As the nation celebrates the 77th Anniversary of Independence, memories of freedom from my life begin to unfold like a film. Back in the 1950s, I was part of a well-organized crowd of children greeting Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru as he travelled in an open car. There were no security checks at airports or railway stations. Even in 1962, I witnessed Prime Minister Nehru moving through the roads of Delhi in an open car, accompanied by the foreign dignitary Tunku Abdul Rahman. There was no stoppage of traffic and no large contingents of vehicles.

During my visit to the USA in 1984, airport security there was also minimal. Occasionally, a person in plain clothes would inspect my camera as I boarded a domestic flight. Even after the unfortunate act of terror on September 11, 2001, which put a brake on the freedom of ordinary, peaceful citizens, I don’t recall seeing elaborate security at Kastrup Airport in Copenhagen, Denmark, or elsewhere. Even the Danish Royal Family moved freely among their people with minimal security. Ordinary citizens felt secure, placing full faith in democracy and law enforcement in democratic countries. But that event in 2001 changed our lives.

During my work-related visits to Europe and Denmark, I noticed an increasing sense of suspicion from immigration authorities over the years. On one occasion, despite presenting an invitation letter from the Foreign Ministry of Denmark to conduct interviews for Expatriate Advisers on Danish International Development Agency (DANIDA) projects in India, an immigration officer insisted on checking the balance on my credit card. I showed him my ID card issued by the Embassy and politely refused his request. Fortunately, he did not press further, but I felt the sting of restricted freedom—a consequence of the actions of a terrorist from our neighbouring country, leading to a sense of being unfairly typecast. This experience resonates with the sentiment expressed in Shah Rukh Khan’s movie “My Name is Khan,” where he poignantly declares, “My name is Khan, and I am not a terrorist.”

Coming back to India, after 9/11, politicians have used the event as an excuse to promote a VIP culture. It has become a matter of prestige and a perceived right to walk surrounded by black cat commandos. It’s seen as dishonourable if an elected representative’s security is downgraded, and they protest. Yet, from my perspective, a downgrade should be welcomed as it signifies that their lives are assessed to be at lesser risk and gives them an opportunity to be less alienated from the people who voted them to power. But who cares for the voice or security needs of an ordinary law-abiding citizen! Law enforcement agencies are so busy protecting our representatives that they lack resources to enforce the law.

In all of this, the freedom of ordinary, peaceful citizens is severely compromised. I miss the hawkers selling fruits and vegetables in my colony with their melodious voices, as Resident Welfare Associations (RWAs) now restrict entry after verification—rightly so, but this also restricts the freedom of these small business owners. Driving to the market, one is greeted by parking mafias demanding fees, even if you haven’t parked within their domain. It’s easier to pay and avoid hassle, but this curtails my freedom.

Protests like those by farmers at the Delhi border or those at Shaheen Bagh over the Citizenship Amendment Act hold traffic hostage, restricting the freedom of ordinary citizens who have no stake in these issues. It seems that every section of society now seeks attention by becoming unruly and troublesome. With due respect to Bhaktas of Bhole Baba (Shiva devotees), who take the Kavad to Haridwar with blaring music, I submit that this could be done without disturbing others on the road. Similarly, Friday prayers should not block roads, restricting the freedom of defenceless citizens. But this continues because there’s a belief that aggression brings power.

Being in India, I cannot remain indifferent to the events in our region. I recall 1971 when millions of refugees from Bangladesh sought refuge in India as the West Pakistani regime resorted to violence, including killings and rapes, to suppress the movement for an independent Bangladesh. Just a few years later, on August 15, 1975, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the founding father of Bangladesh, was assassinated during a military coup along with most of his family members at his residence in Dhaka. This tragic event marked a significant turning point in Bangladesh’s history.

Despite the change in regime, illegal migration from Bangladesh to India continued, facilitated by corruption at our porous borders. Many migrants took advantage of the loose controls in India and the vote bank politics of selfish leaders, even acquiring citizenship and significantly altering the demographic landscape in some areas.

Recently, I was alarmed by scenes on TV showing protests in the UK, where loud religious slogans were chanted, with police watching helplessly. History has shown that in times of aggression, democratic ideals, such as changing regimes through the vote, often become irrelevant. It makes me wonder if the four lakh protestors who drove Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina out of the country truly represented the majority’s will.

In times of turmoil, who cares for the freedom of the docile, or for the minorities being targeted by goons in the name of regime change? Aggression may bring power, as seen recently in Bangladesh, but it also leads to anarchy, as is evident there. Even those who advocate aggressive practices do not desire anarchy. Therefore, it becomes essential to curb chaos. As Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore wisely said, “I have on my table a violin string. It is free to move in any direction I like. If I twist one end of it, it responds. But it is not free to sing. That I must do by fastening it tight at both ends.” As an ordinary citizen, I prefer order and protocols over chaos. I prefer a regulated yet secure life.

I choose to coexist with others in mutual respect and love, rather than in a culture of chaos and unruliness. Yet, it deeply pains me when some politicians turn a blind eye to the harsh realities in Bangladesh, hesitating to condemn the injustices faced by minorities there—minorities who represent the majority in my own country. But they don’t seem to care. Perhaps they believe that the majority here can be easily manipulated and divided over issues like caste, reservations, and other divisive topics come election time. Maybe so—but who will stand up for the peace-loving, law-abiding citizens in the world’s largest democracy?