This grand parade

Another new year, another Republic Day Parade. Another debate on why, wherefore and whether. But forget the pros and cons and the patriotism...

Another new year, another Republic Day Parade. Another debate on why, wherefore and whether. But forget the pros and cons and the patriotism vs cost-effort analysis. Nothing was further from our minds when our group of 24 schoolkids was selected for the 8216;West Bengal folk artiste troupe8217; for the grand parade one winter evening in 1988.

What did puzzle us was: what was 8216;folk8217; about Tagore and his anandaloke 8212; the theme music for the state tableau? But we were too happy to complain. After all, it was an all expense paid 20-day trip to Delhi from Calcutta.

The Rabindra Rangshala stadium, where we were put up, was a revelation. The staid paragraphs about 8216;unity in diversity8217; in Geography books which had to be mugged during exams, came to life with artistes from the remotest corners 8212; Kerala to Kashmir to Nagaland 8212; residing in the same grounds.

Some were from villages and never went to school. There were those who did, and yet understood no word of English or Hindi. Conversation often demanded all our skills at sign language. There were Bharatnatyam artistes from the south who scoffed at rock. The Goans who broke into a jive during chats.

Then there was the group from Himachal 8212; the most popular with the girls from Bengal, who in the pre-cable black-and-white doordarshan days had little exposure to fair-skinned paharis. Some even made bold to propose marriage Not me, I don8217;t lose my head over schoolboys when there are a bunch of charismatic not-so-old IAS officers around. In fact, there was this8230; well never mind.

Then the group leader from Himachal came and severely complained to our group leader that girls from Bengal were 8216;8216;making advances8217;8217;. But there were other things to blow the bad taste away. High tea with the president and Rajiv Gandhi, for one. I still think Sonia Gandhi should stick to knee-length red dresses.

There was mushroom for dinner 8212; a first and I loved the taste 8212; and no fish. Chaat in colourful bazaars. The Red Fort. Interesting cars, no traffic jams. And the boulevards of Lutyens8217; Delhi made one forget the potholes of Calcutta. No question, Delhi seemed The Place To Be In. That8217;s where I am now 8212; though high teas with the president are no longer forthcoming.

8216;8216;Why parade8217;8217;, you still ask?