“A good change"
By J.L. Gupta
A recent
invite brought to mind, the memory of another. The President of India was to administer the
oath of office to a friend. At his instance, my wife and I had been invited for
the "swearing-in ceremony" at the Rashtrapati Bhavan. A nicely printed card.
Calligraphically written address. A sticker for the car. All this ensured a
totally smooth access to an exclusive area. Each guest properly received and
escorted. An impressive stairway. The red carpet. Men in uniform lining the
passage. Erect. Looking straight. No movement. As if they were not even
breathing. Not batting an eyelid. All looked alike. How could the young and
vibrant human beings look like Nek Chand's creation at the Chandigarh's Rock
Garden? All alike? And alive? I had almost felt tempted to touch one. To see if
they were living men or mere statues.
Once in
place, we had surveyed the hall. Magnificent. Elegantly furnished. Soon after
the arrival of the Prime Minister, the buglers had signaled the entry of His
Excellency the President of India. On the dot. The ceremonial forms were
punctiliously observed. There was a solemnity. A quiet dignity in the air.
Every ritual was performed with a clockwork precision.
Throughout,
the photographers were shooting. The flashguns were firing. Yet, there was a
brief session for the photographers. Temporarily, the celebrities appeared to
have shed their solemn looks. To put on broad smiles.
Then, the usual
cup of tea. Good crockery & silver. Sumptuous tea. Liveried bearers. The
quickness of their movement indicated the years of experience. The atmosphere
was formal. But, friendly.
People had
started moving. Even before the President. A while later, we had also walked
back to leave. The way we had come in. The sentinels were still there. As they
were when we had come in. The car number was announced. A while later, we were
driving out, I had a second look at the imposing structure. The stately spire
and the dome. One cannot help but be impressed with the building and its
grandeur. It symbolises power. It gives pleasure.
Sir Edwin
Lutyens had planned it. The British had built it. As the residence of the
English Viceroy. For his comfort. But with our money. At our cost. Our people
had laboured. Our artisans had worked. Our people had sweated and shed their
blood. And still, we were not even allowed to enter its portals. This was the
curse of slavery. Now, everything has changed. We are a free country. We elect
our own representatives to the national Parliament and the state legislatures.
They make the laws to govern us. They elect the President too. Our Rashtrapati
lives here. Not the English Viceroy. Our President!
We have
probably, the most magnificent Presidential Palace in the world. The largest.
With an equally big retinue of aides. And why not? We are the second largest
nation of the world. Our President must have a residence befitting the august
office. Sometimes, the visiting Heads of States stay with him. Important
ceremonies are performed here. The rituals, though expensive, are essential.
These add a gloss and grandeur to the occasion. Divested of the form, the office
may lose some
of its aura and
authority.
More than
everything else, even the commoners can witness the gloss and grandeur. Some
change? Certainly! A good change!If we work hard, we can change the face of India!
