Independance day usually meant School programmes and Baba's office. School's out, but Baba's office celebrations still take place. Baba raises the flag, we sing the National Anthem, I slink into his office and fiddle around with the fancy stuff there (his loo is the coolest, with very cool lotions and colognes he never uses...and mint...shit...his loo has mints) and then we have lunch and come back home and sleep. That's always been I-day for me.
But as the days go by, (don't worry I'm not getting into the superficiality jazz and moral speeches) I feel sorry. For me. There is a lot misplaced patriotism in me. I can't even begin to explain what that is. Sometimes...just sometimes, I feel that I was born in the wrong era. Not because there is nothing I can do for my country now....it's just that a struggle often brings out the best in you...the true patriot in you...and I...my friends, have never had to struggle a single day in my life. And that's the sad, pasta-potato truth.