Bhadra Premchand

Who am I
How was I born
The person who I am today ,
Is it really me ?
Or is it the product of some incidents
that had taken place over the years of life
Am I living as me or
As someone else wanted
Who decides the genre of our book
Who gives title to the chapters we write
Who choose the words we utter
Is it really all us ?
Or is someone telling us
What to do
What to wear
How to be
How to live
And at last, how to breath?
Isn’t it frustrating
living someone else’s lives
Someone else’s dreams
Someone else’s lies,
thoughts and expectations?
Why do we do that?
For once break way
From the chains that restrains us
And see from our own eyes
Rather than the stranger’s
Feel from our own heart
Rather than the heart of another.
And let us live our lives
Like the wind that blows
To every corners of life…..

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