Fifteenth August, it was a special day for me and my schoolmates in the neighborhood; we waited impatiently for this day every year, it was unlike any other day in the whole year excepting one more day which was also celebrated in almost similar fashion. I began preparations from the day before, white uniform neatly ironed, white socks and shoes thoroughly cleaned for the occasion. Then, I would go buy bread and jam especially for the next day, for it would be inconceivable to think that my mom would wake up early and prepare breakfast. Milk too, my mom approached our neighbors to preserve the extra milk that she purchased just for the occasion, in their fridge (we did not have one). Later in the night, my dad would bring the paper flag and I neatly hid it between papers in a long note book with the pin resting beside it, so I won’t waste time searching for it in the morning. And, I went to bed early, setting up my mental alarm and all the other available alarms to wake up early.
I usually didn’t wake up early, but on this day, quite surprisingly I managed to wake up before anybody else did. So I would begin by turning on the kerosene stove, which always took some effort, for the wicks would all be moist with humidity. I would waste half of a match box before the alarm wakes up my mom and soon enough she would take control of the things. First, she would dip a piece of cloth in kerosene, dab the top ends of the wicks with it and then proceed to light the stove. By now, I would have had the bowl ready with water filled up to the brim and place it over the stove. While the water heated, me and my mom would sit close to it, expose our palms to heat and press them against the cheeks and neck. I usually sat there for a longer time than needed, my mom though would leave my company after a while to wake up our neighbors, apologize duly for waking up, and return with the freezing milk. Now, as I returned from bath, my mom would present me with bread toast and milk. My mom would not let me wear my ironed white uniform without finishing up the bread and milk, so I would gulp down the contents and proceed to wear the uniform with the flag pinned up upside down (for I was never sure which was the right side, I always got it wrong).
It was only on these rare occasions that I got up early, so I was alien to the morning bliss, the fog and cold air, I found the morning beauty mesmerizing. Then my mom would walk me up to the auto stand, my friends would usually be early, so we would begin panicking in unison (for the auto guy always showed up late). We were torn between the torment of being kept at wait and the prospect of travelling in a jeep to school (for our auto guy had a jeep at his dispense and would come roaring in it when in haste and when his auto budged).
Once we were there, at school, the loudspeakers were the first thing one noticed. Although, they played the same old songs every year for the occasion, we had an inbuilt curiosity that arose on this day and as we stood in attention (height wise) on our designated lines, we felt the impulse to stay put and fully relish the freshness. Was it the morning, was it the loud speakers, was it the white uniforms, was it the flag, was it the assembly, was it the speeches that our teachers gave, was it the prizes that were distributed, strangely, it was the whole atmosphere perhaps, for one simply should have been there at that moment to experience it and none of these questions would ensue.
Every one of us listened to the same speeches every year, but the reverence to the songs shot out in blistering clarity (clarity of its own, for it always accompanied with a sort of screeching sound) was unique and it only existed on this day and this day alone. More often than not, the speakers would get carried away and we were asked to sit down after a while, and we sat down awaiting the whole pantheon to rush through their speeches. Some of the students (of a funny kind) shared the stage for a while and spoke about the martyrs that exacted to the fullest of their potential to bring about the freedom that we gathered to celebrate on that day. For a while, it all looked quite innocuous, but gradually we would start pelting small rocks at each other. Then the small rocks would turn into pieces of tin, mud, pencils or just about everything that was found in the place we sat.
We grew increasingly impatient with every speech and awaited the prize distribution ceremony (for this marked the end of the whole episode) and we applauded for every name called regardless of who it was and what was the remark proffered on the candidate. It just did not matter, for by now we were quite disheartened and we individually swore by our lives never to attend the function one more time, but we always did attend. We just were made to attend, our class teacher took care that we did. And finally we stood and marched forward to receive the bounty, it was usually a piece of sweet with a little bit of spicy mixture wrapped together into a fist sized packet. Now, some of us tore it apart the moment it was put in their hands, while others would simply walk back to the auto stand. I was the latter kind, I went home to compare the day’s bounty with that of my sister’s and my dad’s. My dad always had something better than either of us, in fact a lot better, for he brought a packet full of sweets and a small fist sized packet of sweets along with it. I never enquired at that time, only now I know that my dad too got only a fist sized packet just like me and the other packet full, he bought at the nearest sweet shop, how so ingenious.
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