Another Republic Day come and gone. What is it about January 26 (and August 15) that makes the country go all patriotic? The media, of course, gives the lead — newspapers are full of stories about the valour of our armed forces or with surveys showing what the young and the old think about their country. The old talk about their days when we were ruled by more noble and idealistic rulers (as compared to the current crop which is venal and corrupt), while the young say they believe in their country but are unhappy with the way things are going.
As if to bolster this feeling of robust patriotism, on January 26, we are treated to the parade down Rajpath, a hoary institution that has survived almost unchanged for over five decades. The same display of arms, state cultural tableaux and march pasts by schoolchildren who have been standing for hours, waiting for their turn. Nothing has changed, not even the Doordarshan commentators with their clichéd script that is designed to put the viewer to sleep. Some schools desultorily have a flag hoisting ceremony, but that number is surely dwindling.
On January 27, the whole thing is forgotten and we are back to being our normal selves. Patriotism, it seems, is a product to be kept on the front shelves for one at best two days a year and stored away in the attic for the rest of the time.
Perhaps we are creatures of habit. The march past is one stable feature in an otherwise tumultuous existence. It helps us forget the rottenness we see all around us for a while. The missiles and the flypast remind us that we are a military power, the cultural floats are a glimpse of our wonderful diversity and the children represent hope for the future. Maybe, the fact that the whole thing has essentially remained the same is itself a plus point; this is something that is still run by our bureaucracy, and not by some slick event management company that cannot think beyond fireworks and Bollywood. Remember the disaster that was the closing ceremony of the Commonwealth Games? The Republic Day parade is the one place where we can guarantee that there will be no A.R. Rahman.
Yet, it is difficult to escape the feeling that this momentary lapse into patriotism is a bit too pat and convenient. For one thing, it is fleeting and transient, with the afterglow disappearing within hours. Being loyal to the country does not extend to following traffic rules or paying taxes or respecting one’s fellow citizens. Nor does our hyper-nationalistic mood allow for genuine difference of opinion; forget the Binayak Sen case, in which the state is doing everything in its power to show that it will not tolerate dissent. Try not standing up at a cinema when the national anthem is being played and you will find the collective wrath of the rest descending upon you. No, we must not only respect symbols, we must also show that we do. On days like January 26, we must announce it to the world on social media sites. Patriotism is nothing unless it is blared to one and all. But also, the question arises, why has patriotism become so closely entwined with militarism? We love our defence forces for the fine job they do, but can they be our only symbols of patriotic and nationalistic fervour?
This is, of course, not limited to Indians. The Americans will only use the word “hero” to describe their soldiers. In other countries the gung-ho nationalism may be somewhat tempered, but is no less real. In neighbouring Pakistan, the Army has become a monstrous commercial conglomerate but is still seen as a stabilising (and non-corrupt) force which ensures that greedy politicians are kept in check. In our own country, while cases of malfeasance by highly-decorated officers have come to light, the institution still retains much of its credibility.
This is not to cast any kind of aspersion on our defence forces. These are composed of fine men and women who do a great job in the most trying of circumstances. The life of a soldier (or a sailor or an pilot) is a tough one and most if not all acquit themselves with honour. But they are professionals first and last. Their job is to protect borders and that is what they must do.
Our job as citizens should be no less exacting. Democracy is not only about casting votes and Republicanism is not merely the day when the Constitution was adopted. Both of them demand obligations from each and every citizen. B.R. Ambedkar’s Constitution, one of the finest documents of its kind ever written, gives us rights but also imposes duties. The supremacy of the rule of law is something that cuts both ways; the state must respect it, but so must every Indian. Republicanism also reminds us that individual rights are more important than those of the tribe; all over we see the ugly spectacle of communities emerging more powerful than the individual.
Internalising these tenets and practising them round the year is far more patriotic than getting up in the morning and watching, teary eyed, as those Agni missiles and folk dancers come up on your TV screen. That symbolism is important too, but if the message behind that is lost, then January 26 was nothing but one more excuse to take a break from work.

The writer is a senior journalist and commentator on current affairs based in Mumbai