To my daughter, August 15th has been just another day: another school assignment, maybe an outing with friends, a visit to the movies, or catching up on chores and reading. When I remind her about the significance of the day, she just says, “Oh” and shrugs; then seeing my face, she adds, “Cool.” She has no idea about the immense pride and the twinge of heartache associated with this date for all of us who grew up on the other side of the globe, and then, for various reasons, trotted away. I do not blame the American culture for my daughter’s indifference: Dr. Martin Luther King was American and the lessons of our country’s struggle for independence we

In fact, if truth be told, there have been mornings when I too, have forgotten this date until I glanced at the calendar at work, midway through my first cup of coffee.  Then, I look outside the window, and a few minutes later, the moment passes, leaving me a little more fragile, lost, and guilty.



This situation is easier to relate to if one is not an active member of an Indian subculture of the town, or cannot always attend the melas and festivities held at a neighboring park on a weekend nearest to August 15th. Those of us who do attend, come away with very happy, if hectic memories of a nice day spent at the park, of the delight at seeing our kids perform dances and songs that we remember from our childhood, but which are not any “real” part of our kids’ daily preoccupations with i-phones, i-pods, and wii.

Most young people I meet are astonishingly unaware of the large ocean of history they carry on their backs.  This alarms me more every time August 15th rolls around. I wonder if the celebrations of Independence Day succeed in impressing upon the younger generation the implications of the blood, sweat, and obsession involved in getting our country independent.  And I know dressing up Indian garb and indulging in the foods and music of my country is usually a rather narcissistic, nostalgic trip down memory lane, which leaves me and my daughter slightly apart.  I suspect this might not be all that August 15th is about.

So the question about making August 15th significant is not limited to participation in community activities, though those do help in making the day memorable for the young generation, and I must confess I enjoy them immensely.  I believe this date should demand some introspection, some opportunity for self-questioning and self-realization. This date should be etched much deeper than our communal calendars. We claim to live in a world that is getting smaller every day and our conversations are sprinkled with phrases like “global consciousness.” Celebration of our country’s independence should have a place in this global consciousness, and a global identity begins with a frank mirror.

We, the survivors of the last millennium, need to celebrate and remember the ideals for which our country chose to sacrifice its willing youth, even tear itself apart in one of the bloodiest events in world history, rather than endure colonization. We need to ask ourselves if we are worthy inheritors, if we do, indeed, practice the extraordinary but basic principles of tolerance and equality, or if we cling to toxic stereotypes of “their kind” versus “our kind” in our approaches to the melting pot of ethnicities, communities, and cultures we find ourselves in the midst of today, in our global village. We need to keep in mind the Indian tricolor and the ties that bind such varied hues in common ideals when we hum along with “Vande Mataram” and teach our children to lisp and warble “Jana Gana Mana.”

After all, if there is one lesson history teaches us, it is that we can ill-afford to let our children forget it, lest they be condemned to repeat it.