What freedom means: at Red Fort, people speak about hope, unease, equality, pride

The Tricolour had gone up over the Red Fort and the crowds had begun to thin. For Delhi’s citizens gathered to mark 80 years of Independence, what freedom meant today had answers far removed from history books.

For some, progress was visible in better infrastructure and technology. For others, it was more intimate: the freedom to walk home without fear, speak openly, or live without discrimination. And for some, eight decades after the British left, the question was whether the country had travelled far enough for everyone to feel free.

For Tanya Bahadur and Shikha Kumari, both 19 and Delhi University students, freedom was further shaped by student protests, online trolling, and the unease of speaking out.

“I have only read about people fighting the British. I have never seen that kind of struggle. But we have seen students protesting and girls being trolled even on the Internet. So I think there are still things we have to fight for before we can say that we are completely free,” Ms. Bahadur said.

Her friend, Ms. Kumari, hoped the Prime Minister would address recent protests. “He did not mention them, and I was hoping he would,” she said. “The things we need to fight now are inside the country in the face of corruption, inequality and whether everyone gets a fair chance. That is the freedom we still have to work towards.”

A few metres away, Mr. Venkatesh Sinha, in his 90s, watched the celebrations from a wheelchair beside his daughter, having witnessed much of independent India’s political history. “Economically, we are better off than before… But when I look at the poor, I wonder how much they have really moved up,” he said. He hoped the next generation could preserve freedom, adding, “I hope there are no more riots.”

Mr. Sinha attended the event in memory of his late wife. After her death a decade ago, he stopped coming. “She used to come every year. She was very patriotic…”

“I came today because I don’t know if I will be able to come again,” he said.

For a young Muslim couple, freedom meant living without constantly thinking about identity. “We all know how things have changed… there is more hatred in society. But we chose to come here today because it is our country that my grandfather sacrificed his life for. It is equally ours,” Aliza Khan, 26, said. Her husband said, “Freedom for me will be living peacefully with my family outside ghettos where civic amenities are not poor.”

For Bablu, a waste-picker, freedom required economic security. “The country has progressed, but our lives are still difficult… For us, freedom would mean not having to worry every day about whether there will be work or enough money at home,” he said.

Sharing a similar sentiment, fruit seller Md. Amzad, 37, said, “I want my children to study and get opportunities that I did not get. If they can earn well and live with dignity, I will feel that the country has truly progressed.”