Happy 4th!!!

I am slightly biased when it comes to India’s two most prominent national festivals. The grandiose of the Republic Day parade beats the vanilla celebrations on Independence Day hollow each year. In a way, I have always perceived Independence Day celebration at home as an impoverished brother of the more ostentatious Republic Day festivity. 

I was highly mistaken when, given this premise, I did not expect much out of the 4th of July celebrations that we were to witness at San Francisco. Even though I was every bit excited about seeing how a country other than my own celebrated their independence, I was slightly blasé about it. As history goes, 236 years ago on this day after a fierce revolution, Americans finally won their freedom from the British. I once read a Chinese proverb “One generation plants the trees and another gets the shade”. Akin to all other wars waged for freedom, the American Revolution was fought by a generation which wanted to ensure that future generations would enjoy the cool shade of a free country.

After a very American 4th of July barbeque brunch with some friends, my husband and I boarded the Cal train to San Francisco. The minute we set foot in SF, we could feel the gaiety in the air. Dressed in their national colours with the national flag painted on their faces, some people overtly displayed their patriotism while others seemed happy in simply buzzing around like bees. The entire mob, engulfed in electrifying energy, seemed to be moving uniformly in one direction. We rightly assumed that they were all off to see the fireworks.

Having joined the aforesaid mob, we found ourselves at Ghirardelli square waiting for the crackers to go off. The steely grey Pacific Ocean instantly came alive with a kaleidoscope of colours as it reflected the bright explosion of each firecracker. In calculated synchrony, coloured formations of bright lights painted the dark canvas of the night sky. Street musicians took this opportunity to croon their favourite true blue American ballads like ‘Miss American Pie’ and ‘Sweet home Alabama’. The roads in San Francisco resembled fun rides at amusement parks which rise and fall at sharp angles rendering their patrons giddy. One such road led us to another vantage point from where we got a brilliant view of the Pacific and the last of the fireworks. As we looked for a place to eat and encountered long queues at each restaurant, it appeared as if the entire city was out partying. The merriment was contagious and all the good cheer made our spirits soar despite the fact that on our way back we got stuck in terrible traffic and missed the last train.

On our way home in a toasty warm cab, I confessed to myself how wrong I was in underestimating the grandeur of this day. In a country where even the smallest of achievements translates into a big party, Independence Day was bound to be the biggest yearly party for the masses. As far as fussing over small achievements goes, I couldn’t help ponder, how this is probably a rare culture in which people rejoice over anything that vaguely resembles triumph. Be it a child’s kindergarten graduation or a pets’ birthday or something as seemingly nugatory as a ‘first date’ anniversary, they all call for a celebration of some kind. Much ado is made over occasions which go unnoticed back in India because of their sheer triviality. Perhaps sitting up and noticing small achievements is important and sometimes making a big deal out of these may be a good idea to stir up that elusive element called fun which we Indians tend to neglect ever so often.