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Thursday, August 19, 2010


I remember being on clouds since I can remember.

The older folk say there existed land below, once upon a time long past. You could set your feet on it, feel the warm, moist soil and tiny inanimate creatures called grass stick to the base of your foot and walk upon hard reality, filling your mind with a constant sense of heightened realism. There were hard structures, made of material called wood and softer growth on them called leaves, which sprang up high towards bright skies, embracing the openness, swallowing every bit of the atmosphere that they lived in. Creatures like us had extensions called limbs, which enabled us to walk upon this surface, among those green and brown creatures and a host of other animations. Life, had been “beautiful”; a word that the older folks used to describe something that could be looked at for long durations with a certain amount of elation in your psyche.
Alas, all of that doesn’t exist anymore.

It’s all white around. Expanses of soft, woolly, cotton-like clouds litter the skies as far as the eyes can see. You can perch for a little while, before it gives way, turning into wisps of shiny water droplets, twinkling in the light of the sun like a sea wave of a million diamonds. We have wings to keep us in the air all the time; suspended. I try to imagine what it must be like under the last layer of clouds. Does the land underneath still exist, like it is talked about in the legends? No one has been able to go down willingly. The stimulus ingrained in these wings of ours makes us take flight as soon as we start nearing the final cloud layer in the lower strata. They tell me that our ancestors had their own legends where they imagined people like us living among the clouds and christened them “fairies”. It was supposed to be their ultimate ideal of freedom. I smile to myself at the ignorance of the lost tribe and continue gazing at the wooly cloud tufts, floating by, as if in a dream.

I have always wanted freedom.

I want to break free of the monochrome circle of light and dark and venture into the unknown. I want to give up on the bales of clouds that our tribe has been surrounded by since eternity. I want to escape the legends of yore, the make belief heavens and abstract utopia. I want to reject the perpetual state of suspension and set foot on to reality, letting me feel the weight of my thought and flesh. I want to surrender the façade that my ancestors tagged ‘freedom’, and set upon an actual path of knowledge and wisdom. I want to explore the pathos attached to the lost emotion of ‘sacrifice’. I want to do all of this and so much more.
I don’t feel anything as I tear apart my wings; only a heightened sense of consciousness. I am too excited to feel the emotion they call “pain”. Maybe, just maybe, I shall be able to feel it once I have made it to the place below the last layer of the clouds. My mind is full of thoughts which seemed to have gained “feet” and finally seem to be moving around on them, instead of flying. I have started to descend at a rapid pace. The torn wings are still acting on impulse as I work hard to detach them from my existence. I don’t know if I shall live to see the wonders that I hope to see. I don’t know if my tribe would notice my disappearance and wonder at it. Streams of crimson flow upwards as I start to gather speed. My eyes feel moist. I know I have committed folly. I know I keeled over. I am aware of the thin line between servitude and self illumination that I overstepped as soon as the thought crowded into my mind. As I let go of my wing and fall through the final layer, I close my eyes and let a comforting thought, like the feel of grass, seep into my senses;

I am free…


Aman Rayjada said...


am amazed by the originality of the whole idea on which the work is based.

Also, it makes me think there's no limit to where one's mind can wander which completely justifies the theme!

Cheers man!

Runjoo said...

you are a published writer? that is so awesome :)

shallowabyss said...

i have almost given up on reading... Now that I have started reading your work more, I so want to read more of it and more of everything else... I have completely lost the patience or the will to write, most of what i write is hackneyed, and reading ur work makes me want to start writing soon.. I want to unlearn how to write...
I am inspired...

Purple said...

^ That just made your work significant. If nothing else.:)

When I was a kid, I used to think and think hard trying to imagine how afterlife would be like. And the usual dramatized conventionally accepted images of floating and fliying on the clouds for the rest of the life occured to me. I was corrected by a very intelligent person who said, our minds are not wired in a way that we can ever EVER in our WILDEST imaginations, picture what afterlife is going to be like.

Anyhow, this piece draws parallels with Rossetti's poem The Blessed Damozel. I suggest you read it.:)

Love your work,

Scribblers Inc said...

aman: I am tryin previously unexplored premises...how good or bad, is for you guys to decide!

Runjoo: aah yes...it does feel awesome! :)

shallowabyss: thats such a compliment! Thank you so much...please feel free to go through more writing...and do drop in your feedback! :)

Scribblers Inc said...

Purple: I just finished reading the poem...exquisite as always..reading rossetti after such a long time was indeed refreshing; reminded me of my college days...
I often wonder about how the future would shape up or what would happen when we die all the time...I have personally done atleast three different futures that come to mind now..but the future is the best fortune teller I guess! do read other writeups and gimme some feedback!:)

nil said...

Okay wow this was just wow. I mean seriously, this was good stuff!
I do hope you keep writing :)

nil said...

Okay wow this was just wow. I mean seriously, this was good stuff!
I do hope you keep writing :)

Shivangi Sud said...

Incredibly well written!

I like the way you've described the curiosity of the protagonist.. whether it be his idea of what freedom should mean or the world below. The ending couldn't have been more perfect.

Scribblers Inc said...

Nil: Thank you, and I shall endeavor to keep writing, only if writers like you keep visiting! :)

Shivangi: Hey! Glad you liked it! Check up other stuff and tell me what you think.

Mihir Vatsa said...

A break from a popular stereotype.

Wings are NOT meant to cherish freedom! Its the mind game involved. Freedom is a concept that everyone craves for, almost like a utopia. Man craves for Wings, Birds crave for a pair of legs. And this craving continues.

What's more important is to realize how this bird achieved its freedom. Freedom is a subjective concept. Isn't it? Different ppl or birds may cherish different concepts of freedom.


Jadis said...

aye. the mirror and the lamp.
save for the fact that here, there is no mirror.


S said...

Paradise Lost :)


Scribblers Inc said...

Mihir: Thanks a ton...glad you liked it! But er, where did you find the bird? I never said bird!

Jadis: ha ha ha yes! but wht? :/

S: aw, thats high praise!! :)
Thank you so much.

Mehak said...

wow, this is brilliant!
totally love your style! :)

Scribblers Inc said...

Mehak: thank you! Do come by again! :)

Zlaek said...

You create illusions for me. I don't know if it's just me, but I find it very easy to get stuck to one imaginary idea of yours and it takes a moment to come back.

prIncEss said...

Awesome read! But, at the moment i am a little disconnected from everything happening around. So, i wasn't able to enjoy it much. I want to explore your blog a little more!

P.S: This one left me "Smiling". I too feel FREE, now! :D

Keep writing MM!
Love! :)

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