I feel, if I criticize my country, it's not because I don't like

Hear, O children of the earth, the wise words of Soni Razdan: “I feel, if I criticize my country, it's not because I don't like my country. I love my country. That is my patriotism. I want to make it a better place for my children, for everyone. And if we don't look at what's in front of us, and we allow things to get out of hand because of other vested interests, then as citizens are not doing a good job.” These words are not soft, but firm; not spoken in bitterness, but in love. They remind us that patriotism is not blind praise, but courageous honesty—the willingness to confront flaws in order to heal them.

The origin of this saying is rooted in Razdan’s voice as an artist, mother, and citizen who has witnessed her country’s struggles and triumphs. In her words, we hear the eternal truth: to criticize is not to betray, but to strengthen. A parent who corrects a child does not cease to love; rather, that correction is born from love. In the same way, when citizens speak against corruption, injustice, or negligence, they are not tearing their nation down—they are building it upon stronger foundations.

Consider the life of Abraham Lincoln. During the darkest days of the American Civil War, he was reviled by many, criticized even by those within his own government. Yet his vision of a better nation, free of slavery and division, was fueled by his deep love of country. His criticisms of America’s failures did not make him unpatriotic; they made him its truest servant. By daring to confront the sickness of the land, he preserved its soul for future generations. Razdan’s words carry this same spirit: criticism is an act of devotion, not betrayal.

So too in the history of India, Mahatma Gandhi stood as one who loved his country deeply. His patriotism was fierce and sacrificial, but it was not unthinking loyalty. He criticized violence, oppression, and injustice even when they came from within his own people. He dared to hold his nation accountable, for he knew that only truth could set it free. Gandhi’s life is the living echo of Razdan’s teaching: love demands courage, and courage often speaks uncomfortable truths.

The meaning of this teaching is profound. To love one’s country is not to cover its wounds with silk, nor to praise it while it stumbles deeper into folly. True patriotism removes the mask, exposing what must be seen, so that healing may begin. A citizen who is silent in the face of injustice is not faithful, but negligent. As Razdan declares, when we allow “vested interests” to shape our land without question, we fail in our sacred duty as guardians of the future.

The lesson for us is clear: embrace a patriotism that is active, not passive; courageous, not complacent. Do not be afraid to speak against corruption, to question policies, to demand justice for the voiceless. For silence is complicity, and complicity is betrayal. Love of country must be fierce enough to protect it from harm—even harm inflicted by its own leaders, its own institutions, or its own people.

Practical counsel follows. Be vigilant citizens. Educate yourself on the truth of your land’s condition. Do not let propaganda or empty praise lull you into slumber. Speak with courage when you see wrong. Participate in the life of your community, not as a passive observer, but as one who carries responsibility for its future. Teach your children that patriotism is not blind worship, but devoted service.

So let the words of Soni Razdan echo in your heart: “If I criticize my country, it's not because I don't like my country. I love my country. That is my patriotism.” Take them as both shield and sword: a shield against accusations of disloyalty, and a sword to cut through the falsehood that silence is virtue. For in truth, the greatest love of country is the courage to make it better—for ourselves, for our children, and for all who shall come after.