By Aditi Sindwani
The normalcy seems to be far lost into oblivion,
With hopes vanishing in these deserted lands,
Occupied by nothing but yellow barricades,
of the men in uniforms.
The containment is so suffocating,
That the heart wanders off to days when
people used to live on the streets.
Those shabby-looking, unwanted people,
living on the outskirts of this concrete jungle,
are more likeable now,
That the eyes search every now and then,
For their heavenly paradise.
The prying eyes of those uniformed men
with sticks and guns,
Looking piercingly at every wandering soul
with their covered mouths,
Fill the heart with fear,
Making them the scariest creatures
of planet Earth.
They are our defenders,
Yet they don't please the eyes.
We don't hate them,
Since they are the fighters out there.
But, we need the days without them.
We need the days of souls,
Lost or found,
Good or bad,
Roaming those streets again,
Filling it with new stories,
and music to play.
Even nature's melody
lacks its lustre some days,
missing a piece of itself every day.
They say she is rejoicing,
But how could a Mother rejoice,
When one of her creations is in misery?
How can we consider it to be healed,
When a mass wipeout is happening all around?
There is death every day,
with dogs howling at night
being a new usual.
The fear in the heart
has become a daily ritual,
and the room,
A Pilgrimage.
I do not say I dislike this solitude,
but the heart still misses its freedom.
It wants to roam freely,
and discover the undiscovered again,
not just the inner self,
but the outer world as well.
Not sure when it is going to end,
And when that invisible light of red
will turn to a permanent green light of merry?
I do not know when again there will be
days of bickering and laughter,
When those dead streets,
Will be alive with the playful steps of children,
Dancing to the melody of the newfound freedom?