Someone told me today they disagreed with me. About the Constitution.
“It’s just a piece of paper,” they said. “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. It can be changed. Or even discarded.”
I told them I agreed. And disagreed.
The Constitution isn’t sacred. It isn’t carved in stone. It isn’t immutable. It was made for us. By us. To serve us. That much is true.
But here’s the part they missed.
The Constitution isn’t just a document. It is both a mould and a mirror of Indian civilisation.
A mould, because it is the natural, inevitable culmination of thousands of years of our history. The arc of Indian civilisation, its migrations, kingdoms, empires, struggles, philosophies, could only have bent towards this: Justice. Liberty. Equality. Fraternity. For all. These aren’t abstract ideals. They are the rational end of our collective journey.
A mirror, because it reflects who we are. It holds up an image of our present, warts and all. But it also reflects our aspirations. It shows us what we could be. What we ought to be. What we can be, if only we try.
It is both history and prophecy. Both our ancestor’s story and our children’s dream.
Yes, the Constitution can be amended. It has been, many times. It must evolve with the moral zeitgeist. It is a living document, after all. The Preamble itself begins with, “We, the people.” It exists to serve us, not the other way around.
But here’s the thing:
While the Constitution must change with us, it also changes us. It shapes us. Guides us. Challenges us to rise above our flaws. It is a moral compass pointing to the best version of ourselves.
So, discard it? Rewrite it entirely? Sure, if we must. But let us not forget what it represents.
It is not sacred. But it is profound. It is not perfect. But it is necessary.
The Constitution is India’s promise to itself. A promise forged from the blood and tears of those who dreamed of a free and fair nation. A promise that says we will keep striving, no matter how far we fall.
Lose that promise, and we lose more than a document. We lose our story. We lose our dream. We lose what it means to be India. We are Indians because of our Constitution, which in turn exists as a logical culmination of our millennia-old journey to become Indians. It defines us as much as we decide what it says. We are interdependent and interconnected. It is a bridge between the ancient and the future India.
Take that away, and we have neither our past. Nor our future.
