Ah! Freedom!

History repeats itself

Doesn't it, always?

Or does it indeed?

The age old charka remains rusted

In the cob web adorned room

Where the aura of a nebulous past hangs in.

Dust sprinkled patterns of today

All over.

My fingers trace the outline of yesterdays,

Through shut eyes and my open soul.

Shaken,

I force myself out on a walk.

Across the green pastures

I smell the trace of blood, shed

Once upon a time.

As I get into the bus, my legs tremble-

The humiliation of being chucked out

In the name of my skin brown-

A poke on my shoulder, and I reawaken

To today.

A ticket punched,

I stare away out of the window.

Getting off, I walk in-

The graveyard fragrance fills my senses

And I find the earth damp

With tears fresh.

My mind flew back to a time,

When the earth was fed

With tokens of her own flesh.

Today,

She seems just as melancholic,

My eyes are damp, I realize

And I walk back home, a quick pace.

The sky laden with clouds dark,

Threatened to rain.

I ran, ignoring the limbless

Crawling over for safety.

The potholes I crossed over,

Where the many trip and fall

Never caught my attention.

Atlast, I reached home

Sweaty and tired-

Water, I yelled for.

The ten year old errand boy came over

Offering me a glass.

Thirst quenched,

I tossed the glass to him

With no other word.

Independence, does he not deserve?

As the thoughts of today filled me up,

I lived the tyranny of yesterdays

In me,

And my plaqued mind shut itself close,

Slipping away into forced sleep.

Ah! My Freedom!

(Hard earned?)