Bharati was thrilled. Her principal had just informed her that she would give the Independence Day speech.
“Usually we choose a student from Std. IX; but, this year we thought we would ask you, as we were impressed with the speeches you delivered during assembly.”
Bharati was in Std. VII and everyone agreed that she was an asset to her class. Standing alone near the library, she thought about her father who encouraged her in public speaking, corrected her accent and helped her get rid of stage fear. He was in the Indian army. While on a short holiday, he had been recalled to the frontier. He was excited.
He said, “We are well paid and looked after. Now is the time to repay our nation by showing our bravery and patriotism.”
Bharati didn’t know where exactly he had been sent. If he had been at home, he would have helped her with her speech.
Bharati prepared an excellent speech, remembering Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Patel, Bhagat Singh and Subhas Chandra Bose. They were well-known all over the world for their patriotism.
August 15
Bharati looked smart in her white uniform. She pinned the flag on her chest. She was excited. Just then, the phone rang. Bharati’s mother answered and she watched as her mother’s face became pale, and she dropped the receiver and collapsed.
“What‘s wrong,” asked Bharati.
Between her sobs she said, “It’s your dad! While fighting at the frontier...he was shot dead by the enemy. They are bringing him...home.”
Bharati’s speech was excellent. At the end of it, there was a thunderous applause. When she came down, the principal smiled and said, “Congratulations Bharati. You will recieve a prize from the chief guest for your speech.”
Bharati felt tears run down her face.
“Why are you crying Bharati?” asked the Principal.
“I am sorry sir, but I cannot stay till the prize distribution because this morning I got news that my father had been shot dead. The army is sending his body back and I have to be at home with my mother to receive it.”
She walked away, out of the auditorium and all the way back home. Her legs felt heavy and her eyes full of tears. She remembered her father’s favourite quote from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, “Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.”
Her father was a valiant soldier and so was she!