A Time For Celebration

         

  

             An Emotion Unjustified! 

Go decorate the locality with flowers of gold! Distribute sweets and savories all around! I ran hysterically from one corner to the other as I received a news: one which hid dual emotions. My family members ran behind me to get a hold of me, a hold over my emotions which flowed incessantly without any restraint, like rivers of blood flowing out of a battlefield. My mother caught me and slapped me across my face. I fell across the street. “Are you mad! How insensitive can you be, you’re a heartless brother, deeming it appropriate to celebrate the death of your martyr brother? I am grieved with unfortune to be your mother”. I got out of her hold and ran to my uncle to distributed sweets, while he looked at me with disgust. The whole surrounding appealed negatively to my character and demeaned me to be a psychic. It didn’t affect me. My brother had left for Kargil a day before my birthday, I remember till date how frustrated I was on this decision of his. I loved him dearly, I guess the most of all. When I had questioned him about this decision of his, he reminded me of something very important, one thought which completely changed my perception towards nationalism. He said, “Our country had witnessed great sacrifices of numerous freedom fighters like Gandhiji, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, Bhagat Singh to name a few. They remained hungry for days, some sacrificed themselves for their country, despite any fault of theirs. Our people were tortured, given miserable food, made to work like animals and mercilessly tortured by our colonizers in jails and they suffered recklessly without uttering a word. Have you thought why? Because they wanted that their future generations live their lives independently. So now, can we not pay a tribute to their sacrifices by doing something for our nation? Even if I have to sacrifice my life, I would consider it my fortune to take my last breath in the laps of Bharat Mata, the mother of valorous and diverse leaders of our country.” These words shook me from within. When I received the news of my brother’s demise in the war, as a martyr, I was grieved (a small word to describe the intensity of my emotions) immensely and my heart cried tears of blood. But it was only then that my brother appeared before me. He reminded me of his fortune of sacrificing himself for his nation and gave me the responsibility to pay him his last tributes wrapped in the national flag and take care of our family, which was now my responsibility. I rushed through the streets in search of happiness, patriotism and pride, but was left with despise and negativity. That did not affect me. I took a basket of rose petals and proudly showered them over my brother, rather, a brave soldier of the nation and saluted his bravery. As I raised my hand, tears filled my eyes, a mixture of duality: pride and pain. I quickly wiped them and brought a smile on my face to ensure that my brother left the world happily. He loved me the most, Me too, But the nation was, is and will forever be the blood in our veins!