<p>As the country marks its 79th Independence Day, city-based artists, activists and thinkers share their thoughts on the restrictions they continue to face.</p>.<p><strong>‘Lack of public spaces’</strong></p><p>V Ravichandar<br>Urbanist and civic evangelist</p>.<p>“What I find most shackling is the lack of public and community spaces — for children to play, families to gather, and arts and culture to thrive. In Bengaluru, the outdoor spaces are shrinking, access to parks is limited, and green spaces are disappearing. My grandchildren no longer have access to the kind of public spaces I enjoyed 60 years ago. This restricts not only play and creativity but also the shared cultural life of the city.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Limited mobility’</strong></p><p>Priya Varadarajan<br>Gender rights activist and founder of Durga India</p>.<p>“Poor roads, terrible traffic, and unsafe public transport limit my ability to move around freely. My gender identity adds another layer of restriction — lack of safety prevents me from accessing spaces whenever I want to. These factors confine my independence, and ability to connect with the world on my own terms.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Can’t donate blood’</strong></p><p>Priyank Asha Sukanand<br>Founder of Queer Collective India</p>.<p>“Since I am a gay man, I am not allowed to donate blood in India. In a recent hospitalisation incident, I was turned away from donating blood. This ban is rooted in a stereotype that gay men are primary carriers of HIV, ignoring both science and ethics. Every unit of blood is tested before transfusion, making this policy unnecessary and discriminatory. For me, this is not just a legal barrier, it’s a deeply personal pain.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Loss of personal freedom’</strong></p><p>Arundhati Raja<br>Theatre personality and founder-trustee of Jagriti Theatre</p>.<p>“I am currently directing ‘The House of Bernarda Alba’, a play written by Federico Garcia Lorca. And it is making me think a lot about loss of freedom — not the political kind, but personal freedom. It’s the kind that comes from constraints in relationships or family, where your choices, creativity, or even thoughts are limited. It’s imposed by the people closest to you, and seeps into every aspect of life.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Balancing act’</strong></p><p>Arun Javgal<br>Kannada language activist</p>.<p>“Pro-Kannada and Karnataka activism has always been my passion, but I am tied by my responsibilities — running my household and a small IT company. I come from a modest background, and I must provide for my family while navigating business uncertainties, technological advancements, and shifting political landscapes. I often cannot dedicate myself entirely to the cause. Every day is, thus, a balancing act between responsibility and passion.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Artists often self-censor’</strong></p><p>Suresh Jayaram<br>Artist, curator and author</p>.<p>“Unwritten rules and censorship often shackle artists like me. An example is the unwritten rules about what can or cannot be represented in art — it could relate to nudity, religion, or anything that the public or authorities could consider obscene or unworthy of depiction. In such situations, artists often self-censor, choosing oblique ways to communicate ideas through metaphors. This unseen pressure causes creative challenges not just for me but for anyone trying to freely represent the world.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Burden of social expectations’</strong></p><p>Laxmi Chandrashekar<br>Theatre artiste and actor</p>.<p>“As a woman, my freedom is constrained by safety concerns and social expectations. Travelling late at night for performances or rehearsals brings the fear of being attacked. At the same time, I feel the pressure to prioritise my duties as a wife and mother due to the weight of society’s expectations, though I have support. Social judgement, especially from neighbours, has also affected me. Even now, these fears and responsibilities often shape the choices I make.”</p>
<p>As the country marks its 79th Independence Day, city-based artists, activists and thinkers share their thoughts on the restrictions they continue to face.</p>.<p><strong>‘Lack of public spaces’</strong></p><p>V Ravichandar<br>Urbanist and civic evangelist</p>.<p>“What I find most shackling is the lack of public and community spaces — for children to play, families to gather, and arts and culture to thrive. In Bengaluru, the outdoor spaces are shrinking, access to parks is limited, and green spaces are disappearing. My grandchildren no longer have access to the kind of public spaces I enjoyed 60 years ago. This restricts not only play and creativity but also the shared cultural life of the city.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Limited mobility’</strong></p><p>Priya Varadarajan<br>Gender rights activist and founder of Durga India</p>.<p>“Poor roads, terrible traffic, and unsafe public transport limit my ability to move around freely. My gender identity adds another layer of restriction — lack of safety prevents me from accessing spaces whenever I want to. These factors confine my independence, and ability to connect with the world on my own terms.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Can’t donate blood’</strong></p><p>Priyank Asha Sukanand<br>Founder of Queer Collective India</p>.<p>“Since I am a gay man, I am not allowed to donate blood in India. In a recent hospitalisation incident, I was turned away from donating blood. This ban is rooted in a stereotype that gay men are primary carriers of HIV, ignoring both science and ethics. Every unit of blood is tested before transfusion, making this policy unnecessary and discriminatory. For me, this is not just a legal barrier, it’s a deeply personal pain.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Loss of personal freedom’</strong></p><p>Arundhati Raja<br>Theatre personality and founder-trustee of Jagriti Theatre</p>.<p>“I am currently directing ‘The House of Bernarda Alba’, a play written by Federico Garcia Lorca. And it is making me think a lot about loss of freedom — not the political kind, but personal freedom. It’s the kind that comes from constraints in relationships or family, where your choices, creativity, or even thoughts are limited. It’s imposed by the people closest to you, and seeps into every aspect of life.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Balancing act’</strong></p><p>Arun Javgal<br>Kannada language activist</p>.<p>“Pro-Kannada and Karnataka activism has always been my passion, but I am tied by my responsibilities — running my household and a small IT company. I come from a modest background, and I must provide for my family while navigating business uncertainties, technological advancements, and shifting political landscapes. I often cannot dedicate myself entirely to the cause. Every day is, thus, a balancing act between responsibility and passion.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Artists often self-censor’</strong></p><p>Suresh Jayaram<br>Artist, curator and author</p>.<p>“Unwritten rules and censorship often shackle artists like me. An example is the unwritten rules about what can or cannot be represented in art — it could relate to nudity, religion, or anything that the public or authorities could consider obscene or unworthy of depiction. In such situations, artists often self-censor, choosing oblique ways to communicate ideas through metaphors. This unseen pressure causes creative challenges not just for me but for anyone trying to freely represent the world.”</p>.<p><strong>‘Burden of social expectations’</strong></p><p>Laxmi Chandrashekar<br>Theatre artiste and actor</p>.<p>“As a woman, my freedom is constrained by safety concerns and social expectations. Travelling late at night for performances or rehearsals brings the fear of being attacked. At the same time, I feel the pressure to prioritise my duties as a wife and mother due to the weight of society’s expectations, though I have support. Social judgement, especially from neighbours, has also affected me. Even now, these fears and responsibilities often shape the choices I make.”</p>