Free!

The extreme turmoil within me commands complete destruction; but sanity beckons for course correction. The dilemma is unique for I feel pain and power at the same time. The stoic facade breaks up for rapturous flow of emotions; emotions that have been kept captivated for so long. Subdued and suppressed, it has lost its voice, somehow.  Too long have we accepted the fate decreed upon us. Unchallenged, the wrong has replaced the right. It’s time we seek out for a change. 

But wait, change is a big thing! What change are we talking about? Change does not come without a price? What price do we need to pay?

For days together when the belt falls relentlessly on my back and the dark walls soak in the aromatic concoction of fear and sweat, I revel in euphoria. Drop by drop, blood is soaked into the ground, just like a parched throat savors the taste of water.  Nothing can be as sweet as the sound of the trickling stream of blood. Am I losing it? I wonder. But haven’t I lost everything? Is there anything that belongs to me?

In the darkness of the dungeon, I hear voices around me. They laugh and whisper, just like my childhood friends, in that village under the old Mango tree. Mohan, yes Mohan was the naughty one, always punished by the headmaster. Mohan, I call out. Mohan! The voices still laugh. I see the paddy fields, the gleaming golden crops, Baba ploughing the land. But that bullet, why is it lodged onto Baba’s chest? He is bleeding, yet smiling! The sound of the hooves was clear and the gunshot, distinct. The men carrying the Queen’s emblem retreated. The dusk came early, but time did not move.

They say a scarred mind is doomed forever. Perhaps I was doomed long ago, but failed to fathom it. Crippled by my delirious state, I stumble on the floor. Cold and damp, it felt like my soul!

Soul, what is it? Is it the inner voice, the sub-conscious or just your alter-ego? Interestingly, today for the first time I could feel my soul. The last 10 days within these four walls have been tumultuous. While my hands and feet remained chained, my mind roamed free. Across my village, to the University campus, the bastion of the British army, I went past everything that touched me. Oh what joy it was to hear him cry out ‘Vande Mataram’ in pain! It sounded perfect, on his heavily accentuated voice!

What demonic power rules the hand that holds a gun! The finesse, with which I lodged the bullet into the rotting brain of that soldier, was simply artistic. Ecstasy pumped through my blood and filled me with mirth.  The sound of my laughter filled the air. Yes, revenge! Finally I have avenged that day in the paddy field. It was sweet.

10 days back my mind won freedom and tomorrow, at dawn, my soul would be freed!