We make wishes and they are blown away by time, breath on a thistledown scattering away the fairy-like petals until nothing is left but the core. And isn't it the core that matters?
When the flesh falls away from the bone and all other things rot, what is left behind is real. And substantial and pure.
What is left of India after 60 years is its skeleton, its core. And there are problems, of course, but despite it all, there she stands. And today, of all days, I want to overlook the issues, the problems, the things that did not go so well and just bask in a grand idea that became a reality. And what a reality.
Just as we are 13 years later, a reality that few would have predicted.
I love you.