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What does Independence mean to us? A national holiday? An excuse to wear 'Indian' clothes and see our National Flag being hoisted, as songs of patriotism echo through the air? For a moment, I admit, I think most of us feel an over whelming sense of pride as we sing our National Anthem in unison, louder than anything else. I agree, for a moment we feel at peace with ourselves and with the ones around us. We feel a sudden surge of belonging, we feel sorry for ignoring The Mother for so long, for not ever thinking of her and certainly never thanking her, and we are happy all that the patriotic Bollywood songs we have heard have brought us back to her.

We feel liberated, almost as if a gust of wind has come under our invisible wings and made us fly with the National Flag in the air, above the rest. There is a glow to everything and we see bright light at the far end of the tunnel.

But this is just a day, not even the entire day. The feeling does not remain, we do not let it remain. As we come down to earth, back to our all engulfing virtual lives, to harvest crops and feed our pets, all that remains of this day is a status update.

You used to be so beautiful. The stars would seem brighter and the days would seem sunnier when you were around. It seemed to me as though all the sorrows of my life would be in tandem with cosmic energy when you were with me. You made me feel special.

I however, have forgotten what you look like. Memories of your face walk in and out at will, from my mind as I try desperately to keep the image of you concrete. The distance between our physical beings, has quantified into an unbridgeable gap between our souls. When I close my eyes and think of you, I see the colour black, vivid and deep, but that is all.

You are now a faded yellow paper, words of which I can no longer read. You are now a mere shadow, without a face. I have forgotten you completely. All that is left now, is a vague recollection of the fact that years ago, to my awe-struck mind, you used to be so beautiful.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale life slowly.

Exhale life slowly.

Inhale life slowly and make it reach your brain.

Exhale life slowly and make sure it still stays in your brain.

I turn from the left to the right. But what I see doesn't change. A whirlpool of colours, so pretty in mosaic. So much for sight.

People speak in different tones and they say different words but everything merges into my favorite song in my head. So much for hearing stuff.

Hot seems cold and cold cannot be felt at all. So much for sense.

I smile and tears come out from my eyes. With stone cold blank eyes I see into the very depth of other people's souls through their eyes.

I'm standing alone in the pelting rain. No wait, I'm standing amidst a huge crowd in the pelting rain.

Life makes a lot of sense to me, yet I cannot figure out life one bit.

I'm falling into deep sleep, first clock wise and then anti clock wise. All I can see is blinding light instead of the cool solace of dark slumber.

I wake up and the world is normal again. Maybe the world was always normal, but finally I find myself normal again. In my bed, the light of the sun sits with me with a cup of morning tea and a little chit-chat.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Life is in my veins.

It's chilly and the cigarette in my hand gives out blueish smoke. When I look at the smoke billowing upward in sleepy spirals, my head suddenly begins to swim. For a second the crooked old tree in front of me that I had been staring at dissolves into a shape I cannot decipher. Vibrant colours mix with the faded yellow of the tree and suddenly I see a painting of Piccasso in front of me. Incredible what an empty mind an an empty stomach can do to you. Hallucinations they call them. For a second nothing makes sense.

I wake up again. The tree is back. So is the old lady. She is lying flat on the footpath with flies almost everywhere on her being. Gentle movements of her tummy confirm that she is infact alive. The few shreds of cloth that cover her looked like someone had puked on them. It's funny, at that precise moment I thought of Clara. She's the bitch that lives next door. A spaniel who gets clothes from puma. A dog. And she has an AC room all to herself.

It doesn't make sense to me anymore. Nothing really does. Should I laugh? Or should I just pretend to laugh? Why bother. Why smile. Why talk to everyone and think of things to talk about, when at the end of the day you have to be alone in an empty room with nothing but your troubles looming up in front of you larger than life?

He told me to look this way. And then that way. He clicked on and on and I sat, somewhat uncomfortably in a saree in front of him. My first photoshoot. He wants me to smile. I pretend and flash a pair of uneven teeth. Good picture, he is telling me.

Smile for the whole world to see. Atleast pretend to smile. You are my best friend now, and tomorrow I'm too busy to call you. I love you now, but tomorrow my friends are more important. Smile again. The old tree and the old woman on a dirty footpath. And Clara is richer than many of us human beings. He asks me to smile again. I do. afterall, humans have perfected that fake smile. Nice, he tells me. people can kill each other with bombs and guns but a diamond ring will make a woman smile.

The cigarette is over too and the smoke is long gone. Shit.

You asked me to take a walk with you the other day. And so when you tenderly touched my hand and decided to lead the way, I allowed myself to follow you. It was to be a surprise, you said and as you drew your cold, long fingers over my pulsating eyelids, I smiled. A plethora of stars burst out in front of me, when I closed my eyes and I made an unsuccessful attempt to count them as you led me on.
Hands off and with eyes that opened up with a jerk, I at first could not take in the surprise. We were in your mind. I looked around as we walked through the turns of your twisted mind. Voodoo dolls with innumerable pins stuck into them, hung from the walls. Melted wax, dead roses, locks of yellow hair and broken pencils everywhere. It was so bizarre and so dark that I began to feel uneasy. I had told you that I loved you. I had told you that I loved you for your craziness and that I could make patterns out of your insanity. But your mind made me want to run away. It scared me. The touch of your hand made me want to run fast and never look back at you ever again. You were too insane and too dark for me. I told you I loved you. I lied.
You looked at me and smiled. I looked at you and smiled back. I looked deep into your eyes and told you, without blinking even once that I loved you. Yet again, in a bizarre and crazy moment of fear, I lied to you.
I don’t really know if we were in your mind or mine. Because my mind is dark and twisted. It has got voodoo dolls on its chipped, blackened walls. And all of the voodoo dolls look like you. All of them, have got pins bored into them. Pins, knives and even forks.
I look at you again, hold your hand and tell you that I want to take you for a walk. As you look at me, innocently, purely even, I smile and tell you that it was going to be a big surprise…

Sinking
Breathlessness
Bubbles
Dark Blue
Breathlessness
Black
Panic
Cold
Breathlessness
Water
Power
Claustrophobic
Rising
Feeling
Seeing
Thinking
Breathlessness
Rising
Higher
Resurfacing
Power
Air
Life
Magic
Timelessness