to
take part in it. He comes back an hour later, hands me the relevant
files and again goes out to the bank. He has to transfer money to …

1.30 Lunch break. There is a small function to commemorate Independence
day. The function is supposed to start at 12.30 but doesn’t due to…
Anyway, it starts by 1.30pm. A video of old newspaper clips and Nehru-
Gandhi video snippets are shown. I guess I am supposed to feel patriotic
after seeing these clips.

5.00 p.m. I leave office to find that traffic has come to a stand-still. A University student from here
was killed in Bihar. The Students’ Union here has gone for a three-hour
road blockade to protest the inaction of the State government and
demanded a CBI enquiry. Not a single vehicle is allowed to pass through
as the students squat on the road and shout slogans. To while away the
time, I get into a talk about corruption and price rise with some
colleagues. I walk to the nearby ‘general store’ where I pay 20 rupees
for an ice cream which has an m.r.p. of Rs. 15. Rs. 5 is for the luxury
of ‘cooling’ the ice cream. It is called ‘cooling charge’. Its monsoon
and the skies open up without any warning. I do not have an umbrella.
The downpour adds to the chaos. Horns are honked. I see some cops and
the red light atop an Ambassador. Finally, after some negotiations
apparently, the students decide to do away with the blockade.

6.10 pm The traffic now moves at a leisurely pace trying to rouse itself
from the inertia due to the road block. Share autos do not take in
passengers for short distances while going back in the direction of my
house. They only take passengers coming in the direction of my office.
Apparently it’s a loss for them as they tend to get more money out of a
passenger who is traveling a longer distance.

6.20 pm So I am left to fend for myself in the rain. I am completely drenched by now. I
try to hail down autos without any success. The fare from office to my house would be 40 rupees by meter. Sadly nobody plies by a meter here. I hail one auto which asks me for 120 rupees. I decline. I am getting desperate. Another guy comes to a halt and offers me the bargain price
of 100. “It is raining and there is traffic”, he reasons. I nod my subservience and get into the auto.

6.40 pm I am home despite the ‘traffic’. It is still raining. I have a visitor. It is my
neighbour’s seven-year-old boy Munu. He has a bundle of plastic Indian
flags in his hand. He wants me to help him decorate his house with them.
I smile and say, “Let’s go.”