The Barpali Days

Tiranga fur, furh, furhhh……..

These days our patriotism is restricted only to sharing the image of the National Flag either in Facebook or Whatsapp. Most of us share it only on two schedule dates, either on Republic Day or Independence Day. The new breed of youngsters seldom read the history books to learn how our great Oriya hero’s sacrificed their lives to free India from the clutches of British raj. Seldom you might have ever heard the names of Oriya martyrs be it Madho Singh Bariha, Rindo Majhi, Jai Rajguru or be it Lakshmana Naik. But for many of us our national flag Tiranga is not just a piece of cloth, we adore it a lot by heart. When the National Anthem is telecasted in televisions, with a sense of admiration most of us stand on the floor. We have inculcated such values from the primary school, where we have been taught the basic alphabets of our own vernacular.

Now the present generation of kids has got ample stationery to play with. They spend enormous money to buy the colorful stickers, glowing tattoos, panoramic post cards and all the garbage. Whereas during the late 70’s of the last Century, I was virtually brought up in a black and white era. Indian economy was in the doldrums. Only on the week days I was getting 10 Paise as the pocket tips while going to school. That money was not enough either to buy an eraser, a pencil or to fill the ink in the fountain pen at the book store.

Since childhood I was fascinated by our National Flag “Tiranga” merely because of its tri color and for a blue wheel at the centre of it. One evening I was walking along with my mother to the market. On the way at a junction of the town there was a gathering of people. They were shouting as “जिंदाबाद जिंदाबाद” which means, hip hip hurray. I left the hand of my mother and stood there while saluting towards the gathering. My mother looked backward and asked “What this ridiculous thing you are doing ?”. I pointed my little finger towards a tricolor flag. She laughed at me saying “You stupid, every tricolor is not a Tiranga. Look there is a palm of a hand at the centre. And it’s not our Tiranga, rather the flag of the Indian National Congress (INC) party”. She said a tri color flag with a wheel at the centre is only our National Flag. I scratch my head and followed my mother. She is the first teacher in my life, who has invoked patriotism in me.

While I was attending the primary school at Khalikote, the Physical Education teacher was endowed with the responsibility to hang the National Flag either on 15^th August or 26^th January. A day before these two schedule dates he would collect the National Flag from the wooden cupboard of the Head Master’s office. Religiously he would undertake the job of washing it with a detergent cake and dripping it in the indigo blue so as the white portion of the flag would glow. Hours before the flag hoisting the PT teacher would stuff the flag with the petals of roses and a short of non-fragrance tropical white flowers called Tabernaemontana divaricata and a dozen chocolates.

On the eve of the celebrations we the students use to stand straight in a row. When the flag hoisted we would sing the National Anthem “Janagana mana adhinayaka jaya he, Bharata bhagya bidhata…………” while placing the right hand on the forehead by saluting. While singing the National Anthem the kids on the front row would use to look at the base of the iron pillar instead of looking at the National Flag. Why? Because along with the petals of the flowers, the flag has been stuffed with one or two dozen pieces of 5 Paise Parle’s orange candies and they as well use to drop on the ground. When the singing of the National Anthem would end with the last stanza “jaya he, jaya he, jaya he……jaya, jaya, jaya, jaya he” we all the kids would break the Code of Conduct and run towards the flag post to collect the orange candies that fell on the ground along with the flowers. My batch mate Motu use to grab a couple of candies as he was a hefty boy and use to overpower others.

I recalls yet another event of my childhood associated with the National Flag of India. It was during the early eighties of the last Century. Than I was a student of Class Five in a Oriya primary school at village Khalikote of Ganjam district of Odisha, India. This school was set up in the premises of royal palace of Khalikote. On this palace apart from the primary school, there exists a fine art college as well. Once somehow I accessed a paper Tiranga. With care I kept that in the school notebook. Next day I carried it to school and proudly showed my possession to my classmates. But Chaitu the hooligan boy of our class grabbed the flag from my hands. I caught hold of his shirt, so as he should not escape with my property. But in a retaliation he caught my hair on the head. He pulled my hair and I was in acute pain. I left his shirt and caught hold of his hair as well and grabbed it. We both were wrestling on the floor of the classroom holding the head of each other. While watching us the rest of the classmates were clapping and shouting as if they were watching a wrestling bout. In the meanwhile I got a bash on my buttocks. I was shocked and turned back to look. It was the Head Master of our school. He was standing there holding a stick in his hands, with a pair of red bull’s eyes. My half niker was wet as I urinated with fear. All the batch mates laughed at me. The head master turned his eyes around. All the class mates went to their respective place to occupy their space on the floor. The head master asked Chaitu to show what he is holding in the hand. Chaitu handed over the National Flag to him. He inspected the flag, it was tattered at the centre. The Head Master advised, you both are excused because you are fighting for our National Flag. But remember two sons of a mother should never fight in between themselves. After thirty five years now I realize how being Indians we are fighting in between ourselves, further to divide our existing States and Union Territories. Of course all these things are being invoked by the ever greedy political clouts to cheat the gullible civilians.

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E KIRAN MOHAN(The Writer)

C\o. Dr.E.R.Rao(MD)
Main Road, Barpali-768029
Dist-Bargarh, Odisha, India

E Kiran Mohan 13