Friday, August 12, 2011

my world

The long lost freedom is not yet found.

It is in some old forlorn forgotten well, deep under the waters, whose walls have grown moss - lust, wet, green, innocent moss - carpeting the inner walls.

It might never be restored, retrieved - the freedom.

When i think of freedom, i think of a hilly, a mountainous place - a hill station perhaps - with its crisp fresh air, its friendly, innocent, simple people with no complications of emotions, with no ego - no expectations, no demands. A gay happy face when the daily demands of basic needs are fulfilled.

I think of a school on this hill, a school and its kids. I would love to spend time with them - teach them something perhaps - spend a lot of time with them - play table tennis with them maybe - run with them - chat with them - spend a lot of time with them - show them various books - solve their innocent emotional issues - talk with them - spend a lot of time with them.

When i think of freedom, i think of making friends in the lonely place - knowing people doing their own stuff - making tea, tending to their gardens, dusting their windows, scrubbing off a stubborn stain.

When i think of freedom, i think of a snack on this hill somewhere - a sandwich probably - and a book - under a warm lovely sun, lying on the grass - reading the book until my lids get heavy and i fall in a lazy cozy warm slumber. I wake up to the crisp fresh breeze - the flowers around - red, blue and yellow, dangling and dancing with the breeze.

When I think of freedom, i think of keeping the body and the mind fresh, healthy and alert.

When i think of freedom, i think of writing, on a table, or on the grass, or at a tea shop, or in the school - i think of writing.

When i think of freedom, i cannot think of you. When i think of freedom, you are a wishful character - the yearning in my life. You are what makes me complete. You fulfill me and complete the purpose of why i live. With you i feel free.

But you don't come alone. And i can't take you with all your belongings to my space of freedom because they clatter a lot, clutter a lot, make noise - a lot of noise. They are orthodox, conservative, complicated and stagnant. And for them, i have no space in my world.

But i have stopped taking you there anymore.

I keep you here, with me - where you are - lest they hear us and follow us to my world.

But i still wish, i still yearn for you to be there with me - under the sun, lying on the grass........

I miss you deeply, where I wish you to be.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

lovely lines... , I keep you here, with me lest they hear us and follow us to my world. But i still wish, i still yearn for you to be there with me- under the sun, lying on the grass.... I miss you deeply, where I wish you to be.

Melancholic... or is it Milancholic :)