Patriotism has no religion

This story is of a patriotic boy. He had taught me a striking lesson with his simple act, which I still remember even after 22 years. Bengaluru, in early 2000s, wasn’t a gluttonous city gulping every village in its periphery. It had less than 100 wards against today’s 198 (slated to be 243 soon). Hence it is not surprising that many areas of Bengaluru still have suffixes like Halli or Pura in their names.

Bangalore Transport Service (BTS) had graciously run at least one bus from each of these villages on the periphery of the city. In the absence of Metro or expensive personal transport, buses were an essential, and only, mode of transport available for the working class and students to commute. Hence, these village-route buses were full beyond their capacity, sometimes carrying three times their actual capacity.

We, the students, the future of young India, were well-trained to get our share of seats by some means. With almost no breathing space and the air thick with pungent, sweaty smell, at least four people sat on seats meant for just two.

On the way to our Government Science college, there were two two government schools we had to cross towards the northern side. And school students sang the national anthem twice a day.

As soon as the sound of school children singing the national anthem reached our ears, one of my friends stood up suddenly and wouldn’t sit till the anthem faded away completely.

We expressed our disgruntlement initially as we had to readjust ourselves to offer him the space to stand. He did this every time the bus time coincided with the national anthem.

We neither showed any motivation to join him nor did he pursue us to join him in this ritual. My friend, Sheik Mohammed, rose to attention in the bus almost like it was a sacred ritual even though, as passengers in a moving bus, the sound of the anthem reached us abruptly.

I don’t know who taught him that he should pay his respect to the national anthem even in a crowded bus. But for sure, he was more Indian than any of us. I don’t know where Sheik Mohammed is now. But I haven’t stopped asking my college classmates about him. I wish his psyche is not dented by the majoritarian polity prevailing in the country now.