It is time India cleared this air over its being. India’s nationalism is indeed about love for its geography, not people. It is about the lap on which its rich and ancient way of life was nurtured and steered, sages and saints were born, and thoughts were scripted. It is about its rivers and mountains, by and in which its history is buried and its lores are spread. The piety and truth particular to its way is partaken from the land. India is not an idea, fixed or floating, which all all and sundry can interpret and shape in his own definition. It is a living continuity with a soul embedded in its terrain, its coasts and riverbanks, sand dunes and forested mountain slopes, which reverate with temple bells and festive songs, celebratory colours and everyday observations.
India’s nationalism, the love for this land, is too vast to be borne in individual minds. It especially escapes those reshaped culturally and intellectually by alien invasive ways brought in by Islamic, Christian and communist hordes. There is nothing in the West that comes even close to the love a patriotic Indian feels for his country, for its ways incubated since hoary times, and for the towering epitomes of godliness that have arisen from its soil and strode with impeccable conduct, fullness of love and unsurpassed valour.
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