enshackled freedom

The first rays of sunlight sneaked in through the small window in his room. They danced on his wrinkled face,weaving their way through the week-old stubble, illuminating the dark circles under his eyes,urging him to open his eyes and greet the new day.But darkness held his eyes tightly from the back - like an old friend who plays the 'guess who?' game.The dejected rays withdrew from the muffled room and carried their dance to more a receptive audience - the flower beds outside the building and the gardener in his soiled dhoti with a half-smoked beedi put away safely over his ear.

Footsteps.A face at the door.He opened his eyes and peered in the darkness.
"The warden wishes to see you", the loathing in the voice echoed across the dank room.He got to his feet.The familiar tapping of leather shoes on the cement floor.
"Aah...Gopal..I guess I woke you up a bit too early.But then..I have wonderul news for you.You are going on a vacation", the voice was devoid of any emotion.
Confusion.A melange of apprehension and guarded triumph.
"You see..the committee is happy with your behaviour.So we have decided to let you out on parole for a week.Mind you, not a luxury all guys here on 'lifer's are given"
Retreating steps into the darkness.

Joy.elation.ecstasy....the smell of fresh clothes on a grimy body. The feel of a three-decade old ring on a callused finger.The shoe bite of a worn-out shoe. The first unsure step outside the edifice that housed the 'scum-of-the-earth' as the city tagged them.Murderers,rapists,petty thieves,tricksters, politicians tainted by scams - all painted in the black-white stripes of uniformity under law.

The sunlight was too bright.Eyes shut themselves into tiny slits in protest.And yet they were wide open with excitement.with apprehension.with fear.The city looked hostile and yet strangely familiar.He took but one step and was lost.He could might as well have been a newborn child opening his eyes to find blobs of brown,white and black all around him that contorted into funny shapes, orifices that opened to reveal tiny structures in shades of white,off-white and yellow......and noises that peaked at dangerously high pitches when he smiled. The city was a potpourri of noises - the vehicles, the masjid around the corner, the soft bells of the church, the election rally.....a symphony in itself. He took a deep breath. Ten years is a long time.

The house was still there.The people were there too.The ones who had been spared the axe of time.The tears were there too.Ten years of suffering had not dried them.The flowery faces had wilted into wrinkles.The toothless grins had grown into pan and cigaratte stained grins -root canals et al.The radio had relinquished its position to a 15" black and white TV.The grumbling granny's corner had given way to a framed photo with a garland with white plastic flowers around it.

The rice was soft.And yet it brought a lump in the throat.The dal was not pungent and yet a tear trickled down the eye with the first morsel.The soft mattress whispered sweet nothings to the calluses on his back deep into the night.
And the next morning the rays returned with their fine dance,cajoling him into opening his eyes.This time he obliged.

And as the sages said,time and tide wait for no man.The stopped clock with it 'rigor-mortis'-ed pendulum could not even wring its hands in despair.Tears flowed again...prayers were said...the house was hungrily devoured in a long last look and eyes were shut. And then there was darkness again.

The journey back was like a slow motion sequence in a bollywood flick.The sights that had enthralled him over the last one week,played over and over again infront of his eyes.The little joys of life that had finally crept out of their hiding places after a ten-year long game of hide-and-seek returned back to their elusive positions.
The cacophony of the city, which a week's freedom had painfully separated into a thousand different sweet sounds, had returned again - indecipherable,intimidating.

The edifice loomed over the horizon.As the metal gate clanged shut-he didn't look back.It was quick..the transition.The ring was back in its place - a tattered bag with a tag - no.1298. The worn out shoes were dumped on a mountain of anonymous chappals,sandals,shoes and a few lucky nikes and leecoopers.

The familiar tapping of leather shoes.."So Gopal...had a great time ??? Is there anything else you would wish to do before you return to your cell???"
"yes...I have to make a request...do not free me again.do not grant me enshackled freedom...." and he surrended himself to the black-white stripes yet again.

The door shut on his face.And there was darkness once more.