I have been watching Republic day parades since my childhood. The earliest recollection is when I walked along my father through the Ridge (there was no transport available then) to reach Vijay Chowk and then further down to the point across the saluting base for a better view. The sight of our president and the distinguished guests alighting from the horse-drawn black buggy is still fresh in my memory. I had little interest in the military machines or the soldiers marching past like immaculate boxes. I stood on my toes to get a better look at the dancing children and , the tableaux depicting different States. When the helicopters spraying rose petals arrived, the neck turned upwards and the eyes shaded with my palm till the shrieking, screaming aircraft filled the sky intermittently , some of which shot straight into the sky leaving trails of colours of our national flag. As we left the spot in a hurry to avoid crowds, hundreds of balloons burst upwards into the air and I kept turning my head just in case one of them came down within my reach. It never happened.
As years rolled by, I was lucky to participate in the prestigious parade twice. The excitement was palpable and electric on both the occasions. The discomfort of being made to sit on the tarmac near Vijay Chowk before daybreak disappeared as I marched down the Rajpath towards the National Stadium with a sense of pride.
In 2003, I was watching the same parade on TV while the rest of the family slept on. President A.P. J. Abdul Kalam sat impassively while recipients of several bravery awards were summoned to receive their prizes. One of them was a young widow whose husband had been martyred in the service of the nation. She stood dressed in white at some distance facing the President while a long citation detailing the heroic deed of her spouse was read. Finally her name was called out and the President rose to hand over the citation and the medal to her when she walked closer to him. The ceremony made me feel very uncomfortable.
I decided to write to the President. It almost looked as if the widow of the martyr was an accused waiting for a judgement to be pronounced. I took the liberty to suggest to the President that either he should also stand once the widow of the martyr arrived on the scene. This will be chivalrous and would also show respect to the departed soul. Alternatively, the widow should be called only after the citation has been read. I was not sure if my suggestion would even be considered. About a fortnight later, I received a thick envelop from Rashtrapati Bhavan. It contained a letter signed by the Hon’ble Mr. Kalam himself. It thanked me for the letter and the suggestion. What took the cake was an insertion in his hand stating, “I agree, in future it will be avoided.” He kept his word.
As years rolled by, I was lucky to participate in the prestigious parade twice. The excitement was palpable and electric on both the occasions. The discomfort of being made to sit on the tarmac near Vijay Chowk before daybreak disappeared as I marched down the Rajpath towards the National Stadium with a sense of pride.
In 2003, I was watching the same parade on TV while the rest of the family slept on. President A.P. J. Abdul Kalam sat impassively while recipients of several bravery awards were summoned to receive their prizes. One of them was a young widow whose husband had been martyred in the service of the nation. She stood dressed in white at some distance facing the President while a long citation detailing the heroic deed of her spouse was read. Finally her name was called out and the President rose to hand over the citation and the medal to her when she walked closer to him. The ceremony made me feel very uncomfortable.
I decided to write to the President. It almost looked as if the widow of the martyr was an accused waiting for a judgement to be pronounced. I took the liberty to suggest to the President that either he should also stand once the widow of the martyr arrived on the scene. This will be chivalrous and would also show respect to the departed soul. Alternatively, the widow should be called only after the citation has been read. I was not sure if my suggestion would even be considered. About a fortnight later, I received a thick envelop from Rashtrapati Bhavan. It contained a letter signed by the Hon’ble Mr. Kalam himself. It thanked me for the letter and the suggestion. What took the cake was an insertion in his hand stating, “I agree, in future it will be avoided.” He kept his word.
1 comment:
As memorials for late Dr. Kalam come up both in TN & Delhi,this post comes alive once again. Rare it must be for a prez to respond to, accept & act on a commoner' suggestion. I feel privileged and am glad the widows of our gallant soldiers no longer have to go through that ordeal.
I salute Dr. Kalam for his sincerity, fortitude & humility.
May his soul rest in eternal peace!
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