Har Ghar Tiranga

Every home proudly displays the national flag.

This year’s Independence Day reminded me that patriotism often blooms in the smallest of moments.

That morning, my 10-year-old daughter and I set out early, excited to attend the flag-hoisting ceremony at our old housing society, the place we had called home for more than two decades. We had moved recently, but the memories — and her childhood friends — still lived there.

The car’s FM radio was playing soft patriotic songs, and outside, the city was dressed for the occasion. Vendors stood at street corners, their carts piled high with flags and balloons in orange, white, and green. The air was alive with music, chatter, and that rare sense of collective pride.

As we neared the venue, a vibrant scene on the left side of the road caught my eye – a group of school students gliding effortlessly on their skates, waving Indian flags in their hands. It was a wonderful sight. But in a split second, disaster struck: one student lost control and bumped into my car. I slammed on the brakes, stopping immediately.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a serious accident. Although it was a very minor injury, assessing its intensity and ensuring everything was under control during those tense moments caused a delay of about 15 to 20 minutes.

By the time we reached our venue, the flag hoisting ceremony had just finished. My daughter’s innocence face mirrored her disappointment. Though I tried to catch another ceremony at a nearby society, that also proved futile, leaving us both disheartened.

She had been looking forward to seeing the flag raised and catching up with her old friends but nothing can be done now . I tried to reassure her, but it was clear she was still upset.

As we drove home, the silence in the car spoke volume. My daughter stared out the window, her disappointment was palpable. I felt a pang of guilt—I had promised her this moment, and now it was gone. Then, as if a light had switched on in my mind, I remembered the national flag I had bought a couple of days ago for the “Har Ghar Tiranga” Campaign for our house, but I had completely forgotten. It was still in the car’s drawer. Without a second thought, I opened the drawer and took out the flag.

In that moment, I realised this was the perfect chance to hoist the flag at our building gate. But it was just the two of us, my daughter and I. I thought it would be more meaningful if we could gather a few others. I searched our neighbours it they are in round but nobody was seen. I even tried to find people from nearby buildings, but no one was in sight.

Then, I noticed our society’s security guard, who was busy washing cars. An idea struck me—why not include him in our flag hoisting? I called him over and had another thought: why not invite the security guards from the neighboring buildings as well? Our security guard quickly went and gathered them, and soon enough, four of them had joined us.

Within minutes, four of them stood with us at the gate of our building. Someone pulled out a phone to play the national anthem. I handed our security guard the flag, and he raised it slowly, proudly.

I looked at my daughter. Her eyes were shining now, her disappointment replaced by pride. And in that moment, I realised — patriotism isn’t only found in grand celebrations or large gatherings. Sometimes, it’s in the small acts we choose to create, and the pride we feel in our hearts.

That day, our little ceremony felt as real and as meaningful as any grand event. It was a quiet tribute to the leaders and the countless unsung heroes who gave their everything so that we could stand here, free.

A nation is not built by speeches alone — but by the everyday actions of its people, no matter how small. Thank You.

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