26th Jan, every year, as I near the date, a sudden surge of patriotism fills my chest. My heart yearns for the drill ceremony at the Red Fort, but my soul always travels back to those days.


When I was a kid…

Those were the most beautiful days of my childhood. I was an army brat, so I caught the patriotic fever early on. Every 26th January excited me more than any festival. On that particular day, I used to wake up by myself and get ready. Getting ready was a meticulous task back then I had to make sure my uniform was perfect: the shirt, pants, shoes, and tie. After checking them all came the major task of the day pinning the tiny flag to my chest (I'm a kid so my mom does it for me). Then I used to grab a flag and go to school, waving goodbye to mom and dad while thinking about the toffees.

As soon as we reached school, we got ready for the dance performance, while the nerds prepped for their long speeches. As the ceremony kicked off with the arrival of the chief guest of the occasion (none other than the principal, who self-invited himself every year). He hoisted the flag as we sang the National Anthem, and that was our cue to start the electric dance performances and equally energetic speeches. Once we finished, the principal got on stage to deliver his ten-page speech, probably written by the English teacher. As soon as the speech ended, kids were filled with excitement for the delicious laddus and chocolates. Although I ate the same snacks multiple times, they never tasted as good as they did that day (maybe our efforts made them  more delicious). After finishing the delicacies, I casually returned home.


At home, my dad eagerly waited for me to share my experience, and once I finished shared, we used to sit in front of the TV to watch the famous Republic Day parade on Doordarshan. After the parade, my dad would sit me and my brother down and say, “We got freedom at a great cost, never forget that.” Having said that, he gave ₹100 each to me and my brother and tells us to go enjoy the day. This was my most favorite part of the day.

When I was a teenager…

I told you I was an army brat, so my dad made sure to put me in an army boarding school, and hence my teenage life was mostly spent in Sainik School. Frankly speaking, I have no complains—most of the days were really good. But then came the days before Republic Day, being a Sainik School cadets, we had to perform a drill on the occasion, and thus started our journey of terror. Our drill practice used to start just two weeks before 26th Jan, exactly after Sankranthi holidays. Our drill master made sure that we didn’t play any games or have any fun during these two weeks, making us practice drill twice a day in those really uncomfortable khaki uniforms along with boots.

The weather never favored us; it was always sunny. In those harsh conditions, we used to do rigorous practice for four hours daily. As we endured our drill master’s beatings to perfect the drill, the days passed by, and D-Day arrived, when we had to perform it in front of our proud parents.


On the day We wake up very early in the morning to get ready most of all, the uniform. Frankly, half of the drill is all about the uniform, so we had to be perfect. As we got ready and reached the drill square where we were about to perform the drill we had practiced for two weeks and seeing our parents in the pavilion made us feel more elated and determined to perform well. As the chief guest (again, the principal—self-invited) arrived, the drill kicked off, and so the flag hoisting accompanied by the National Anthem went very smoothly, within around forty minutes. Then came the test of patience the long speeches started. In these speeches, they kept muttering the same thing in different languages, while on the other hand, the scorching sun burned through our khaki uniforms, draining us of the little water left in our bodies. Seriously, as the self-proclaimed chief guest-the principal finished his speech, We take a sigh of relief and joyfully go to the mess for our morning feast. Then we race off to the hostel, where our house captain would be awaiting to distribute toffees and again, those Five Stars never tasted better! Efforts matter muchachos, Efforts!

When I am a grown-up…


Now that I am grown man, those bittersweet memories come flashing into my head every Republic Day. They make me nostalgic, and for some time, I let those memories take over me completely. Not that Republic Day has lost its charm—it’s just that back then, we were innocent and naive enough to enjoy it to the fullest. I believe this applies to all good things in LIFE!