Freedom et all

If you are familiar with the ‘Lettrs’, then let me tell you that the following note made a featured writer this week – April 14th to 20th, based on freedom. Hope you like my take on this.

April 11, 2015
Hyderabad, India

Dear Desert Dancer,

Today freedom is a truce between what we want to do and what we can do – more like a choice.

I see that young boy, who hasn’t moved past the trauma of child labour, borrows my bike for ten minutes and gulps dusty hot air in city traffic of Hyderabad, like it means the world to him and I read freedom, in the twinkling of his eyes. Freedom knows no language except that extra amount of vitality to push the door open – oh yes, the doors always open from the inside.

I see that single, woman, fatigued – who stands on her balcony with a glass of wine and wishes she wasn’t alone. She looks at the sparrow on her windowsill with the fluttering curtain and writes poetry into thin air as if words will give her wings to escape from the world. I look at her pensive eyes and I read freedom.

I walk in the crowd and so many intangible thoughts pass through me like that smell of perspiration – so many needs; everyone I see is more trapped in their own world, than they would like to believe. In those words hidden, desires suppressed behind the necessities – I read freedom in the wait for time when those dreams will come true, if not, to be able to see those dreams, at least.

I lie down on the unnamed rocks and look at the clouds flowing above – even they aren’t free, they need the shoulder from a strong wind to move on. My wings may have been clipped, my legs may be crippled – yet the mind flies on, it knows no border. I am as free as I want to be.



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