Independence Day: From corruption to better education, Delhi speaks up

Outside the four gates of Red Fort Metro station, queues poured out into the heat. Only those with a valid pass, booked through the Ministry of Defence’s Aamantran portal, were allowed through.

Naveen, 22, a student at Ramjas College, discovered this the hard way. He and three friends had come to watch the celebrations in person for the first time, only to be stopped near Hanuman Mandir for a valid pass. “We thought just registering was enough,” he said, as an announcement from the gate urged the crowd to hurry. “Going to see the celebration in person must feel really good—not like watching it on video.”

Past the checkpoints, there were multiple layers of security: frisking, ID checks, and scrutiny of passes. Only phones and wallets were allowed in; even coins had to be left behind. Outside the police booths lay small heaps of confiscated pens, Bluetooth earphones, caps and water bottles.

Gen Z for institutional reform, accountability

In the Harike enclosure, children from Sarvodaya Bal Vidyalaya 01, Jama Masjid, sit patiently in their white uniforms, listening to Prime Minister Narendra Modi speak. (Express Photo by Tabshir Shams)

Inside Red Fort, the seating enclosures carried names drawn from India’s lakes: Bhimtal, Chilika, Pangong Tso, Pushkar—echoing the river-themed enclosures at this year’s Republic Day parade on Kartavya Path.

Among the seated cadets was Anshuman, 22, in a sharply pressed NCC uniform, a red best-cadet badge glowing in the sunlight pinned to his blue blazer’s front pocket. He turned briefly to catch a glimpse of PM Modi as applause broke out for an announcement on India’s nuclear power achievements, then turned back. “Our generation did not grow up to see the enslavement of India in the hands of the British. There is nothing that connects the younger generation to the Independence struggle,” he said. “We got independence from the British in 1947. Now we have to get independence from corruption, hunger, and underdevelopment.”

Speaking about the Jantar Mantar protest that led to Dharmendra Pradhan’s resignation as education minister, he voiced scepticism about the wave of hyperpolitics. “The protests happened, a minister resigned—it was seen as a big achievement, but people quickly moved on after that. The same happened in Nepal, in Bangladesh, and other countries. But authoritarianism and corruption returned to these countries over time. There should be a push for institutional reform, an overhaul of the system,” he said.

Anshuman wants to become a civil servant—the Army was never an option, he said, because he has dextrocardia (his heart is on the right side of his chest).

A little further off, in the Harike enclosure, 49 schoolchildren from Sarvodaya Bal Vidyalaya 01, Jama Masjid, sat in white uniforms. Nine-year-old, Class 3 student Asad ducked behind a friend to escape the sun as the Prime Minister’s speech turned to critical minerals. “Bhagat Singh won us our freedom,” he said solemnly. “I will one day grow up to become like him. Science is my favourite subject now.”

Near a water dispenser, where people lined up for a glass of water, Ratna Kumari, 21, a final-year BA student from Haryana whose brother serves in the Air Force, offered a sharper comment. “Politicians only tell us about their successes in their speeches,” she said. “They come asking for votes with their achievement stories. It’s high time they also spoke of what they haven’t achieved yet, what’s still pending. That’s how accountability gets fixed.”

A farmer’s past, a daughter’s future

For Prafull Mohanty, 62, a retired government servant from Dhubri, Assam, independence means “good governance”. (Express Photo by Tabshir Shams)

For Basavaraj, 82, a farmer from Gulbarga in Karnataka, independence meant “good rain and a good harvest”. “I was two years old when the country gained independence. I don’t remember much. But even after 80 years, seeing these many people turn up—it fills my heart,” he said, standing near Gate No 9 in a slightly torn off-white dhoti and kurta, a Nehru cap on his head.

Nearby, Neha, 26, sat with her two-year-old daughter, who clenched a fistful of her mother’s silver dupatta as the Prime Minister spoke of his seven-point roadmap for the nation. “This 80th Independence Day means a better life and future for my daughter,” Neha said. “I could only study till the 12th standard due to family obligations. But our future generations should get the best education as a right so they can live the best life.”

As PM Modi’s speech ended, Prafull Mohanty, 62, a retired government servant from Dhubri, Assam, reflected on what independence meant for him. Wearing a gamosa draped over his maroon shirt, with a wide smile on his face, he said, “Independence for me means good governance.” He scanned the crowd for his son, an Army officer walking a little ahead, and softened when he spotted him. “My pension comes on time, which is good. The people getting jobs in Assam now are getting them on merit. Better infrastructure is being built there,” he said, adding that the floods in Sivasagar caused a lot of destruction.

As the ceremony wound down, the morning’s urgency eased off. The crowd that had rushed in now walked out slowly, unhurried. Above old Delhi, multi-coloured kites started soaring in the sky. Outside the barricades, many waited for them to open at 10 am so they could go wherever the day would take them next.