Between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi

“Jallikattu protests  - All roads lead to Marina” screamed a headline.

Truly, on Saturday evening, as we made our way to the famous Marina beach, we could see almost every third vehicle on the road was headed there. There were men and women dressed in black. There were bikers stopping by the roadside to hold up placards and signs. Some even held up phones displaying pro-Jallikattu messages.

When we reached the signal on Mount Road just before the Chepauk stadium, we made a quick decision – we decided to head straight. We had heard that vehicles weren’t allowed till the Marina, so I figured that we could start much higher North and ride down the road adjacent to the beach.

There was nary a vehicle on Flag Staff road, and my wife and I wondered at the completely deserted road. When we turned the last curve of the road to join the ‘beach road’, there she stood.

The Indian flag. Waving boldly in the breeze. As if to say that Indian-ity reigned supreme – come what may.


My heart gushed. My face filled with joy. I was incoherent as I tried to scream back at my wife sitting behind me – “Look at the flag waving so boldly and beautifully!” I was loving it.

That’s when it struck me. The protests, completely peaceful for the past six days and being praised by all, were sort of ensconced between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi’s memorial, at the end of the Marina beach, just before the lighthouse.

Between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi.


As we made our way slowly through the numerous bikes and cars, we felt swept up in the moment – of the movement. There was fun and laughter. There was music and dancing. There were police-people standing by silently, patiently – with disinterest. We figured they knew that the protests were not going to get violent.

There were volunteers in the middle of the road, requesting us to switch off our headlights. Requesting us to proceed slowly. Guiding us with hand signals and hoarse voices. Volunteers who had the sweat pouring off their foreheads.

I’ve spent a bit of time on the Science Express (a Government of India – DST project), so I know how difficult it is to stand from 9.30 am to 6.30 pm in an AC coach. These volunteering kids were standing out in the hot sun. Some, for the whole day. Some, for just a while.

I turned to my wife and remarked  “These volunteers cannot be paid! There’s no way one can buy such dedication with money!!”

Between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi.


Roughly when we were halfway down the road, we decided to enter the beach area and park our bike. We wanted to be in the thick of it all – not missing anything. We really felt (and thought) that history was being made then and there – and we were determined to be a part of it.

Once we entered the beach area, it was relatively easy to find a parking spot and park the bike. We then started walking back towards the Indian flag.

As we passed people in several clusters and mini-groups, and many others who were just walking about – happy to just be there and show solidarity, we saw signs of different kinds and calibres. There were sign boards simply asking for a revoke of the Jallikattu ban. There were signs calling for stronger decisions, such as banning organisations that petitioned for the ban. And I was left with translating some smartly written, witty Tamil signs to my wife (who can’t read Tamil).

The signs and slogans varied in intensity and quality. There were masks of cows – store-bought and home-made. There were devils’ horns being worn to symbolize the bulls that take part in Jallikattu.

Then we came upon a mini-group holding a poster with Bharathiyar’s likeness on it. A Tamil poet, his words, “Jaathigal illayadi paappa” (There are no castes, child) are known to every Tamilian, as much as they know to speak the language itself. A renowned man. A great man.

Happy satisfaction welled up in my heart upon seeing this. That people were referencing some of the greatest minds in Tamil history.

Between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi.


There are some, who, in online forums and in personal conversations, have told me that we (the people of Tamil Nadu) should be Indians first, and Tamilians next. I try to explain to them that to be Tamilian, is to be Indian. Every Tamilian is after all, an Indian by definition.

After all, can we blame those who say such things? There are Tamilians asking for a separate country. There are Tamilians who support militants and terrorists in Sri Lanka. There are Tamilians who go against the very definition of peace, and a country united in diversity.

Thankfully, those are not the only Tamilians around!

Others, like the lakhs and lakhs of people gathered at the Marina beach over six days, defined the meaning of a peaceful protest. They defied the saying that you need money and incentives to gather a crowd. They defied the notion that women can’t be safe in a crowd. At night. In Western clothes. In India. They defied every single accusation that’s been bandied about, with respect to the gathering of crowds in our fair and heritage-rich country.

Along with these wonderful Tamilians walking beside us, with us, at the Marina that day, I remembered other Tamil greats like Kodi Kaatha Kumaran (Kumaran Who Safeguarded the Flag, who held on to the Indian flag during a peaceful protest, even though the ruling British beat him – even to his death) and Kappal Ottiya Thamazhan (Tamilian Who Steered a Ship, V. O. Chidambaram). And my heart soared, with delight.

Between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi.


What after all, is the Indian flag? Let’s not confuse ourselves here. The flag isn’t a symbol to be held sacrosanct, unquestionably, beyond every other human or humane, logical reasoning. But it is a symbol that helps drive unity, that fosters sibling-hood, and engenders a sense of freedom and equality.

It rallied our people around it, to fight against the British. Peacefully. And it rallies us, time and again, when we are divided along the lines of religion, caste, creed or any other notion. To protest and outrage against injustice.

And what of Mahatma Gandhi? A symbol of how to gain independence peacefully, he is a world icon to protesters and revolutionary leaders everywhere, of how to fight without raising a fist.

That is exactly what we were witnessing here, then. Lakhs and lakhs of protesters, joined in unity. Rallying around a cause. To simply say, “Don’t force us.” To inform the Supreme Court of its overreach in this matter (at least, as they saw it). And protesting peacefully.

Between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi.


The day after the next, on Monday, things went downhill. While it isn’t exactly clear as to who hurled the proverbial ‘first stone’, this much is clear – a group of rowdy goons and a few members of the police force behaved in a manner that was completely unworthy of the Tamil greats I’ve mentioned earlier in this passage. Stones were gathered. Fires were lit. People were beaten. Brutally.

The peace was destroyed.

And the whole world called the protest, “Shameful”.
Why focus on the lakhs and lakhs of peaceful protestors who sat in vigilance for six continuous days, when you can easily point fingers at the less-than-hundred-or-so civilians and members of the police force, who acted out on that day? Easier to point fingers, than to applaud peaceful protests.

Or so it seems.

But somewhere amidst all this, somewhere in the hearts of people, something is alive. A spirit. A spirit of defiance. While at peace. A spirit that cannot be quelled or killed. A spirit that can be rallied together to stand up for ourselves, if the time should ever come.

If that time should come, I happily look forward to joining my spirit with theirs and standing beside them. In peaceful protest. For freedom and justice.

Between the Indian flag and Mahatma Gandhi.