15th August. --- Happy Enslavement Day!
A day when we wake up, put up the tricolour, listen to patriotic songs, watch speeches, post “Happy Independence Day” on social media, and proudly remind ourselves that India became free on this day.
And yes — we should celebrate independence.
But perhaps, once in a while, we should also stop and ask an uncomfortable question:
And more importantly—
Not as a nation on a map.
Not according to what is written in a history textbook.
But YOU.
You, sitting here and reading this article.
Are you truly free?
What does freedom actually mean?
Most of us have grown up with a very simple definition of independence.
Foreign rulers left.
India became a sovereign country.
We got our Constitution.
We got the right to vote.
We can choose our profession, start a business, travel, speak, study and live our lives.
So, naturally, we say: “We are free.”
But freedom is a much bigger idea than simply not having a foreign ruler.
Imagine a person who is technically free to make choices, but spends his entire life doing things he never really chose.
He studies what he is told to study.
He chooses a career because everyone says it is “successful.”
He spends years chasing money because society tells him that money means success.
He buys things he doesn't necessarily need because advertising tells him he needs them.
He pays taxes without really understanding how the larger system works.
He votes for people and then spends the next five years complaining about them.
He follows social expectations because questioning them is uncomfortable.
He inherits beliefs, identities and opinions from family, society, community and social media.
And eventually, he looks around and says:
“This is life.”
But is it?
Maybe the most dangerous form of control is the one we don't recognise.
When we think about slavery, we imagine chains.
We imagine prisons.
We imagine someone standing over us with a weapon.
But what if control doesn't always look like that?
What if a person can be controlled through fear, dependency, social pressure, money, status, misinformation, conditioning and the fear of being different?
And what if that person doesn't even feel controlled?
That is where the question becomes uncomfortable.
Because if you can see the chains, you can try to break them.
But what if… you don't even know that they are there?
On Independence Day, perhaps we should ask better questions.
Not: “Is India independent?”
We already know the historical answer.
Instead: “Are its people thinking independently?”
- Are we willing to question things simply because they have always been done that way?
- Are we willing to question our political beliefs?
- Our economic beliefs?
- Our definition of success?
- Our education system?
- Our understanding of money?
- Our social identities?
- Our assumptions about religion, caste and society?
- Or do we automatically defend whatever we have already been taught to believe?
Because there is a huge difference between having the freedom to think and actually thinking freely.
And this is where things get interesting.
Think about your own life.
You wake up. You work. You earn. You spend. You save. You pay bills. You pay taxes. You plan for the future. You worry about inflation. You try to build a career. You try to provide a better life for your family.
You try to become “successful.”
And then one day you realise that decades have passed.
But somewhere along the way, you may have forgotten to ask:
“Who decided that this is what a successful life should look like?”
That's not a political question.
That's a personal one.
And perhaps that's why it is so uncomfortable.
What if some of the things we call “normal” deserve another look?
Take money, for example.
Most people understand money only at the most basic level:
Work → Earn → Spend → Save.
Simple.
But the moment you start asking deeper questions, things become much more complicated.
- Where does money actually come from?
- Why does its purchasing power change?
- Why does inflation exist?
- Who benefits and who loses when the value of money changes?
- How much of what you earn actually remains yours after taxes and rising costs?
- And what exactly are citizens getting in return for the money they contribute to the system?
These aren't questions most of us discuss over dinner. But perhaps we should.
The book -- The country of cowards: India -- goes much deeper into these questions.
It doesn't simply ask you to accept the author's conclusions. The book repeatedly pushes the reader toward questioning the systems around them and, where applicable, examining the evidence and references provided.
If these questions have ever crossed your mind, this is where you should stop reading this article and start reading the book.
Then there is the word “success.”
This one is even more interesting.
Ask almost anyone what they want from life.
The answers will often sound familiar:
- A good education.
- A good job.
- A good income.
- A house.
- A car.
- Financial security.
- Social respect.
- A comfortable life.
Nothing wrong with any of that.
But here's the question:
Did you choose these things — or were you trained to want them?
Think about it.
From childhood, we are repeatedly told what a “good life” looks like.
Get good marks.
Get a good degree.
Get a good job.
Earn more.
Buy more.
Achieve more.
Become more successful.
And if you don't follow the same path?
You are often made to feel that something is wrong with you.
But what if success means something different?
What if earning more money does not automatically mean living a better life?
What if a person can be financially successful and still be deeply unhappy?
What if society's definition of success is not necessarily the same as YOUR definition of a meaningful life?
These questions form another important layer of --- The country of cowards: India.
But I won't spoil the book by telling you where the author takes this argument.
If you want to explore it, read it yourself.
And then comes something even more difficult: responsibility.
We often complain about our country.
- The roads are bad.
- The system is slow.
- Corruption exists.
- Politicians make promises.
- Public services don't work the way they should.
- Prices keep rising.
- Jobs are difficult.
- Education is expensive.
- Healthcare is expensive.
And so on.
We have endless complaints.
But here's a question we don't like nearly as much:
What is our responsibility as citizens?
If we believe something is wrong, do we actually understand how the system works?
Do we know what our rights are?
Do we know what our responsibilities are?
Do we know how public institutions function?
Do we understand the Constitution?
Do we know how to demand accountability?
Or do we simply complain to our friends, forward a WhatsApp message, post something angry on Instagram and then go back to our normal lives?
There is a difference between being angry and being an informed citizen.
And the book spends considerable time exploring that difference.
Perhaps the biggest problem isn't that people don't care.
Perhaps it is that people have become tired.
- Tired of politics.
- Tired of corruption.
- Tired of arguments.
- Tired of trying to change things.
- Tired of being disappointed.
So eventually they say: “શું ફરક પડે છે?” -- What difference does it make?
And that sentence may be more dangerous than it sounds.
Because once a society collectively decides that nothing can change, accountability becomes almost impossible.
People stop asking.
People stop demanding.
People stop questioning.
And slowly…
silence becomes normal.
But there is another side to this.
Questioning everything doesn't mean believing every conspiracy.
It doesn't mean hating the government.
It doesn't mean blindly supporting the opposition.
It doesn't mean rejecting religion.
It doesn't mean rejecting education.
It doesn't mean assuming that every institution is corrupt.
And it certainly doesn't mean becoming angry at everyone around you.
It means learning to think.
To separate fact from assumption.
To question claims.
To look at evidence.
To understand how things actually work.
And to have enough intellectual courage to say:
“I might be wrong. Let me check.”
That attitude is much more powerful than simply having strong opinions.
This is what makes -- The country of cowards: India -- an uncomfortable book.
It doesn't stay comfortably inside one category.
- It starts with questions about money and economics.
- Then it moves toward politics and power.
- Then freedom.
- Then success.
- Then society.
- Then identity.
- Then education.
- Then religion and caste.
And eventually, the question comes back to the individual.
YOU.
Not the politician.
Not the businessman.
Not the teacher.
Not the government employee.
Not your neighbour.
Simply, YOU!
Because at some point, blaming the system becomes easy.
Looking at our own role is much harder.
And that's exactly why I don't want to tell you everything this book contains.
Because if I reveal all the arguments here, I will destroy the reason for you to read it.
The book is meant to be experienced as a series of questions.
Some will make you nod. Some will irritate you.
Some may challenge things you have believed for years.
And some may simply make you sit quietly for a few minutes and think:
“Wait… I never looked at it that way.”
That's the kind of reading experience this book is trying to create.
So, on this Independence Day…
By all means, celebrate.
Put up the flag.
Wish your friends.
Respect the people who fought for India's independence.
Be proud of the country.
But after the celebrations are over…
take a few minutes for yourself.
Turn off Instagram.
Put the political shouting aside.
Forget what your favourite leader says.
Forget what your opponent says.
And ask yourself a few honest questions.
Am I really thinking for myself?
Do I understand the systems that affect my life?
Have I chosen my definition of success — or inherited it?
Do I question what I believe, or only what others believe?
When I see something wrong, do I act — or simply complain?
And perhaps the most uncomfortable question of all:
If I am free… why do I sometimes feel like I have no choice?
Maybe that is the real meaning of Independence Day.
Independence isn't only about remembering the day a country became free.
It can also be an opportunity to ask whether the people living in that country continue to think, question and act freely.
Because political independence can be declared on a date.
Mental independence has to be achieved by each individual.
And nobody can give that to you.
Not a government.
Not a political party.
Not a teacher.
Not a parent.
Not a book.
You have to choose it yourself.
And perhaps that is where -- The country of cowards: India -- begins.
Not with a conclusion.
Not with a political slogan.
But with an uncomfortable question:
“What if the life you think is free… isn't as free as you believe?”
If that question bothers you, good.
Don't accept it blindly.
Don't reject it blindly either.
Investigate it.
Read.
Think.
Question.
Check the evidence.
And then decide for yourself.
Read -- The country of cowards: India
Because perhaps the most important thing you can do on Independence Day isn't simply to celebrate freedom…, but to find out what freedom actually means to you.
Happy Independence Day.
Or perhaps, for today at least—
Happy Enslavement Day to You All.
Now go ahead. Disagree with me.
But first… read the book!
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