By Shailendra Yadav
Thinking about life and the lost freedom,
sitting in an enclosure of walls,
in a web of mental scrolls.
Life does make sense very seldom,
and freedom remains the ultimate phantom.
There were people who declared
that life is a wingless bird,
lost themselves
for the birth of the treatise absurd.
The man who wakes up every day
with the labyrinth of chains,
driven by recurring hunger
and endless pains—
but all this
for that one glory day
when he will find
a state of deep slumber
and an assurance
that his life hasn’t gone in vain—
that glory day
when he will be invited
to the utopian feast
that will quench all hunger.
Excited and joyous,
he picks up the mirror
to get ready for the feast.
In a state of utter shock,
he drops the mirror and cries—
"Who is this beast?"