Bheekhu saw more people these days in Bade Sahib's office. Ravi, his co-worker (a very modest coinage for another domestic help like him) informed his in a smart tone that it was an election year, so they will have more chores to do in the house alone. He had worked in Bade Sahib's house for almost two months; Ravi had been there ever since he was five, but even he had still not seen as much furor as this. He had overheard the driver talking about "a return to power" or some homonym. While doing the dishes, Ravi once again bragged him about Sahib hoisting a flag some day next week. Bheekhu asked what was the occasion, cursing his negligence and his naive nature. While Ravi howled he told him it was 15 Agast.
Bheekhu was an illiterate, but he was still not stupid enough to ask Ravi what it meant. But he was curious boy, and eventually rounded the cook in the late hours of a dopey afternoon next day. With a bundle of bidi he bribed him successfully. But his answer was really terse, and left more questions than it answered- it means being free, the Angrej left the country and we were free to do whatever we want.
As the day progressed the skies grew grey. He finished doing the dishes, ate his food and took his place on the kitchen floor. He looked out of the window, the lightening, the downpour being incessant. Free, the word had echoed in his mind throughout the day. He dare not discuss it with Ravi, he made enough fun of him already. But free was not a difficult word. He knew it alright. He knew that it meant doing something out one's own will. He wondered what it could be like to free for a day or two.
Would he be allowed to dress up in a smart uniform and board a shining yellow bus for an Angreji school? Would he have two square meals each day? Would he get a a proper bed to sleep on? Would he get to see his poor parents again who had sent him to the city for some cash? Will he ever get to dress up in crisp and colorful clothes like these city folks do? Will he ever own one of these cars which run like raging bulls on the roads? Or a shiny handsome bike, which the Chota Sahib owns? Will he ever learn to read, something that he desired with all his heart. Will he ever be free of his limp, the one which he had carried since some polio thing happened to him. Will he ever be free of all these constraints that hold him back and live life as he should- free.
Bheekhu turned and tried to catch some sleep, and secondly the floor was damp while facing the window. He suddenly remembered that he had to wash Sahib's car next morning. He was not free, not yet.
Bheekhu was an illiterate, but he was still not stupid enough to ask Ravi what it meant. But he was curious boy, and eventually rounded the cook in the late hours of a dopey afternoon next day. With a bundle of bidi he bribed him successfully. But his answer was really terse, and left more questions than it answered- it means being free, the Angrej left the country and we were free to do whatever we want.
As the day progressed the skies grew grey. He finished doing the dishes, ate his food and took his place on the kitchen floor. He looked out of the window, the lightening, the downpour being incessant. Free, the word had echoed in his mind throughout the day. He dare not discuss it with Ravi, he made enough fun of him already. But free was not a difficult word. He knew it alright. He knew that it meant doing something out one's own will. He wondered what it could be like to free for a day or two.
Would he be allowed to dress up in a smart uniform and board a shining yellow bus for an Angreji school? Would he have two square meals each day? Would he get a a proper bed to sleep on? Would he get to see his poor parents again who had sent him to the city for some cash? Will he ever get to dress up in crisp and colorful clothes like these city folks do? Will he ever own one of these cars which run like raging bulls on the roads? Or a shiny handsome bike, which the Chota Sahib owns? Will he ever learn to read, something that he desired with all his heart. Will he ever be free of his limp, the one which he had carried since some polio thing happened to him. Will he ever be free of all these constraints that hold him back and live life as he should- free.
Bheekhu turned and tried to catch some sleep, and secondly the floor was damp while facing the window. He suddenly remembered that he had to wash Sahib's car next morning. He was not free, not yet.
I have always wondered what Freedom really means. To an extent, I agree it should be the ability to do as you please. But I find more or less most discussions come down to people associating freedom with fulfilling their fervent wishes - eat, sleep, wear whatever they want, do as they please or even a shining bicycle which the Chota Saheb owns. Makes me wonder what it is that we want to be free from.. Society? Responsibility? Are we seeing freedom as simply a carefree life?
ReplyDeleteHow about Freedom of having an opportunity to get what we want.. Would it not be enough?