26 January 2025
Pune, India
My Dearest Baby Bear,
It’s been a while since I have written to you. I hope this email finds you happy.
Today, as the Indian tricolour dances in the sky and the sound of marching feet echoes across Kartavya Path (and as the jets buzz overhead), I want to tell you why Republic Day is so significant. Not just to me, not just to our family, but to you, as a citizen of this Republic.
You already know about your Ajoba and Abhi Chacha. You know how they ‘donned the wings’ of this great nation through the Indian Air Force. You know about their service, their dedication. And you know that your Abhi Chacha made the ultimate sacrifice for this country. That sacrifice carries a resonance, especially on this day.
But today, I also want to tell you about your Aaji, your grandmother. A woman of quiet strength and fierce determination. When your Abhi Chacha (who I wish you had known) was taken from us, she did not retreat into grief. Instead, she fought. She fought for the honour of her son, and in doing so, she fought for the safety and comfort of thousands of sons and daughters in the Indian Air Force. She fought to ensure that those who defend our skies have the right to equipment and weapons that are effective, reliable, and safe. Her fight was not just for her son, but for every mother’s child who serves this nation.
In a way, Kym, your Aaji was as much a defender of the Republic as your Ajoba and your Chacha. She stood tall, not on a battlefield, but in the corridors of power and justice, demanding accountability and change. Her courage and resolve were a testament to the spirit of this Republic—a spirit that says we will not rest until every citizen, especially those who protect us, is treated with dignity and fairness.
This is not just another holiday, another flag-unfurling event. It is a day that defines us as a Republic. A day when, back in 1950, the Constitution of India came into effect, transforming our nation from a people struggling to overthrow a coloniser into a people declaring they are free and answerable to no one but themselves. It is the day when ‘we, the people’ became the sovereign masters of our own destiny. A day when our collective struggle, the blood and sweat of countless forefathers and foremothers, was formalised into a promise: justice, liberty, equality, and fraternity. For all.
You have watched the grand parade before, as I hope you are watching it today. The soldiers in their smart uniforms, the crisp salutes, the colourful floats celebrating our diversity. But it is more than a display of strength or of cultural wealth. It is a pledge. A commitment by those men and women in uniform to protect our Republic, its values, and its people. All its people. That commitment, that pledge, is what your ancestors lived for. And, as you no doubt know, died for.
Freedom, Kymaia, is not an inheritance. It is not easily won. It was hard-earned. And it is fragile. It needs defending, not just from external threats, but from within. From the forces that endanger, or even chip away at our values, our rights, our dignity. You already know that I do not follow political parties or leaders blindly. You shouldn’t either.
One must be ideologically curious and politically promiscuous.
I believe in something much larger: Secular humanism. The ‘radical’ idea that all people, no matter their religion, caste, gender, age, physical abilities, language, region, or background, are equal. Equally worthy of respect. And of being treated with dignity and empathy. I know this is the society I want to build and live in. This is the nation I want you, and other children like you, to grow up and prosper in. And for that, we must always defend these values, even when it is inconvenient or unpopular. Especially when it is inconvenient and unpopular.
A Republic, Kym, is a nation without a King or Queen. It is a nation without a ruler. Or the ruled. It is a nation where we—you, me, others like us—are sovereign. Where the people decide, not just how they are living their lives, but more importantly, how they wish to live their lives. That is what we chose. And that choice is embodied in our Constitution, beginning with its Preamble. A Preamble that does not mention ‘God’ or any deity, because our founding heroes—Nehru and Ambedkar amongst my personal favourites—aspired for something greater than divine right. They aspired for justice, liberty, equality, and fraternity. For everyone. These words are not just lofty ideals; they are our north star. They have been for long.
When you read the Constitution (along with the Preamble to it), you will realise that it is not a reflection of who we are today, or indeed were in 1949, when we adopted it. It is an aspiration for who we can become. It’s a reminder that what we are today is not our final form. That we are a work in progress. With a goal that is so high, it will always remain slightly out of reach, as all such goals must be. And these ideals, these goals, Partner, are worth defending. Worth dying for. Like your Chacha did.
So, as you watch the parades today, as you hear the patriotic songs, as you wave the tricolour, remember this: being a citizen of a Republic is not passive. It’s active. It’s a responsibility. It’s about living in such a way that your life, your choices, your values, your utterances, your behaviour, and your actions are all worth defending. Worth, if I may repeat, dying for. And you don’t have to wear a uniform to do that. That is the essence of a Republic. That is the essence of today.
Be proud, Kym. Of your family. Of this nation. Of being part of a Republic that dares to dream of being better than it is.
With all my love,
Baba Bear
Here’s a photo from 2022. How quickly are you growing up!
