Thursday, August 15, 2013

Little Pieces of an Indian

"Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake."
These words of Tagore, still manage to send a shiver down the back of my neck, for it reminds me of one of the most imporatnt words in my life.

Freedom. 

Freedom of what I choose think and of what I choose to become.The freedom to be the kind of person I'd want people to remember me by. The little pieces of an Indian I'd like them to find, when they choose to break me open.

The orthodox Indian.
The educated Indian.
The old-school Indian.
The 'Chaar log kya kahenge' Indian.
The 'I hate politics so much that I never bothered to find out why I hate it' Indian.
The greedy Indian.
The needy Indian.
The free thinking Indian.
The 'Khaap panchayat ke neeyamo ke anusaar' Indian.
The 'Sab chalta hai' Indian.
The cricket-crazy Indian.
The panipuri loving Indian.
The movie buff Indian.
The traveler Indian.
The religious Indian.
The hypocrite Indian.
The scholar Indian.
The 'Mere baap ka kya jaata hai' Indian.
The non-believer Indian.
The criticizing Indian.
The 'Ladka-Ladki kabhi dost nahi ho sakte' Indian.
The corrupt Indian.
The 'deshbhakti geet on ringtone, yet a pornographer' Indian.
The struggling Indian.
The rapist Indian.
The fighter Indian.
The 'chai-waale uncle' Indian.
The foodie Indian.
The 'Kal kar lenge' Indian.
The happy-go-lucky Indian.
The 'Aur thoda discount milega' Indian.
The 'Rickshaw-waale bhaiya' Indian.
The activist Indian.
The homeless Indian.
The leftist, rightist, communist, socialist, and 'God-knows-what-type'-ist Indian.
The filthy rich Indian.
The tired Indian.
The 'I still feel strongly about the freedom fighters' Indian.
The young Indian.
The old, dying Indian.

We could be any, many, or 'none of the above' Indian. But what binds us together is the thread of history and belonging. We are united and divided, subsequently by the same social fiber of freedom and independence.

And ironical it may seem but freedom comes with helplessness. The helplessness that comes with having the freedom and right to but not being able to. While in the 67th year of independence, someone like me is writing about what she thinks of freedom, there are so many unlike me who still struggle to have two square meals a day. I sometimes wonder, what good is all this after all? All this writing things and putting up pictures on social networking sites about independence and freedom? And after quite sometime, I can reason out some feeble bits of it here and there. I realize, it is important. It's important for people like me and you to talk, read and write about the things we feel about. It's important that the ideas of freedom in my mind can reach out to yours. It stokes them and keeps them from dying. The notions and beliefs of freedom and joy that I have build up over years of education, good upbringing, good books, and good music are my own little treasure trove. For me, the right to vote, the right to information is a big big deal. Things have changed for the better. At least now there are more like me. There are more people who do give a damn. Things are changing. For as long as there is one person who keeps the fire alive, it is worth the call. We are worth all what happened 67 years ago. We have a Google doodle to our name this independence day, for Christ's sake! That's quite something!

While we might not be a good picture of a country that hits the 67th year free from the British rule, I still say we are doing it right. 

We are a diverse nation. We Indians can be a little of this and a lot of that. But we are trying to keep things going.And my freedom is worth every bit of everything. Always had been, and always will be.

Happy Independence Day, all. Jai Hind!


Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Not Being Okay

I sit down at the study. Paper on the table and pen in hand.A wall staring at my face.I wait for a while and try to write something.Nothing comes for a while, and then suddenly...these words that I had scribbled months back, creep back from some eerie corner of my mind.

"Lost in time, lost in space.Losing my mind in different ways".

And then like a sudden bout, my mind is covered in a haze of emotions fighting and wanting an out.All I can do is pen down a tiny speck of what seems to be going on up there.

When you let go someone, it's not exactly like your world ceases to exist. Things are the same after a few days. The sunsets are still beautiful. It still is fun to hang out with friends and to bunk a class. You still will like music. You'll still want to look good. You still will enjoy the wind on your face. You'd still feel about Harry Potter the same way you used to. Good food will still entice you like before. The petrichor will be as good as ever. The sunny winter mornings will still make your heart skip a beat. You'll still feel happy over your achievements, and when you put a smile on someone's face, there still will be the warmth you feel.
However, you'll feel differently when you are quiet. Different. Not sad. You'll feel things you have never felt before. Like that irksome knot in your throat while you suddenly remember something, or that time when that song reminds you of them, and you realize that you have grown over the phase where you'd change the song. These days, you'd rather listen to it and let it pass. You'd feel a strange kind of tranquility and peace you'd seem to have made with yourself.
It'll come back at times. That restlessness. You will tend to find yourself thinking about the 'What Ifs'. There wouldn't be much you could do or feel about those things. One moment you'll be fine and the next moment you'll want to lose your mind. But that's how it goes, not being okay and yet, being okay.