The Tricolour (Creative Writing)

India. Bharat. Hindustan.
The land of myriad cultures, faiths, cuisines and lifestyles.
Home to 1.3 billion people, who speak a plethora of tongues and share sundry values and yet, are united by one symbol – the Tiranga. The sense of belongingness – the sharing of a common identity – that arises from seeing the Tricolour flying is what comprises PRIDE. The three stripes embodying our emotions and the Ashok Chakra delineating our stride forward.

Saffron for courage and selflessness, so close to the colour of the blood, of our martyrs. Like the sun setting in Gujarat; or the eternal flame burning at the India Gate, as a constant reminder of those who laid down their lives, for us, while those at the border continue to do so. Weird, as it may seem, it reminds me of the bindi worn by my mother, perhaps attributing to the sacrificial nature of a mother.

White denotes peace and purity. One cannot help but picture the Dove – a universal symbol of peace. From the rice grains of Punjab to the cotton fields of Maharashtra; the Himalayan peaks or the broad smiles – white is more than just a colour.

The Green band signifies prosperity and fertility. The image that comes to mind is that of the green fields that kids run through, the Tea Gardens in Assam, the forests and the vegetative cover on the mountains – the land is embayed in greenery. Subtly hinting at the farmers that toil day in and day out – the men we owe our daily bread to.

The Ashok Chakra- the Wheel of Dharma – portrays motion with regard to virtues. Resembling the vast rivers, or, the one, blue sky we are under, the Chakra has its own sentimental value.

Reciting the school pledge, that began with, “India is my country. All Indians are my brothers and sisters,” every morning; or the rising of the heads in pride on seeing the flag hoisted, while experiencing a rush of emotions, flowing through the body. Leaving whatever work one is doing and standing in attention, when the national anthem starts playing, or the prayers sung in times of crisis of our countrymen. We are all Indian at heart. Gauri, Amy, Zoya or Sukhman. Whether we eat dhoklas, fish, idlis or chhole-bhature; whether we speak Tamil, Assamese, Punjabi or Marwari; whatever socio-cultural, economic, regional, family background we may come from- we are still, at heart, Indians- sons and daughters of the same motherland.

Truly said, then, “Saare Jahan Se Accha, Hindustan Hamara.” My humble salute to the motherland!!

[Image and write up by me.]

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