It happens only in India. It took a foreigner answering by the name of Gregory David Roberts to teach me this lesson, this lesson about the India I was too blind not to see.
I used to believe that Indians are fickle minded. The unnecessary hype surrounding every cricket match, the furore raised after every loss, the euphoria after each victory, used to give me a headache each time I think about India and its sports. Yes, when it comes to finance and the like, we Indians play safe. We tend to secure our life with a steady income job rather than taking risks in a high paying business gamble. But when it comes to matters of the heart, we are fickle.
I used to hope it was the other way round, but now I realise, though we should change our financial habits to better adapt to the dynamic globalised world, when it comes to the heart and the soul, we rule. India is the only place where you can be God one moment and the devil incarnate the next. It is this fickle nature of our minds that makes us special. Every joy, every sorrow, has an explanation by the Indian heart. It is only here that even seemingly unrelated events are given an indelible connection. India thus becomes the land of stories, stories that seem so wierd yet so true. That makes India special and finally, I can say this, I am proud to be an Indian.