Friday, 15 August 2008

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.
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.
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?)

1 comment:

  1. The conscience is jogged here... pertinent and telling!




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