"The people," President K R Narayanan quoted Mahatma Gandhi on August 15, 1997, "have the right to call their servants to account. They may approach the police or even the lower courts for justice." Given his sentiments on "witch-hunts", it is small wonder that I K Gujral seemed to choke while reading out the Hindi translation of the presidential address.
But why was the prime minister of India doing a translator's job at the historic midnight session in the central hall of Parliament? That could easily have been left to someone else. If Gujral wanted to speak -- and he had every right to do so -- he could easily have spoken for himself.
Today, we recall only Jawaharlal Nehru's 'tryst with destiny' speech (which, of course, wasn't translated by one of his colleagues into Hindi). But there were others who spoke on the night of August 14-15, 1947 -- including, as I recall, Dr Rajendra Prasad and Dr Radhakrishnan.
Fifty years later, the only proper speech came form the President. Other than some brief remarks from the speaker, the only others to the heard were a slightly off-key Bhimsen Joshi and Lata Mangeshkar!
That wasn't all that was off-key. What should have been a solemn ceremony was reduced to a bit of a mockery. I am sure there was no deliberate intent to offend, but the 1997 session proved just how far we have trampled on the hopes of 1947.
Try as we might, we couldn't see any freedom fighters in the places of honour (other than Gujral himself). The veterans of the struggle for Independence weren't allowed inside Parliament House by security-conscious policemen.
Men like Nijalingappa and C Subramaniam, who had served in the Constituent Assembly, weren't even invited to Delhi. This, perhaps, was just as well, considering the way the "guests" were treated.
A group of over 70 freedom fighters came from Andhra Pradesh. But Andhra Pradesh Bhacan's air-conditioned rooms were shut to them. So they had to stay miles away in a dusty hall, with just two bathrooms to serve them all. Even the British were kinder!
And at the historic moment itself, all the invited freedom fighters were on Rajpath. They received the spontaneous, heart-felt tribute of the crowds there. But shouldn't the government have done its bit, treating them with greater civility (if not respect)?
But it wasn't just the VIPs of yesterday who were being cold-shouldered in Central Hall. MPs from both Houses were seen standing or sharing chairs -- their allotted seats had been grabbed by others. (Some, like Dr Jagannath Mishra, walked out fuming.)
They weren't the only ones left standing. The ever-courteous Dr Manmohan Singh sacrificed his own chair for Justice S P Bharucha of the Supreme Court. Why did he have to do so?
In desperation, some of the invitees left the floor of Central Hall. To the amusement of the assembled scribes, Finance Secretary Montek Singh Ahluwalia and Revenue Secretary N K Singh were seen in the press gallery.
But why blame mere bureaucrats? Even the three chiefs of the armed forces couldn't guard their own seats! If freedom fighters weren't invited, if MPs and Supreme Court judges, civil servants and soldiers were made to feel unwanted, who were the VIPs?
For starters, Sonia Gandhi and her progeny. Two men from the elite SPG were seen reserving chairs for Priyanka Gandhi and Robert Vadra. India may claim to be a republic, but the dynastic principle is alive and kicking.
In 1947, the press noted that the Indian princess had boycotted the ceremony. In 1997, the modern maharajas were to be seen everywhere. And I don't mean just the descendants of royal houses, but industrialists too. (The lieutenant governor of Delhi got a chair thanks to the charity of one.)
The wives and children of these millionaires snapped up whatever space was left. One of these VVIP scions was seen running around with a video camera, as through it was nothing more than a cocktail party. Wiping "every tear from every eye" seemed a pledge from another age.
The scenes of popular rejoicing on Rajpath contrasted painfully with the dismal chaos inside Parliament House. But the organisers of the 'official' function weren't paying attention.
"The past is over," Nehru said on August 15, 1947, "and it is the future that beckons." Fifty years later, the organisers acted in a truly Nehruvian spirit. They forgot the past -- the freedom fighters. And they embraced the future -- the millionaires!
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