THE WINGS OF FREEDOM

All educated chics English speaking, independent , who are earning, living on their own taking everyday decisions ,fighting all the odds of a unbending society are not really independent in real sense, this thought stuck me while talking to the girls in my hostel ,these girls with all the above qualities were really not independent. The first question that my mind and heart raised while chatting to them was, are they really free did they ever felt the FREEDOM and INDEPENDENCE of being free. Just by earning, or by being independent and wearing and dressing up in a modern sense gives you the feeling of being free, modern and independent? and my mind said no, I felt suffocated while talking , my heart just felt bad for them and for all those girls who are a part of this so called Indian society because I a saw a fear in their mind ,their minds were not truly free ,till date they haven’t lived for themselves, even when they grew as adults there decisions were not their own ,they were proscribed by their families and they are still till date. The, family inculcated the fear of society, what people will going to say! then they were told to adjust, adjusting is good but they were told to fiddle with the good and for the bad as well, It really surprises me when the girls especially in India employ this word ADJUSTMENT and saying that they have been given this sovereignty or freedom from their family or the man in their life or the one who will be the man of there life has given them adequate freedom to carry out whatsoever they want to .The thought of ‘ Giving the Freedom’ really gives a shiver to my spine. What I remember from my childhood days is, we were taught in school that freedom is everybody’s right it is not being given by someone and no one has right to give it, it is ones right. I wish for every girl in India that they really get to taste what freedom is and could feel it and live it in the real sense and the society should also actually recognize the real meaning of freedom and independence so that it could it be spread in a genuine way to the generations… …….

I am ending this thought of mine with a poem written by Robert Creeley

I have come far enough
from where I was not before
to have seen the things
looking in at me from through the open door

and have walked tonight
by myself
to see the moonlight
and see it as trees

and shapes more fearful
because I feared
what I did not know
but have wanted to know.

My facd is my own, I thought.
But you have seen it
turn into a thousand years.
I watched you cry.

I could not touch you.
I wanted very much to
touch you
but could not.

If it is dark
when this is given to you,
have care for its content
when the moon shines.

My face is my own.
My hands are my own.
My mouth is my own
but I am not.

Moon, moon,
whn you leave me alone
all the darkness is
an utter blackness,

a pit of fear,
a stench,
hands unreasonable
never to touch.

But I love you.
Do you love me.
What to say
when you see me.