It is that time of the year again. Glitter and glow is in vogue. It is time to celebrate Independence Day. Each year we cross this path and each year, besides getting a year older, what do we do? Do we assess whether we are where we are supposed to be or is it still foggy ahead? Call me whatever but I still see plenty of fog ahead. My rather not-so-optimistic view stems from the rear view mirror behind us and it has plenty of that. With that said, before my critics jump on their keyboards to write the usual scathing e-mails with some rather peculiar tones and not so pleasant titles for me, I say what I see. I may say something that you dislike or disagree with but I have to say what I see from my point of view. Sixty-eight years old and we are still confused about who we are and what we are supposed to be. We are segregated into our tribes, ethnic groups, regions and languages but rarely get to reflect on a collective, cohesive identity. That national fervour, that emotional showing is reserved for certain days and certain occasions. Be it a cricket match, some contest, catastrophe or for a day on August 14 you see that rather questionable display. Otherwise, we are a hotch potch of so much and, yes, it is quite depressing. To simply define patriotism, it is meant to be anything against our archrival neighbour. Anything that shows up those ‘cunning’, ‘conniving’ millions on the other side of Wagah is a certificate of unquestioned nationalism at its ultimate best. That is the story perhaps on the other side as well. But that is just the surface. Beneath the surface and that lid, you seek some more and try to dig a bit further at the question of what that independence really means, you get some rather confused answers. The notion of driving the Brits out is peddled and celebrated as the idea of independence. We have that additional freebie of not being part of the “evil grocer’s” land. Scratch your head all you want but I see a lot of confusion. The land of the ‘pure’ where the Muslim majority of the subcontinent was going to thrive and take charge of the ummah as the great Allama Muhammad Iqbal once dreamt, is still a few million miles away from that foggy reality. The majority Muslim provinces were supposed to guard their fellow brethren from the evil grocer’s evil exploitation.The economic disparity that prevailed between the groups was going to wither, as the bells of freedom were going to be rung. The thorny question that comes up and stares us in the eye is: where did we drop the ball? The ugly fact that most of the great philosophers, thinkers and leaders overlooked was that human nature does not alter with religion. The exploitation that our patriotic lot associates with the Brits and the ‘grocers’ is rampant in the promised land where the ‘pure’ believers dwell. Muslim on Muslim violence is quite shamefully high and greed, corruption and nepotism are what create monstrous impediments in the path of thousands, if not millions. The land is mine undoubtedly; I am free if you say it but free of what? My critics often find me stuck in this capsule. I am afraid my brain is wired for the same unanswered question. If I question something, I may not be like the rest. Perhaps not. My take, for whatever it is worth, is that freedom is an abstract and debatable concept. If a commoner cannot enjoy the exact equal rights of others, be it freedom of speech, access to basic and essential health, education in the modern age and economic opportunities that give him or her the assurance of a better future, what freedom does he or she have? Perhaps freedom to breathe. If he or she is the inhabitant of the city of lights, may God help him or her in that area too.The class structure, disparity between the haves and have nots, the ever-growing number of people who may not be able to provide a penny’s worth of contribution to the economic cycle, all paint a rather bleak picture. If you look even deeper, economic prosperity gives people opportunities to advance and expand. Claustrophobic minds get unlocked and people tend to feel free. When stomachs are full, brains go into overdrive and start to think positively. Poverty enslaves you in its very nasty and ugly trap. My rather blunt opinion as usual is that this so-called freedom has not given much to a commoner, on either side. His or her life has remained unchanged, whether it was the Mughal emperor, a viceroy or his personally elected representative in his very own assembly. The faces have changed but the bitter truth still remains the same. The cost of this glorious freedom was paid by the commoner on either side with his or her life; 68 years and counting, he or she is still waiting to reap its benefit. The writer is a Pakistani-US mortgage banker. He blogs at http://dasghar.blogspot.com and can be reached at dasghar@aol.com. He tweets at http://twitter.com/dasghar