I love parades. There’s something
about the orderliness, togetherness, teamwork, the pride in the turn of chin,
the swing of the arms and legs that sets uniformed parades apart from the
Carnival kinds. The latter have fun, colour, music, laughter, themes. Either
ways, they’re more attractive and entertaining than any advertisement or serial
on television.
Last weekend, whilst watching a
program on the National Defence Academy on television, the conversation at home
turned to all the parades we had witnessed. Topping the list of favourites is
not the glamorous Republic Day Parade but Beating the Retreat which happens on
the sunset of Jan 28th each year on Rajpath. When the military band
plays the moving tunes, including the eternal tear-jerker ‘Abide With Me’ and
the uniformed soldiers walk towards and then at angles to the Rashtrapati
Bhavan right in front of Raisina Hill, even an enemy would say ‘aha’. The
chilly Delhi winter breeze freezes the experience for ever.
Some say the R-Day parade is a
waste of money. My response: anything that can raise pride in one’s country is
worth the expense. Once, in a small opthalmology clinic in Faridabad, a young
female staff member was watching the parade on television. At one point the jaana gaana maana was played. This
solitary creature in that dreary, barely furnished room stood at attention and
sang with gusto, un-noticed by anyone but me, right till the last jaya jaya jaya jaya heh. The colourful
uniforms, the disciplined stepping in time, the folk-dances, the floats that
came from the corners of the country, they impressed her. She wasn’t ever going
to see them live. If on-screen the effect was so much, can imagine what
impression the live show would have. I met a couple of people who had
participated in the parade either when they were in school or the NCC and they
still cherish the experience. This is one parade that must continue. Those who
talk about waste of money need to remember: a second pair of shoes is also a
waste of money. When has it ever stopped anyone from buying them?
When in remote cantonments, still
stuck in the Raj era, I see soldiers practicing for some parade, I am reminded
of the hard work that goes into making a disciplined forced. These exercises
aren’t done for entertainment, but to establish team-work, fitness and more.
The Carnival in Goa was such fun
when one could identify the participants and sometimes join in the music and
dance. With increase of crowds and commercialisation, it’s still a good parade,
but one has to be content with crassness at times.
I like the state-level parades,
too, like the one at Shivaji Park in Mumbai where the schools participate and
so do the Road Safety Patrol (something Goa desperately needs), Fire Services
and Home Guards.
Perhaps the parades I’ve never
liked are the ones involving kindergarten children ‘graduating’ to primary
schools, wearing the black robes and caps of college or university degree
holders. I’m not one to say ‘so cute’ to that sort of farce.
Unlike the energy-filled parades
with heart-stopping thump thump drumming,
the parade at the graduation of the nurses who earn their bachelor degree is
gentle. The ethos of the profession and the girls who have chosen it is
soothing, comforting, quiet. The junior girls sing chosen songs and hymns
dedicated to treating and care of the ill and ailing. They devote their time
and effort, they sacrifice their family life, to make sure the wards under
their care is the best. I don’t know whether this ceremony is officially
qualified as ‘parade’, but to me, that’s what it is. One of the best.
Strangely, those gentle nurses
and the passionate, effervescent NDA cadets (the television program on whom
triggered off this column) have one thing in common. Something that every 10th
standard teenager has when s/he is given a farewell from school: a strong
feeling of nostalgia for the hard work and the success that followed.
At the end of one’s life, perhaps
one has the same feeling. And I’m wondering now, is a funeral also a parade of
sorts? Dwelling on that thought now. Ciao till next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment