Free

The words finally come out, but are they free to go?
The reason they were released, you’re the only one to know,
I can’t ask those words because they just wouldn’t slow,
So all that we can do is merely go with their flow.

Just by themselves, they are merely listings in a lexicon,
But they can’t only mean that they mean, I reckon,
For, if only everything was as clear as the day,
I wouldn’t give a second though to anything you say.

But words are merely the method of an instrument,
One that can ask not, only mutely implement,
Whereas the mind is what the mind is,
And you very well know why I remind this.

The real orders come from the guilty one, the mind,
That elusive birthplace of every thought you can find,
It seeds them, waters them, weeds them, and reaps them,
All the while making you believe, you farmered them.

So you believe, that happiness is the result of an occurrence,
And that sorrow is consistent, only in its recurrence,
That you emotions are really well-thought reactions,
Caused purely as a result of somebody else’s actions.

You fail to realise you are a pawn in a wonderful game,
Where the mind puppets you, to live up, to you name,
Be always wary of the one that pulls those strings,
For that is the one who created all these things.

So every time you think you are free to say what you feel,
Free to objectively think and what you said you feel,
Remember, you’re an eternal prisoner of your own mind,
And it uses your weakest and simplest thoughts to forever bind.

This one is for the Gazebo. It is a sort of mixture of fact and fantasy. With Robo/Endhiran coming up for release this month-end, i thought it only pertinent to explore a favourite thought of Isaac Asimov. Is there such a thing like mind control, and if there is, can we really control our minds? Reminds me of the Mirabai bhajan “Chalo re man, chalo re man, ganga yamuna teer”. So often we believe that we know what we are doing, but in retrospect realise we were above our heads on that one. And more often than that we believe we know what is right and what is wrong, and that we consciously choose the path from among the two.

Alas there could be nothing more misguided than that. Not only do we merely have a belief of what is good and bad, as opposed to a knowledge of the same, we can’t even distinguish between the two at times. The fault does not entirely lie with our mental faculties, fundamentally right and wrong are not black and white issues, and it is the ignorance that they should be either black or white that causes the conflict. This poem was also my tribute to the movie Raavan that beautifully depicted those shades of grey, those means-justify-the-ends versus one-man’s-good-is-another-man’s-bad versus how-much-bad-can-we-get-to-accomplish-a-supposedly-good-thing dilemmas. One can only truly be free when one can function beyond the control of one’s own mind.

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Sitting Bull

For as long as the oldest among us has known,
We owned everything in sight over which the eagle has flown,
But those days and the eagle were about to be numbered,
And history textbooks was the only place we would be remembered.

When you came with your guns and priests, last fall,
You said they were for the betterment of us all,
You told us they would help turn us into civilized people,
And that we would truly become one with your people.

But your sight was unmistakably, always on the land,
One that you sought to grab with an iron hand,
So you set about mixing our destinies with our sand,
Slowly and surely, until there was none of us left to stand.

You began by setting tribe against tribe, brother against brother,
Till the mindless fights intensified enough to disown their mother,
You sat back and witnessed not just the death of those fighting,
But the very demise of centuries of our way of living.

Like cattle we were herded, from settlement to settlement,
And all we had covering our heads was each other’s resentment,
We were only left with the ground on which we stood,
And ironically many believed it was for our own good.

You can force my children to forsake their name,
And towards their own, feel nothing but shame,
Force them to believe, they are animals you should tame,
And turn them into pawns, in civilization’s shameful game.

You can take away everything you think I really own,
And rip apart my family, my home, to the very bone,
You can take my land, my culture, and my life away,
But you can’t stop me from living my life, my way.

Back to the Beacons, this one is for HBO. Among the things that shaped my views in the last 10 years, the most significant influence has been HBO. Every movie/masterpiece they have made has been thought-provoking in their own unique manner.

This one is inspired by the character Sitting Bull from their movie ‘Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee’. It is merely a lyrical translation of the movie’s theme. Which goes a long way in dealing with our ideas of freedom, and addresses bones of contention like whose freedom is worth what, whether one man’s freedom should be achieved/furthered through the slavery/captivity of the other, specially in a land that was built on liberation.

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