Fifty-four years and one day is a long time. Long enough for some simple dreams to have come true. But we still dream of drinking water, uninterrupted power supply, reasonably priced vegetables and pulses. And of walking down the street after dusk without being mugged. Why do most of us feel chained in independent India? I have simple dreams. I want to walk without the fear of being run over by rich teenagers whose parents have given them BMWs to play with. Or by a bus driver who does not have a licence. Freedom should have given us a sense of pride and belonging. And security. I often want to walk into a police station to protest against the many unlawful activities I notice around. But I do not. I do not want to complicate my life further. My dreams are so simple they could be real. Like calling my wife Geeta and asking her to take a bus to meet me in the heart of town for a candlelit dinner. But I do not want her to get into a bus, as we still have not discovered the art of respecting women. When can I sleep without fearing that a gang of criminals will loot my house? Why has a teenaged girl in my city who was raped chosen not to file a complaint? She feels she will be humiliated a hundred times by the police. And after that, the lawyer will ask her questions that no self-respecting woman can answer. Why was one of my female friends booed in the middle of a busy street at 9.30am by a group of thugs? They laughed at her when she threatened to report them. She did. Nothing happened. Freedom should at least give common citizens like her faith in her country's system of justice. It has not. How many years will it take for us to hire an autorickshaw without the fear of being cheated? Things are so bad that even when one deals with an honest driver one feels one is being cheated. When can we get a railway reservation without a tout? Or a cooking gas connection without a recommendation? Freedom has no meaning if it cannot improve our lives. It must add value to it, prevent it from degeneration. Look at our power situation. Most cities have load shedding. And many villages go without power for most of the day. No one protests. We are slowly becoming a nation of impotent people. Why cannot I walk on the banks of the Ganga without feeling suffocated? Why has a sparkling river turned into a gutter of poison? Why do rich industrialists have the option of emptying their waste into our rivers? In the capital city of New Delhi, vultures are dying as they feed on carcasses of dead animals -- there is an excess of pesticides in their flesh, you see. Just think of what is happening to our bodies. I have to think twice before drinking water. Where is it from? Is it safe? If we could enact all those laws we have enacted, why could we not create one that would prevent adulteration? I do not want to be singled out by the rest of the world. I do not want them to say: He belongs to the most illiterate country. Or that India has the maximum number of tuberculosis or leprosy patients in the world. It hurts when I am told that Varanasi is one of the dirtiest cities in the world. This ancient city could have showcased India's culture and tradition. Does freedom mean throwing garbage on the streets? I dream of government offices that work. I dream of being punished for things like wasting water. Soon, we will have none to waste. I want us to be punished for littering, polluting and not paying taxes. I dream of a nation that takes pride in its work culture, in the excellence of what it produces. Laws are meant for all of us. But some are more equal than others. If you and I break a minor traffic law, we are fined. But others can drive without licences, jump traffic lights, run over pedestrians -- and still be free. You need to be qualified to get a job. Our children are put through laborious interviews for an admission to nursery school. But my ministers are never asked if they are qualified to run the government! I want my defence minister to understand the value of a jawan. I want my education minister to know the power of literacy. I do not want him to change my son's history books to suit his party's line. I want my home minister to be strong enough to allow the law to take its course against a politician who has stashed away millions of unaccounted rupees in his bathroom. I want a law minister who will not allow his judges to be trampled upon by politicians. We misinterpreted freedom. We thought it was okay when a politician spent millions shopping for sarees, jewellery and slippers. We could have told her she should use the money to provide electricity to her villages. We did not protest when a governor spent millions furnishing his house. We voted criminals into power. We used our freedom to permit them to destroy our present and future. We did not use it to improve our lives, to make India the greatest country in the world. We think we are free. We are not. We gave our freedom away. But if we want, we can still get it back. Ramesh Menon is a romantic -- and an optimist. Illustration: Dominic Xavier Tell us what you think of this diary
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