Freedom of the Mind!

“The most important kind of freedom is to be what you are!” – Jim Morrison

It is strange how on the eve of a national holiday always I find the strength to pour my heart out or maybe that is just my way of screaming out my independence or the need for it or maybe I am just trying to take some solace in a creative activity. Nicker-nackers, as I call them or maybe as generally called a recollection for hope and at times a confidence boost for the self loathing souls. The human heart is a funny thing; sometimes too silly or too obstinate and full of pride and yes it has a soft weak side too and the most dangerous it gets when it falls in love. What not it does or makes its owner do just to get a little attention from the object of its affection! The real misery starts when it gets a dire ill fated rejection from the very object it cares about. The ruthless hatred that is borne at such fate boils the heart out and might even put the devil to shame. And what not to soothe an ailing little heart and free it of its miseries; everything obviously justified easing the little wretched heart which has fallen into its self dug graves. I wondered often as to what emotions or actions flow through in the time period from when the heart is broken to the moment for the rise of the hatred; the border-line of the two mutually independent opposite feelings and what does happen if the hatred does not simmer down; is it ever possible to be free of such guilt and anger; never knowing the answer lies in self within and not wandering around. But of course such knowledge does not come from years of experience rather in a moment of truth, a glance back into the ghosts of the past. Impulsive and fragile as a young heart might be eagerly falls in love with the shining friendly smile often not knowing the consequences that might befall almost always against the good judgement of the noble brain. Falling in love perhaps is like floating on clouds, the weightlessness of everything and the ease with which two souls tango through the world around. But then fairytales are not for the present generation to live. Not everything falls in place when you behead the dragon, free the princess or kill the evil witch. Stupid and silly for a person to wear their heart on the sleeves when the world seems to be full of heartless mad kings and queens. And in this century, the evil generally lives through the eyes of the very object of your affection. The very soul you tried to seek your solace in is the one which is ever ready to bring your downfall and hiss and bite at you like the most poisonous rattle snake. Masquerade! And maybe when this realisation dawns on the heart it gets infuriated and then starts the period of hatred.

“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned”- William Congreve

A heart full of rage is so dark that it might even put the black diamonds to shame! So why not put up an appearance, a disguise to betray the peeking glaring eyes for there hardly is anything else to do. And thus enters the various boosting activities or maybe even called the self distracting actions. And on such times I create my own collage of creativities. So I made a list of things to do and topping the chart was food. Comfort food seemingly not only comforts the ailing heart but also refreshes the taste buds. I cooked and baked and ate till I was sure I looked like a floating balloon; why should the heart float alone-reason justified! Oh how I wish I had just noted down the recipes of the amazing dishes I made and of course the appreciation I got from my delighted mother who did find it quite strange for her daughter to have lost her way into the kitchen suddenly perhaps! But then imagine the disappointment when I measured my weight and found to have lost a few pounds instead of gaining! The heart was torn again; the food was supposed to make the body bulge and not skimp it so then cooking and even eating cut off the list. Next I shifted to paintings. Yes I was happy to be reunited with this old flame. Not much of a painter but I was satisfied. After a while even this wore off or maybe not, I still have my paint and brushes and colours but just been taking a break out of it; vacationing. I shifted focus to the next item on the to-do list and “oh my” this perhaps has the most calming down experience ever. I bought three pairs of heels and two pairs of flats, five tops, two dresses, two saris, two kurtas, a small makeover, one watch, a few other tiny daily accessories and two very ugly bags which thankfully I returned back and hopefully will get refunded. But then how much of the appearance or the act is just enough? I now have a restraining order to stay away from the kitchen or clean up the mess I make after the various though yummy but experimental dishes, I have a huge credit to repay for all the unplanned and also unwanted expenditure and for that I cannot shop for the next two months at the least and the colours well most of them dried off from the long vacation I took off it. Not knowing the limit is perhaps the most dangerous of all and maybe that puts us in another deep ditch of shits. Over excessive of every little thing that my petty heart craved for! And it was then that a realisation dawned upon. I did everything to make up for some lost solace in something or somebody else in return which was actually doing no good or benefit. A few shed tears also seemed a waste of preciousness. My parents raised me a princess; only daughter and pampered a lot. It isn’t like not faced with tough times; there were and very much of it but then I was raised as protected and all away from harms ways under the protection of their shield of love. And shedding a few tears for the silliness of the heart seemed on my part all wrong and unjustified to my parents and maybe that very realisation gave me a certain height of freedom. I realised it was never worth to pursue a thing which failed to put a smile on my parents’ princess and that exactly was the independence the heart needed. And strange as it might be the head hit the realisation exactly at midnight and reading aloud a certain excerpt.

“At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. It is fitting that at this solemn moment we take the pledge of dedication to the service of India and her people and to the still larger cause of humanity.” – Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru, first Prime Minister of a free independent India.

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