Dark is the Light

Tears of doubt fall like pearls into an infinite abyss,

An abyss I can't fathom, nor behold in my shaky hands.

A welter of dark emotions add shadow to the void,

A fleeting search for light runs my mind's errands.

The stars for so long I kept in my craving sight,

It's those I can't find in the emptiness of reality.

For ages who consoled me, brightened my teary eyes,

Have hidden beyond myself, their questioned morality.

Of fire and flame, I find an unfathomable thought,

Dance among the fumes, search for the wonderful smell

Of order and clear, and all things unimaginably far, yet dear,

Brought by the white heat of the scented, sweet hell.

The search for meaning goes on through many wanderings far,

Yet fire, it deceives, burns me in its tranquil heat,

And stars, who knows, one day might take the black

And leave me helpless, fettered in the chains of defeat.

The heavenly light, whose rays, they pass through my hands

Transparent with woeful regret, stained by the curse.

For darkness does prevail, yes darkness does prevail

When somber emotions in their shell, bind the entire Universe.

Independence Day, Truly.

Thousands of tirangas being unfurled at this moment add a tinge of saffron, green and white patriotism to the busy, blowing wind. The air is saturated with memories of the past, remembrances of our freedom fighters, and poetry of the lost souls.

At gatherings across the country, most of the addresses concern our freedom fighters, who gave their immortal blood for this country. A random marg in some far-off remote area is being named after Chandrasekhar Azad or Sarojini Naidu. Plans for a huge statue of Sardar Patel are in the making. History is flowing through our nerves with waves as strong as the Ganga.

India, a country where people revere their long-lost history more than they think of the future. Where past achievements which need to return to the country are transformed into pride for the Indians. Where the fading shadows of the past are obscuring the needs for the future.

Here we are, living in a country which boasts of rich royal history and orderly masterminds like Chanakya, and yet our Parliament can't gather its voices in unity. Where we wake up early to listen to the Prime Minister's speech in the morning speaking yet again of the Swachh Bharat Abhiyan, and still think of excuses to litter our roads. Where we speak of India's diversity and culture and yet disrespect those who can't speak English properly.

Where we attempt to gain sympathy for our unnoticed past and forget to improve the present into a majestic reincarnation of the future.

Let's ask ourselves first, what defines us as being Indian? Is it speaking poetry from the past in the morning assembly without feeling a tinge of wonder? Is it talking about freedom fighters, about whom we have been talking since 69 years? Is it boasting how Mahatma Gandhi is known around the world, yet not following his ideals?

The common Indians of today are constantly apprehensive about their future, about their families, about their health, freedom fighters are people they recall only one day each year. Do you ever talk about Bhagat Singh on 26 May? Or the 17th of November? Independence Day is seen as an incentive to show your 'hidden' love for your country.

For some of the more relatively well-off people like us, being Indian might be eating ice cream at India Gate, assimilating with people from different states despite our differences, talking passionately about topics like reservations and secularism, clearing taboos about India all over the world. In short, thinking about what we need for the future.

Independence Day isn't naming a road after a freedom fighter.
Independence Day isn't memorizing the birth dates of prominent leaders.
Independence Day isn't renaming the Agriculture Ministry to Farmers' Welfare Ministry.
Independence Day isn't recalling complex poetry which touches the heart of only those educated enough to understand it.
Independence Day isn't about speeches and assemblies.

Independence Day is defining our future.
Independence Day is thinking seriously, and doing.
Independence Day is introspecting, and finding what we need to do.
Independence Day is gaining independence from close-mindedness and taboos, and talking of subjects of national importance without hesitation, with good intentions.
Independence Day is everyone listening to everyone's views, not everyone listening to just the Prime Minister's views.
Independence Day is befriending our enemies, not defeating our enemies.
Independence Day is living in the present and looking to the future, not dwelling on the past.

Independence Day is true independence.

i already made my shoes

Hmm.

Right now the road seems grassy... muddy and grassy more like. Well, there I slip, and splash mud all over my crazy toes. And then I feel the sweet old grass under my feet. Oh, how it wipes all that mud away... Let's just hope this road feels my feet only where there is grass. See, there I slip, and then far out somewhere I mend it all. Nice opportunity, if you ask me. But oh, the mud, that's all I can see, splattered over the dewy grass. My crazy feet, they dirtied the sweet, wet grass.

Hope... I do hope that there's no sharp gravel all over the next path I take, far in the distance. Shoes would be good. Maybe I should knit socks out of the grass! Then the road coming next would be much the easier, won't it?

Hmm.

Well, all these roads and all. Why do they hurt my feet so much? Why are there sharp stones scattered all over there in the vicinity and sweet, scented grass growing on the road visible far behind in the distance?

Why do the paths ahead always have to be so grim and deceitful and hungry for blood and bone alike? Why does the path I'm standing on have it's share of cloudiness, too? The mud, it hurts. But the grass is tasty, that's for sure.

It's an excuse, folks. The mud is a damn excuse.
Failure's just hiding behind the curtain.

The sun has to set, they said.
The future always seems brighter than the present, they said.
But, the future, it's always grimmer, they said.
Well, guess what, I can see that road right in front of me. And guess what, no sooner would that be my present.

It will be bad, they said.
Obstacles everywhere, they said.
The grim ones said.

Obstacles, ha. Nature's obstacles, ha-ha. Now comes the revelation, the twisting turn. The future's morose no more, I rule it, I grabbed it in my dirty, black, muddy hands.

I already made my shoes.