I Do Not Remember My Country

I do not remember my Country

Yet I live in it,

I do not remember Kargil

Yet I tolerated it,

When my best friend’s dad

Was shot dead

In the middle

Of snowy white glaciers

On an unknown peak.

I do not remember paying,

Two rupee to the beggar,

Smiling toothlessly,

Across the yellow-black taxi gate.

But,

I remember the toothless smile,

Of the flower seller at Dadar West.

Her radiant eyes,

When quintals of pink lotuses,

Were picked instantly to buy.

I do not remember when

'I Love India' T-shirts came to the market,

I didn’t really care,

I didn’t want to share,

My feelings of love,

Or hate about this Nation,

About which I really cared.

I do not remember when

Sonia Gandhi single handedly,

Pulled Congress back to its glorious position.

But I do remember Vajpayee’s concern,

About BJP’s secularism.

I do not remember when

My local market,

Started selling ‘American Pears’

And hilsa fish at six hundred per kg

Stuck, stamped and stickered

‘Export Quality’ across card board crates.

But,

I remember the beautiful stamps

Of Gandhi, Subhash, Nehru…

And them being immortal

On letters sent across to Peru.

I do not remember when

Fair and Handsome

Entered the Indian Markets,

And promised to change

The skin colour of masses,

Muted Masses,

Who once found pride in

Their Asian Skin.

But I remember C.R.Y.

And all that it stood for

And how they used C.S.R

To build business and health

And save young lives.

I do not remember when

Babri Masjid was demolished,

Or what Anand Patwardhan said

About it.

Whether they were

Hindus or Muslims,

Who traveled from Ayodhya,

Or the local Masjids.

But,

I do remember

Bal Thackeray’s grandson

Writing poems for peace.

I do not remember when

I lost the power to believe

In me,

You,

India,

Or the people who killed

Graham Staines mercilessly.

I do not remember when

My father went to Commonwealth Games,

To try his hand at public commentary,

And was rejected only because

His title sounded like a Sardarji.

But,

I do remember

People holding candles,

And praying silently,

When Jessica was killed.

I think I want to remember

My Country,

With all its eccentricities.

Because if life is not a bed of roses,

Then how can my Country be?