This was published as a middle in the Times of India edit page, sometime in August 2007.
© Times of India
Manas Gupta
Multiplexes have transformed the entire movie-watching culture in Delhi. The massive queues have all but disappeared, as have the gangs of mosquitoes and the broken seats. The one thing that hasn't changed is the typical Delhiite.
One can see them all in the confines of an air-conditioned cinema hall — from the polite to the obnoxious; from the dreamy, hand-holding couple to the disapproving, overweight aunties; from the gang of school-bunking kids to the giggling group of svelte college girls.
One fine day, yours truly found himself amidst a similar motley group of cinema-goers during a recent trip to the neighbourhood multiplex, and came back with an unforgettable memory.
During the intermission, a message flashed on the screen: 'Please stand up for the national anthem'.
Slowly, hesitatingly, the people started getting up. The girls stopped gossiping, the loud gentleman behind me stopped fighting for his seat, the whistling, joking group of students clammed up, and even the babies stopped crying. For the next few minutes, the only sound in the hall was the national anthem being sung by a host of legendary singers. And every single person in that dark, plush cinema hall was standing up.
The atmosphere was electrifying and for those few minutes, I felt goose pimples. Suddenly, I no longer felt any animosity towards the gawking teen who kept fiddling with his chair. I didn't want to slap the noisy kid behind me anymore. I felt a bond with my country and countrymen. It was an experience that I hadn't ever felt in my last 28 years on earth.
After the anthem finished, we took our seats. Some people applauded. Some shared smiles with the unknown face sitting beside them. After all, we were all part of the same country. We were India.
If this moment could have such a profound impact on an adult like me, than think of that seven-year-old in the fourth row, on whose impressionable mind, a two-minute clip has left an indelible mark of patriotism.
Just 10 minutes later, as I tried to make my way through a packed traffic-crossing, I accidentally brushed the side-view mirror of shiney new car. Sudeenly, a volley of verbal abuse hit me like monster truck. As I turned to face my attacker, I realised it was the quiet, affable lady who exchanged smiles with me after the anthem.
© Times of India
Manas Gupta
Multiplexes have transformed the entire movie-watching culture in Delhi. The massive queues have all but disappeared, as have the gangs of mosquitoes and the broken seats. The one thing that hasn't changed is the typical Delhiite.
One can see them all in the confines of an air-conditioned cinema hall — from the polite to the obnoxious; from the dreamy, hand-holding couple to the disapproving, overweight aunties; from the gang of school-bunking kids to the giggling group of svelte college girls.
One fine day, yours truly found himself amidst a similar motley group of cinema-goers during a recent trip to the neighbourhood multiplex, and came back with an unforgettable memory.
During the intermission, a message flashed on the screen: 'Please stand up for the national anthem'.
Slowly, hesitatingly, the people started getting up. The girls stopped gossiping, the loud gentleman behind me stopped fighting for his seat, the whistling, joking group of students clammed up, and even the babies stopped crying. For the next few minutes, the only sound in the hall was the national anthem being sung by a host of legendary singers. And every single person in that dark, plush cinema hall was standing up.
The atmosphere was electrifying and for those few minutes, I felt goose pimples. Suddenly, I no longer felt any animosity towards the gawking teen who kept fiddling with his chair. I didn't want to slap the noisy kid behind me anymore. I felt a bond with my country and countrymen. It was an experience that I hadn't ever felt in my last 28 years on earth.
After the anthem finished, we took our seats. Some people applauded. Some shared smiles with the unknown face sitting beside them. After all, we were all part of the same country. We were India.
If this moment could have such a profound impact on an adult like me, than think of that seven-year-old in the fourth row, on whose impressionable mind, a two-minute clip has left an indelible mark of patriotism.
Just 10 minutes later, as I tried to make my way through a packed traffic-crossing, I accidentally brushed the side-view mirror of shiney new car. Sudeenly, a volley of verbal abuse hit me like monster truck. As I turned to face my attacker, I realised it was the quiet, affable lady who exchanged smiles with me after the anthem.
