FREEDOM
I was sitting on an
easy chair in my veranda, staring at the sky overcast with dark clouds, a
clear signal that a heavy downpour is imminent. The cool breeze carried with
it, the sweet chirping of birds heralding the rain, the nature in a jovial mood
as the rain would hopefully bring some respite in the sweltering heat of the
summer. Flocks of birds were flying across the dark sky, their wings spread out
in freedom and waiting for the rain drops to replenish their soul and spirit.
Similar chirping from my pet parrot Prada drew my attention towards its cage.
It was staring at the sky fluttering its wings vigorously. I pressed my ears
closer and felt a stark difference between the chirping of the free souls in
the sky and those of Prada. While the former melodiously spoke of the joys of
liberty, the latter was the helpless voice of a chained slave with an undying
hope of living and flying freely one day. Its vain attempt to break the cage
seemed to articulate the essence, “Browbeaten
yet not broken.” That seemingly simple sight of Prada initiated thousands of
thoughts in my mind. There the flamingos with their blood red wings were describing
circles in the sky and seemed to be championing the cause of freedom. Rain soon
started pelting down hard but this was the first time that I felt the raindrops
speaking to me. It was like the inconsolable tears of nature lamenting the life
of those held in captivity. The chirping of the birds, sound of the rain
pelting down, the thunder and the distant bawls of toddlers all seemed to be clamouring and pressing for the independence of those held in bondage. The
order of releasing Prada seemed to be floating in the air and the rain, for the
first time in my life spent so far, seemed so dictatorial to me. I closed my
eyes and started cogitating on perhaps the most coveted part of life~ Freedom.
My mind ticked back to the
period of Russian and Italian revolution when the citizens rose in sedition to
overthrow the regime of tyrant hegemonic rulers. Lives were lost, blood was
shed profusely but freedom was achieved. This in turn revived the memories of
the brave sons and daughters of our motherland who wore the noose with a smile
on their lips with a hope that their deaths would be an impetus to the fellow
countrymen to go on waging fight against the oppressive foreign government.
Their dream did become successful as widespread protests and uprising forced
the British government to withdraw their colonial rule in India. Initially the
protest for freedom was feeble but as time elapsed and the oppressive measures
of the government went on escalating, the whole nation developed a sense of
oneness and started asserting their right to freedom. The difference between life
in non-confinement and in confinement is quite evident when we see a tiger
hunting freely in the wild, symbolizing power and magnificence, a complete
contrast to a morose and gloomy tiger held in captivity in the zoo.
Can one be held captive
in servitude for a long time? The desperation
to attain freedom soon dominates over the strength of fetter that binds one to
the pillar. The heart-wrenching lines of the poem, “The Slave’s Dream” by H.W.
Longfellow iterated in my mind. As the poem ended with freedom reaching the
slave through his death, I felt tear oozing out of my closed eyes and trickling down my cheek. Thus, freedom can’t be stopped. Either we break the chain
and free ourselves or death comes to our rescue and emancipates our tethered
soul. The cries of my brother reached my ears as my mother refused to let him
go out and play in the rain. Thus even a child protests when liberty is curbed.
My contempt for those wicked men gained new heights for whom women feel their
liberty restricted lest they become victims of these lurking beasts. Only one
question was weighing on my mind —Why should an innocent be put behind
bars?
I opened my eyes.
Several minutes have passed and those precious minutes left me enlightened and
the realization dawned on me that life and liberty are one and same. The rain
stopped and once again the sky regained its blue colour. I looked at Prada and
experienced a strange, inexplicable agony in my heart. It was silent with eyes
closed as if it had surrendered to its fate, the fate I had written by locking
it in a cage. I took a deep breath and opened the lock of the cage and said, “Freedom
granted Prada.” It was silent for a moment, in utter disbelief, too good to be true it must have seemed. Then it flapped its wings, gave a strange chirping sound
and out it flew into liberty. I kept my eyes fixed on Prada as it disappeared
to the dominant heights of the deep blue sky, chirping and singing. “Is
Prada chirping words of gratitude?”, I asked myself. I listened carefully and realized what
it said~ “You haven’t shown me mercy. You have just given me the right that I
always deserved.”
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