For a nationalist, the harshest reality lies in the not-easily justifiable inadequacies of your country. Those issues that suggest an underlying conspiracy, a threat to human virtue, an aberration of all that you thought your country stood for, are the worst kind. Sometimes, the harshness stops the nationalist from accepting.
I follow the situation in Kashmir as closely as I can because somehow there is an intrinsic link between my life and the goings-on in the region. I follow the situation in Ladakh, in Nagaland, in Bihar, in Gujarat, in every corner of India that hurts, for exactly the same reason. I feel sad, I feel distraught, I feel hopeful. But my faith in the Indian constitution and establishment is upheld, possibly because my understanding is cloaked in a liberal optimism. It is somewhat difficult for me to fathom that human rights violations, murders and encounter cases are acts sponsored and encouraged by the Centre. In effect, I genuinely believe that the Centre, those head honchos in the political foray are working for the betterment of India not only to make it seem better at the back of the Economist but to really improve the lives of every human that pays allegiance to the Union. Somewhat naively maybe, I think I believe that the Indian government is inherently prone to fighting for the liberation of its citizens. I see goodness even when parts of the country are mired in poverty and crime.
To accept otherwise, to believe that there are hideous conspiracies of mere self-aggrandizement that colour the character of Indian political figures, as is the case in our neighbouring country Pakistan and many other developing ones, feels like a slap in my face, a destruction of my faith, a reason for endless cynicism for every realm in life. In some sense, it is almost a selfish endeavour to believe naively in life.
Is my nationalistic sentiment, rested deeply in a faith in beauty and life, a mere coverup for the land where none dare go?
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