THE UTOPIA OF FREEDOM

Candles Online

During my childhood days, Independence day always meant patriotic songs, pompous processions, humdrum speeches and delectable jalebis, all-in-all an eventful holiday to me. It was when I grew up a little that I started understanding the reason behind all these festivities. Independence day is a celebration of freedom, a reiteration of our rights and duties towards our great nation, I was told. As for rights and duties, they are clearly adumbrated in our constitution, it was the term ‘freedom’ which puzzled me quite a bit. What is freedom, I asked myself. Does this only mean that we can elect our own government who get to rule us, and not some foreign tyrants. Is it only symbolic or has an aspect to it which affects our day-to-day life? To which extent have we achieved freedom and how far do we have to further go?

Freedom is when we have the…

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Reminder

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The heart has let loose,

But the mind holds on to the noose.

In the labyrinthine streets of

no strings attached

The nemeses are at war.

 
 
Shut are the thoughts,

confined the senses.

But in my clandestine reveries,

Fluoresces evanescent hope of serendipity.

   

When the obsession dampens to

Little pricks of recollections

And spirit immerses again, in tender bonhomie

At such times, dear Heart

Still remember what caused the mess.

  
 
Immerse -The Daily Post prompt

Nyctophilia

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The larks and flamingos are revered at light,

But when the nights dawn and nocturnals rise

When clouds drape the moon in a starless sky

We awake from slumber, for we are

the sworn sovereigns of the night.

  

The specks of iridescence are overlapped by grey ashes

When in forest, burning bright are the fearful symmetries*.

In those hours, over the kingdom of nyctophiles,

with chirps of crickets and howling of wolves

the flaps of our wings lay in harmony.

  

Feeding on the shadows, morsel by morsel

And anchored to the hidden moonbeams

we soar to the cosmic hurricane.

Who said darkness is fearful, for us it’s synonymous to life.

 
  

(*From ‘The Tyger’ by William Blake)

Image courtesy: Pinterest

 

Dormiveglia

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An imbrication of stares and blinks,

my nights have become a reverberation

of your whispers’ lilt.

As I swing back and forth

past my gossamer cloudland,

I envisage how it’d be like to float with

you through the hourglass of sand.

 

The demesne which I used to call mine

has now become your territory.

Trespass all you want, but shush,

you tread on my sleep.