Srinika Chowdhury of class 6 shares this inspiring story of her renewed pride in India after a chance encounter with a British gentleman in Mendabari village.
If I tell you I am proud of India, you might say, “Well, you’re an Indian; it’s only natural.” So, why mention it at all? Because there’s a story behind my pride, an experience I’ll never forget that reminded me why India is so special.
It happened on a Sunday, during a school trip organized by Epic Public School to Mendabari, a small village in Alipurduar district. For those unfamiliar, my school has adopted Mendabari, running a free school there to help support local education. We were heading over to witness the inauguration of a new building for the school—a significant event, but one that initially seemed like a routine affair. Little did I know that it would be anything but.
As we arrived, the village was bustling, with villagers and students gathered around the newly constructed building. But what caught my eye was a group of foreigners standing at the side of the stage, all intently watching the proceedings. One of them, a tall, wiry man in his late forties, particularly stood out. His name was Arthur Pennington, and he had this unmistakable aura about him—like he’d seen a lot of the world but was still curious to see more. His tousled brown hair was just starting to go grey at the temples, and his deep-set eyes had a twinkle that hinted at a sense of humour beneath his reserved expression. He wore a classic tweed jacket, a crisp button-down shirt, and polished Oxford shoes, embodying that quintessential English gentleman look.
When Mr. Pennington took the stage, his smooth, steady voice filled the air, captivating us immediately. “You know,” he began, adjusting his spectacles with an excited glimmer, “there are places in India where you’ll see deserts, jungles, mountains, and beaches—all within the same land. The colors, the people, the sounds… it’s as if every corner tells a new story.” He looked around, catching the curious, giggling faces of the children, who were amused by his British accent. “But what I love most,” he continued, his voice warmer, “is how despite all these differences, people here still come together. They share festivals, traditions, and stories, no matter where they’re from or what they believe.”
He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I’ve lived in many countries, traveled across continents, but there’s something here… in the spirit of this place… that I haven’t found anywhere else. That’s why I’ve decided to make this my home.” The silence that followed was profound; his words had struck a chord in all of us, and his affection for India felt genuine. One of the younger students, bolder than the rest, called out, “Will you teach us more, sir?”
He laughed, his face lighting up as he nodded, “Of course, my young friends! We’re just getting started.”
As the ceremony concluded, I couldn’t help but think about Mr. Pennington’s words. His amazement at India’s beauty and diversity resonated deeply with me. Here was a foreigner, someone who didn’t grow up here, but who still saw the magic of our land as vividly as I did—perhaps even more so. And he was right; there’s nowhere else quite like India. Where else can you find so many languages, traditions, and festivals coexisting harmoniously?
It’s in our daily lives too—our culture is woven into everything we do. Our festivals, for example, are vibrant and deeply rooted in tradition, yet they’re celebrated by all, regardless of language, religion, or background. Diwali, Eid, Christmas, Durga Puja… each one is a celebration that feels like it belongs to all of us. I realized that this unity, this sense of shared celebration, is part of what makes India remarkable. And, of course, I can’t forget our food! Just the other day, I read that Indian cuisine is among the top ten cuisines loved worldwide. From rich curries to fragrant spices, our food reflects our history, our diversity, and our warmth.
I’ve always known these things, of course, but sometimes it takes an outsider’s admiration to see your home through fresh eyes. Mr. Pennington reminded me of what I often take for granted. India is not just my country; it’s a land of stories, flavors, and colors, of resilience and unity. So, when I say I’m proud to be an Indian, it’s not just words. It’s a feeling, a gratitude for belonging to a place so unique, so profoundly beautiful.
Now, you tell me—how could I not be proud of my country?
