Running in meandering lines along the street, next to lit up buildings and stray firecrackers.

Laughing, sometimes genuinely and other times in a fake hollow manner, amidst family and food. Hugging and grinning and being happy. In the end, the happy times drowned out the hollow voices.

Lying on the bed and watching the lights and lamps on nearby buildings flickering, casting long and mildly pretty shadows on us.

Coming home to a building with big blue lanterns and orange lights; a staircase with oil lamps and candles at every doorstep.

Then eventually giving in to sleep, with inexplicable dreams of bats, food and second degree burns, to the background of crackers and cheer. 

Free!

Tomorrow, as the country will be draped in saffron and green and little children will run around holding little paper flags, we will roll over and be grateful for the holiday. And grateful for freedom of course.

The people here have been chirpier and gleeful. They looked thrilled yesterday, even though it was a Monday. Today, the cafeteria had an Independence Day special menu which involved tri-coloured food – most of which gave me a bad throat from the artificial food colouring. The walls of the cafeteria were plastered with tiny flags which, because of the table fans and AC vents, made a harsh flapping sound. The people who served us food were wearing little badges saying “I love India.”

After lunch, when we stepped out, they handed us little fliers about the country’s independence movement. The little write up was extracted from some History text book. They said “Happy Independence Day” to us, in a practised, bored voice.

The holiday feeling is delicious, like two Sundays in a week. You know, because we don’t get Saturdays off. This is the closest we’ll come to experiencing a 5 day week.