Two nights before Republic Day, I had received an award — a moment that already felt special in its own right. But the real excitement was reserved for the today morning.
We woke up at 3:00 AM. By 3:45, we were all downstairs, ready to leave. The energy was unmistakable — this was not just an event on the calendar; this was Republic Day, live at Kartavya Path.
And then came that sinking moment.
I realised our passes were missing.
At first, I assumed we could get spare ones. Surely there must be a way. But when I spoke to the SRI officials, reality set in quickly. These were special passes, issued by Ministry of Defence, after Intelligence Bureau vetting — I even remembered receiving the verification call while I was in Kochi. No passes meant no entry. No exceptions.
We went back to the room and searched again. Slowly. Methodically. With rising anxiety.
Then, for no clear reason, a thought surfaced: my notebook sleeve.
I checked — and there they were. Safely kept. Exactly where I must have placed them with care, and then forgotten. The panic evaporated in an instant. Sometimes memory arrives just in time.
At 4:00 AM, we finally left the hotel. The bus dropped us at Hauz Khas Metro Station. With roads sealed, the metro was the only way forward. We got down at Vigyan Bhavan, and from there, it was about a kilometre on foot — though it hardly felt like walking alone. A steady stream of people was already moving in the same direction, drawn by the same purpose.
Our passes specified the gallery location, and we realised we were seated close to where the Chief Guest would be. Security was intense — frisking at three separate points, passes checked against ID cards, and strict rules: nothing except a mobile phone allowed. Layer by layer, checkpoint by checkpoint, we cleared them all.
By the time we reached the gallery gate, it was 5:30 AM. We got first-row seats. And we knew instantly — the view was going to be special.
There was a long wait before the parade began. In the quiet gaps, some regiments carried out last-minute rehearsals, offering fleeting previews of the precision to come.
Around 10:00 AM, the first cavalcade passed us — the Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, heading towards Vijay Chowk to pay homage to the martyrs. Soon after, the President of India, along with the Chief Guest, passed by in an open carriage, acknowledging the crowd that had gathered long before sunrise.
Then the parade began.
What followed was a powerful spectacle — the armed forces showcasing their latest systems, impeccably coordinated march-pasts, military bands, tableaux from ministries and state governments, the unmistakable roar of special forces motorcycles, and aerial formations slicing through the sky. The Kerala pavilion was special for us with Kochi Metro boat as the centerpiece and focus on electric boats. One vertical fighter manoeuvre drew an audible gasp from the crowd — a moment of pure awe.
As the celebrations drew to a close, the national anthem filled the air. It was followed by spontaneous, heartfelt chants of Bharat Mata Ki Jai and Vande Mataram. The President and Chief Guest passed by once more, greeted with thunderous applause.
And then — a final, human moment.
The Prime Minister returned, stepped out of his vehicle, and waved to the crowd. The response was instant and electric. It felt like a fitting end to a morning charged with emotion and pride.
As we walked back towards the metro station, the crowds swelled into a frenzy near the entrance. Yet somehow, smoothly and safely, we made our way in and boarded the train back.
Video credit: Monil Jayeshkumar Khatri, Cofounder Milo Drive
Looking back, it was an unforgettable experience. I thank Ministry of MSME and SRI team for inviting us.
Watching the Republic Day parade on television is one thing. Seeing it live — feeling the cold morning air, the discipline, the scale, the emotion — is something else entirely.
If you ever get the chance, don’t miss it.
Sandith Thandasherry 