A wave of extreme patriotism in the form of relevant Bollywood songs blaring into our sleepy ears on R Day has been a pattern we resign ourselves to every year. Funnily enough, the feelings mutate into B town item numbers by evening, as if the localites have suddenly recovered from their euphoric hangover and need to belie it in some radically different avatar of expression.
On the other hand, most of us simply go back to having a relaxed Sundayish leisurely breakfast and thank heavens that the print media has dutifully brought us this day our morning alms, umm...alarms. The local club indulges a flag hoisting session with those religiously attending being rewarded with shingara and jilipi.
We also pay homage to our Puritan upbringing by convincing our son that the Republic Day parade is THE thing to watch, slyly pretending he is being granted some extra TV time. Thus, we wash our hands of our duties to our hallowed Republic.
Re-public, regarding the public, re- publicising our lack of real republican fervour in a consumer driven, EMI ridden rigmarole of a postmodern exist-tense.
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