Where Are You From

By Mrittika Chowdhury

It had been a lazy holiday, staying at home with nothing much to engage myself with. Mom and dad

had left me alone in the house due to some important family meeting. I tried checking social media

out of boredom. Some notifications popped up which I ignored wilfully. After scrolling the Instagram

for a few minutes I called up some of my friends to have a rendezvous at a cafe, nearby my area.

Plans were made for a light evening meal. I waited for the evening so as to meet my friends and

justify my holiday.

At the cafe, we ordered coffees and sandwiches for four of us. We started to entertain ourselves,

having jolly conversations, clicking pictures, etc., while waiting for our orders to arrive. There were

not many customers in the cafe at that time. Apart from us there was only a couple absorbed in their

business and an old man who was writing something very attentively. I started to observe him. He

didn’t even look up and changed his diligent gaze from his writing piece. I was amazed and secretly

praised that man for being so devoted towards his work.

In the meantime our much awaited refreshments arrived. The coffee cups were tricolour and the

sandwiches were wrapped in tricolour napkins. It was an absolute delight. Time seemed to fly away

as we relished the meals and absorbed ourselves in chats and gossips. I discussed with my friends

about the old man being so focused and concentrated in his work. They seemed to be ignorant to

this topic being pulled out of nowhere and they reverted to previous topics. Putting that aside I

indulged myself into their spicy talks.

Suddenly the old man got up from his chair and moved towards the young couple seated together.

Out of sheer interest we started to observe his actions. He called at the young man busy with his

girlfriend and asked him sharply – “Where are you from?” The girl seemed irritated while the boy

being baffled just stared blankly at the old man’s face. The old man again asked him- “From which

country you are?” to which the boy faintly said India. Again the old man asked, “Do you know which

day it is?” The boy stood and said Monday. The old man sighed and said “Due to such fools like you,

our country is yet to advance towards prosperity.” The boy just stood with his head hung down.

“What a pity it is to hear an Indian call the Independence Day as Monday”. The old man retorted

adding, “When all the country is busy celebrating this prestigious event, cherishing the contributions

of the freedom fighters, some of our countrymen seem to have forgotten this day or its

importance.” The couple stood up and regretted their actions being inappropriate on such a blissful

National occasion. The old man seem to soften and accepted their apologies. He spoke to them in a

gentle manner, warning them not to repeat this sin. He also asked them to make the day memorable

by doing something creative for the motherland. Saying thus he left the cafe. After a few time the

couple also headed for their exit from the cafe. While leaving I could hear the boy heavily praising

the old man being so eloquent and bold which the girl showed signs of profound agreement.

I sat at the corner of the table thinking what justice I had done to the auspicious day of Indian

Independence. I felt like a criminal to my conscience. I failed to pay attention to my friends for a

while and one of them shocked me with a sudden jerk. No sooner did she shake me than the

National song started playing in the cafe and I felt awoken from the deep slumber inside the dusty,

creepy tomb of lie. With no more words I walked out of the cafe and headed to my home, ignoring

my buddies who called me back several times. Within me was the guilt which was triggered by the

lesson at the cafe. It has made me an Indian of true sense and has resulted to this story

By Mrittika Chowdhury