“Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.” – Barack Obama.

“More than you know it I’m aware,
Of this connection that we share.
I know it seems like sometimes I don’t care,
But you are the colors that I wear” – “3 AM”, Poets of the Fall.

“I’m proud to be an Indian ” – Twitterer, January 26th, 2010.

“You were an Indian in America, and now you’re an American in India. Always confused.” – Neo’s Uncle Abhay on Neo, January 26th 2010.

“What time is Lost?” – Neo, moments ago.

*

On Republic Day, Uncle Abhay kept trying to get Neo to enjoy the parade, but Neo was more interested in spending quality time with his Google Reader, podcasts and wine – only two things were “dry” on Republic Day at Neoville: the municipal water supply, and Abhay’s throat because he couldn’t stop talking.

Uncle Abhay finally gave up: “Are you even an Indian? What the hell are you doing in India? Why did you come here? Aren’t you proud of being an Indian?”.

No.

Neo has plenty of time to listen to Raga Marwa, or wait for his turn at the traffic light, but he has no time to waste watching parades, waving the flag of any country, chanting slogans or reading @nevervotes92’s tweets on how he’s proud of being an Indian. Saying that you are proud of being an Indian isn’t much different than saying you’re proud to be born on a Monday – being an Indian is just a fact, not an achievement to be proud of. Would you be less proud if you were born Romanian, or on a Tuesday ? You could say you’re lucky to be an Indian – millions of Bangladeshis would agree.

The ridiculously sloganeered and caricatured shows of patriotism that occur in India (and every other country) on “national holidays” are an insult to the intelligence of its citizens. What happened to the thoughtful, deep India ? When did we choose gaudy weddings over happy marriages, not-stalgia and past glory over reality, rutty careers over our real aspirations, pretentious religious ceremonies over what they actually mean, deep-fried over grilled, elder-worship over thinking for ourselves, the display of money over tastefulness and rote-memorized slogans over an intuitive understanding of civic duty ? You can get a kid to recite “Mera Bharat Mahan” or the sugary-sweet “All Indians are my brother and sisters” until his face is blue, but he’s still not going to stop throwing his fucking candy wrapper on the road until a parent teaches him to.

And have you noticed ? Around the world, the more pathetic the condition of its citizens, the grander and more pretentious are the patriotic celebrations and the forced, fake statements of pride. If the Martians were watching the parades on TV, they’d think North Korea was the leader of the world. The lipstick on a prostitute gets more garishly red as dawn approaches, or as the drugs wear off.

A few of Neo’s family members and friends serve (proudly) in the Indian armed forces. None of them are impressed by the Facebook status updates, tweets and blog posts proclaiming pride for India on national holidays or disasters. This Republic day, Neo’s friend said “We serve in the army so the rest of you motherfuckers can be safe and change India, not so you can sit around forwarding patriotic songs and feel happy.”

How about we replace all the parades, speeches and sloganeering with a simple ceremony that honors the men and women who would run towards a gunshot rather than away from it ? The ceremony can end in a simple wish – “we honor the Indians who died for our country this year, and we hope our enemies will soon have the opportunity to die in very large numbers for their country.”

Hello, and welcome to Neo’s blog. He is Indian, and he’s proud of many things. But he’s not proud to be an Indian. He just is an Indian.

*

PS: You still like parades ? Here’s a parade that will make you proud, or maybe, if you’re like Neo, laugh uncontrollably and then collapse with sadness:

PS2: Are you proud of this blog post? If you are, you shouldn’t be. You didn’t write it.

“Great job!” said Neo Jr, when Neo accidentally broke the Mikasa fruit bowl (the kind you get when you have no idea what to gift someone) into 18,433 pieces. It’s not like you need more proof that Neo’s son is smarter than yours, but come on, how gifted is a child who can be sarcastic at 4?

So Neo Jr’s 4th birthday party was mostly a success, but Neo was disappointed he couldn’t meet as many hot moms potential play-date partners for Neo Jr as he’d have liked – many kids arrived with a maid to watch them. Neo was a little offended and very amused when he found out that many of the moms had their own party, hanging out at a new Thai spa. (Offended because he wasn’t invited, and very amused that Mrs. Neo wasn’t!)

But yes, two years after moving to Bangalore, it’s been a “challenge” (don’t you just love euphemistic management jargon?) for the Neos to diversify their friends circle away from other US-returned people. (It’s getting tiring – there’s only so many times Neo can feign laughter at the “Oh let’s get cake from the Prolific Oven!”, “Oh right I forgot we don’t live in the Bay Area!, hahaha” genre of jokes.)

Neo’s neighbors (many of whom have never lived outside India), would be a great natural addition to his list of friends (and be a great source of convenient next-door play dates for Junior), but there are huge differences.

Here’s just one example: safety.

Neo’s neighbors are fine with a 1:6 adult:child ratio while going to a public park. Neo prefers a 6:1 ratio – he assigns one pair of Neo Jr’s grandparents to monitor the exits, the other pair of grandparents to set up a perimeter, while Neo pushes the swing. (Mrs. Neo, like the US government in almost any international crisis, helps by “monitoring the situation closely”.)

(Neo had equipped the Neo Jr Secret Service with their own wireless communication earsets, but abandoned the plan after the following security incident: Neo’s father-in-law figured out how to listen to cricket commentary on his earset, resulting in him gazing into space while a wayward frisbee landed  inside the 10-feet “no-fly” zone around Neo Jr.)

There are other issues too – Mrs. Neo abruptly terminated a play date at one of the neighbors’ when the neighbor brought out enough junk food “high-margin non-nutritive food products” to feed an army of teenagers low on self-esteem.

But for Juniors sake,  the Neos will try harder – there have to be more like-minded people in a city of 6 million (and it’s easy to meet them too, since all of them are currently on the same 2km stretch of road that Neo uses to commute home).

And finally, Neo Jr has to try harder too – when Neo’s elderly neighbor tried to distract Neo Jr from a bag of chocolates with “Hey look! there’s a rocket!”, Neo Jr gave the poor old lady his best bone-chilling, one-eyebrow-raised “are you frickin kidding me?” look!

But yes, Neo Jr has nothing on this kid:

(PS: Special bonus for those readers who thought they’ve finally seen the last of Neo’s tirades on religion: Did you know that Mrs. Neo prays every night ? Yes, every night after Neo Jr goes to bed, Mrs. Neo looks to the heavens and says “Thank God he’s in bed!”)