Thursday, January 28, 2010

Bon'er Pakhi ... The Freebird

“Not that anything of moment happened that morning. It was simply a non momentous day in a momentous time. A day to sit and wait for the seconds, hours and minutes to tick.” [1]. Nothing happened either that morning or the night prior, or even during the week that ensued.

The micro and the macro analysis are ever so different be that of what it is. Yes, the broader picture of me remaining as morbid as I usually am, never changed. Something sublime just stirred deep within somewhere at too micro a plane but somehow managing forever to remain innocuous to one and all.. to everyone, somehow defying the much hyped – Butterfly Effect!!

Someone just got liberated! Nahh! That didn’t sound huge. But for heaven’s sake I am screaming out loud that someone just got LIBERATED! Liberation at the level of an individual, a liberation from the estrangement that we choose to perpetuate with each breath of ours, demolishing the alienation that causes me to hold on to my ego and not reach out even when I know I should, breaking free from all that pushes an individual to choose oblivion. Someone just got liberated!

A friend just died… not literally may be… but definitely he died. Death to me today represents a barrier between me and my realizations. And perhaps also a barrier between the ‘ought’ and the ‘is’! Death physically represents a distance, a distance that is an incentive itself – ballyhooing all that is lost and all the ‘to be achieved’ and ‘to be realized’ organized on the other side. He just crossed that line; I am left behind. That he has reached the other side is death, a death in the civil society that I live in. He left his alienation behind. He made even the ennui of time seem momentous!

Liberty no longer remains as a definable word to me. It no longer implies to me the freedom from external control – it rather is now, the independence from my own confinements created by the alienation that pervades my existence; it is the shearing of that very same estrangement that demarcates the line between me and death, between me and my friend. Goodbye Tanay!



[1] Ruchira Sen, A Winter Morning

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