Ἰνδία

So gorgeously looking; and ravishing delight to the senses, the snow melting on my pitiful face. I’m scrupulously wearing metal thorn fences as my crown.

Raag mein taal, rhythm and melody were conceived when gods breathed the life in me. Desi, Gora, Kala, I’m every grain of rice in your Basmati. Every spice in your Garam Masala. I’m the turmeric stains on your grandmother’s hands. I’m the mala beads slipping through her fingers like the sand through the hour glass. I’m the jigsaw puzzle made by the shattered fragments of the past. Now pieced together in the way that works for us. A billion strong and uprising and it’s impossible to ignore anymore. The interwoven chorus of Bengali, Gujrati, Kannada, Marathi, Hindi, Kashmiri, Malayalam, Nepali, Punjabi, Sindhi, Telugu, Tamil, Urdu, Ginger, Chili, and Garlic. I’m Brahmin, Kshatriya, Dalit; touch me for I’m no longer untouchable. I’m capable, practically inescapable and no longer unaccountable. I’m your programmer, I’m your accountant, I’m your 24*7 service for western companies. I’m the chai, latte, and the mochaccino that the chaiwallah now serves on the streets. I am the one who sings “Tumi ho Mata Hindustan” as I smoke beedis’, chew pan and watch Bollywood movies starring Shahrukh Khan and Rajnikanth. Remixing pranayama by whispering “Blue eyes hypnotize kardi hai menu “under my breath.

Starting from my lad ‘Zero’ I also have nurtured complex equations of Algebra, Trigonometry and Calculus. I was laden with gold, diamonds and all things glittery, but “THEY” stripped me away. My partition unleashed an episode of brutal depravity, the wounds on my body created an invisible gap between humanity. My daughters victimized, tortured and raped -were stripped and paraded down streets. But after that the great night arrived! Midnight of 15th August, 1947 I got freedom at midnight! No matter how, intolerant people think I am, or how patient I am in the times of real aggressive calling, I am still admired for the strength that I display into harboring the needs of my sons and daughters. My daughters make me proud, there’s fire in her eyes, and joy in her feet, she’s phenomenally phenomenal woman. My sons I see you standing among them all standing so strong, proud and tall. I’m here to say, to let you know that you are loved, I know the things you sacrifice to keep me free.

Profound, primitive, superstitious my bits are spread all over the world. I’m the impoverished child that cleans the windshield and bangs the window of your BMW, and I’m also the man who instead of giving him money or food simply says “Are Wahh!”. I’m the Sarasvati whose veena was then remixed into the shape of a guitar. Just like “OM Bhur Bhuwas Swaha” and Ta Tiri Kiti Ta of tabla became two turns disk DJ and a mixer console. I’m the forbidden love between Bharatanatyam and a pop lock dance. I’m the unsanctioned love marriage between Michael Jackson’s “Dangerous” and Bella Shende’s “Apsara Alli”. I’m the ultra-modern deal with denim jeans under Kurta and Salwar Kameez.

In the land of Ustad AliAkbar Khan and Kaun Banega Crorepati, Krishnamurthy, Vivekananda, Tagore, Abdul Kalam and Aurandathi, and pop bellied elephant headed superhero Ganpati. I’m that Muslim kid who dresses up to play Ram in Ramayana.  I’m a secular with a cosmopolitan soul. I am the monk’s saffron robes, I am the scent of the cinnamon, cardamom, and clove.

I am a survivor who is driving up in a drive to progress. I am the distressed heart of Delhi, Calcutta’s cloaked streets, Bombay’s blocked arteries, Chennai’s flooded houses and accumulation of stress.

Yes “I am INDIA !!!”.