Yet another year of Independence, with parades, speeches and patriotic pride. Kodagu watches from the sidelines, not just with pride but also with pain. We hoist the tricolour, we sing the Anthem with love for our country. But we cannot silence a pressing question: Do we really enjoy freedom in Kodagu? Deep inside, a sobering thought lingers.
As the rest of the country celebrates another year of Independence with patriotic fervour, Kodagu stands quietly, watching, remembering and questioning. Yes, we are proud Indians, but we are also proud Kodavas, and it is time we asked not just whether we are free as a nation, but whether we are truly free in Kodagu.
True freedom is not only about independence from British rule. It is about the freedom to live with dignity, to protect one’s land, to preserve one’s identity and to voice concerns without fear or neglect. But are we free to do that in Kodagu today?
Can we claim that freedom exists here when an elderly woman in Kodagu had to fall at the feet of the Deputy Commissioner pleading for just a roof over her head? That heart-wrenching image is not just an incident; it reflects a pattern of systematic apathy faced by the people of this land. Shame on the authorities. Is this the freedom we celebrate every year?
Kodagu’s hills and forests, once rich and protected, are now sacrificed in the name of “development”. Roads have widened, tourist resorts have mushroomed, trees fall, rivers dry, and heritage homes disappear under commercial concrete. The once-breathing green cover of Kodagu now gasps under the weight of greed. Locals who dare to question are often ignored or labelled as “anti-progress”. Is this freedom, when our very survival is threatened by policies made far away from our soil, our struggles and our reality?
Kodagu is not just a place; it is a way of life. But our culture, our festivals, our language and our traditional wisdom are slowly being pushed aside. Today we are marketed as a tourist destination but rarely respected as a living, breathing community with a soul. Are we free when our traditions are turned into performances and our heritage is reduced to hashtags?
If freedom means the right to be heard, then Kodagu is still waiting. From land encroachment to forest rights, from neglected infrastructure to worsening living conditions, our cries are met with indifference. How can we call ourselves free when a mother, a farmer, a student or a soldier’s widow must beg for basic rights in a supposedly independent nation?
This Independence Day, let us ask difficult but necessary questions:
- What does freedom mean to a land where the elderly still sleep under leaking roofs?
- What does it mean when landslides steal lives yet no concrete action follows?
- What is freedom when the hills cry and those in power close their ears?
We owe it to our ancestors, to our land and to the next generation to fight not just for freedom, but for meaningful freedom. Let us not just wave the flag, let us raise our voice. Let Kodagu be heard, let our struggles be seen. Because until the people of Kodagu live with dignity, security and respect, we are not truly free.
KODANDERA MAMATHA SUBBAIAH
