Love for one’s country

Shantanu Thakur

(thakur.santanu@gmail.com)

When our motherland is still not fully out of the trauma of the terrorist
outrage at Pahalgam and after, an incident from the past surfaced in my mind which is relevant to highlight the trauma such atrocities inflict on people anywhere and why the whole world should stand united together against the monster of terrorism.

Rosemary Vallenti happens to be a cute little American lady, rather on the wrong side of life, whom I met by chance in New York during the official celebrations of ‘India at Sixty’ in 2007. Assam Tourism had set up shop at the South Sea Front, and we were desperately looking for a local hand to man the counter, one who could interact better than us with the thronging crowd of that bustling city. A top brass of Air India recommended Rosemary, as she had some time earlier worked for their New York office before retiring and was willing to take on fresh windfall work coming her way. Rosemary, he said, was highly popular with the Indian crowd there and was also a Native American. Air India’s sense of humour had nicknamed her ‘Ghulaabi’, which, when I come to think of it now, was, in fact, quite appropriate for an amiable, radiant persona with her wrinkled face always wreathed in smiles. And we struck a deal.

Her exuberance, energy and sincerity had to be seen to be believed. In just one hour of briefing she familiarized herself with the background on the Assam tourism product and was enthusiastically talking to visitors about it. Our moment of hilarity was when, unaware of his identity, Rosemary started explaining the uniqueness of the one-horned rhino to the Chief Minister of Assam who was, nevertheless, pleasantly thrilled! Neatly handling her work, she would not seek assistance from anybody and would jump onto stools to fix a photo frame with a wink for the benefit of us babus!

Over a glass of Tennessee sour mash in her elegant parlour, I had asked her innocently what she thought could be the reason behind the 9/11 attack at the World Trade Centre. Rosemary’s countenance almost contorted in anguish. Spontaneous tears welled up in her eyes to flow down her shrivelled cheeks. Through muffled sobs she said, “It’s not really the Centre, Santana; it’s America itself they have pounced on! Maybe because we are not loved, you know, maybe because we have not learnt to love. You know, it makes me so sad!” A poignant silence filled the room as she wept on and took her time to gather up.

The image of the tearful Rosemary has been haunting me since the Pahalgam tragedy as we feel the pain. Until now, I hadn’t quite come across people in our country shedding honest tears. Pahalgam has brought that out of our shells. Rosemary will understand. So should the POTUS.