" Unless our conception of patriotism is progressive, it cannot hope to embody the real affection and the real interest of the nation.  "
- Jane Adams               

Deja vu is perhaps the feeling I felt as I stepped into the crowded Meenambakkam Airport, pushed and jostled all the way as my fiance Richard collected our bags.

I was the quintessential NRI...not Never Returning Indian...as some of the jokes go.I was an outcast amongst my family though.Four years of U.S Education and 3 years of work in reporting and making documentaries...resulted in loads of money and an American fiance.

Not that Richard's bad or anything..he's an amazing person i'm glad to marry...

Within hours, we check into the Taj Coromandel and after sleeping the jet-lag away, we're off to work.Yes...work..in the form of a documentary covering rural India.Richard and I decided we'd do it together, making it a chance for me to get back home.

We drive off to Arambanur , a small village in Tamil Nadu, with the driver Mani giving a commentary in broken English, and Richard trying to fathom his English and speak with him.I doze off resting my head on Richard's shoulder.

I wake up to see the evening sun peak through the wilted trees and parched lands.

''Hey ...had a good sleep?"Richard smiles at me, brushing my dishevelled hair.

We have samosas and Diet Coke, gazing at the sun before it sets.

The landscape is not the one you see in the "Incredible India" Campaign posters....the land is parched, the crops are little and there is more of wild grass and coarse shrubbery.The signs are ominous indeed.

We get out of the car in the outskirts of Arambanur and decide to walk the way to the village.Not just because we wanted some fresh air, but also because there were no good roads that wouldnt damage the car.

Richard remarks " Barren land ha?"

"Very much so.." I say

There are a group of houses and a small Government Guest House, where we are gonna stay.

A small girl runs along with a basket of flowers in her hands.She notices me and smiles, and almost trips over her red skirt, which is too long for her.

"Akka poo.." she says, meaning me to get her almost dried jasmine flowers.

She notices Richard and speaks in her best English " Get flower".

I smile and ask her in tamil "How much?".She tells me a price and I give her the money.

She takes a dirty plastic cover(which is probably one of the most environmentally dangerous ones..which would scare Al Gore out of his wits).

Richard says "No...just take the flowers..the cover's too bad"

She seems to understand what he says and says to him "Keep for her" meaning, keep those flowers on my hair.

Richard smiles "Good idea" and clumsily fastens it on to my hair.

I blush and smile..and so does she, looking very pleased with herself.By this time, lots of people from the village have come nearby and are gazing at us with curiosity, as though we're exhibits.

The night sky sets in, as I talk to the willing locals.

"What to do ?The crops havent flourished, despite the rain" says Palani, a farmer.

There is Murugan, whose family is leaving to Chennai for a better living(or so they hope), there is Chinna , the owner of the little grocery , there is Meena , the 3 year old sister of Sita, the flower girl , there is Shyama, a weaver...and they all sit with us and talk.

Poverty is what they are in...but they are very cheerful.They do sigh and worry, but immediately bounce back with smiling enquiries about myself.Meena plays with Richard, looking curiously at his blonde hair.

"You her friend?" Sita asks Richard.

"Hmm.." he smiles and winks at me "Sort of.."

Her mother Urmila tells me that her daughter Sita loves talking in English.

So, I call Sita and ask her"Do you go to School?"

"I finished" she smiles.

Which is when , Raju,who is an agricultural engineer here tells me that she has finished 6 years in the only English-medium School nearby...the maximum that has been completed by a girl in this village.

"Thats why Sita has always felt superior and knowledgeable" he grins.

A thousand stars shine brightly, as the village folk sit talking beside us .I look at them all...all of them chattering and smiling with glee...Sita sitting on her mother's lap and reciting "Twinkle twinkle.."..Richard taking Meena horsey-back...Urmila stitching her torn saree.........and I look up at the sky.

I am reminded of "Swades".....the people, the atmosphere, the stars....

The children start playing hide and seek and Sita runs upto me and hides behind me...

Their game continues....I continue looking into nowhere...I'm seldom emotional...but this scenario over-whelms me...this is the real India...the India , Gandhiji talked about .......and it's still the same as it would have been in his time...and yet, the people are cheerful, regardless of their hardships....there is an energy among them...

Tears well in my eyes...as I realise what my pilgrimage has done to me...Patriotism filling my soul...real patriotism..not the Patriotism you feel in an India vs Pakistan Cricket match..not the Patriotism you'd feel when pinning up fancy Indian flags and brooches, while munching sweets on Independence Day....not the Patriotism you feel when you watch a Rang De Basanti...or hear "Yeh jo des hey tera"...But this patriotism I'm feeling is a raw feeling..one so powerful an emotion, as I have never felt before...

An emotion that asks me "What have you done for this country?"
An emotion that re-assures me "You can serve your country wherever you are..but , only if you know the hardships in ground zero."
An emotion...that weakens me....as I sit down on the red sand......

"You cheated"..I hear Sita screaming.

"No she didnt" Richard says, lifting Meena...and he looks at me.

"Are you all right ?" he comes near me and asks.

I think of my great country and it's ability to fight against all odds to still develop into a formidable power...I think of what I should do as a patriotic and responsible citizen..I think of Sita, who wants to become proficient in English....I think of the simple joys that I'd almost forgotten, rediscovering them now in a remote part of the country.........

And I smile..."I've never been better"

Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all others because you were born in it.
-George Bernard Shaw

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This is inspired after reading a comment in a forum...and is dedicated to the Nation..in advance for the Independence Day..May we all be truly patriotic!