Forget Not the Other Companions - repost

23rd Jan came and went by, and went by as usual, unnoticed by the majority of the populace. The day to remember a great hero, and all that we can do, as a nation, is a small 10 inch column in The Hindu and maybe a garland or two on a dusty statue.

A repost of a commentary I had written a year back - a repost to reflect the recurring neglect of a rightful hero
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And so did it come about that there was this mountain that they had to cross. There was no way around, no way to skirt the obstacle. So they began exploring possible ways of surmounting the mountain. “Let’s mine through it, after all what’s a mountain to a rat?”said one. “No, is there a better route than the aerial one? Let’s take to wings and prove that insurmountability is a matter of perspective” said the second. Countered the third “Say what you may but I prefer my legs – short though they are, over many a rough mile they have carried me.” And so they parted, each his own way, the destination being the same nonetheless. No doubts need be harboured, all of them homed onto their destination and met up at their favourite watering hole.
Ask me then, which was a better path? The rat bit its way through the underbelly of the earth – a lot of mud shifting and pain it involved, for the earth at least. The dog trudged along, burdening the hills and dales with his not inconsiderable weight. And as for the aerial companion, oh what a glorious flight; but what if the mountain was too tall? Rarified atmospheric conditions would have meant that the glorious flight ended in doom. So ask again, which was a better path? Or was there a better path? The rat couldn’t have flown, how much so ever he wanted to abjure from injury. The dog couldn’t have burrowed inspite of its best intentions and the bird would have to fly, no matter what.
The destination was the same – Independent India, each took to it as was in him – be it hurting the opponents underbelly, trudging over his mighty head or soaring high above. There were, and neither are, no comparatives amongst the paths taken; to claim one glorious and other ignominious is but a display of dull wit. “Different folks, Different strokes” I would say. Don’t mistake the metaphor; for rat, dog and bird are but examples and it is with greatest respect I take the names of our founding fathers. Yet why is it that Gandhiji is glorified, Nehru remembered and Subhas Chandra Bose is but consigned to a footnote in the memory of the nation? Refuse to believe this? How many of us honoured his memory on his birthday (23 Jan) with atleast a passing thought of gratitude? Of course, many of us would be hard pressed to explain the reason behind Dry Day on Oct 2nd; scarcity of alcohol due to increasing acceptance of drinking by the majority of our huge numbers would figure as the logical reason.
So what’s your take, you might ask? Why do you turn into an eternal didactic bore of maniacal proportions at the drop of a hat, you ask me. I have this to say, that maybe we are forgetting Bose because when, as Bomi Irani aptly put it in 3 Idiots “No one remembers who came the second” in today’s world, would we remember he who almost, but couldn’t make it?; that his was a fell choice, but choose he did, and against all odds strove to mine the roots of the earth to ensure that sun sets over the Empire; that we have to honour his memory; we cannot afford to turn a blind eye – if we forget our nation’s best sons, maybe our sons will find no reason to scale the peak of superlatives and we would be cursed with mediocrity, forever.
We don’t require another holiday; no we do not desire one. What we require is that his memory is held sacred, his ideals followed and his bravery emulated. We require that his dream is realized and he is talked about, for when darkness engulfed, he rode out in glory, stood tall in wrecked battlefields, all to keep his promises.