There are moments in life when freedom can come to you in one spurt, leaving you free of all doubts, apprehensions, cynicism and misgivings, even if for a split second. Enjoy that moment in time! Happy Independence Day!
Enjoy Morning Meanderings with a hot cup of tea or coffee and some cookies to munch on the food for thought. 😊 ☕️
I stood at the threshold of my flat, gripped by a dilemma, gazing at the loafing, insane clouds, chasing each other, threatening to drench the earthlings about to launch themselves into the maelstrom of another cloudy day. Eyes riveted on the skies, they wondered whether it would rain immediately, or whether it would take some time. Should they take their umbrellas along? Carry their raincoats on their walk? Abandon the idea of a walk and celebrate freedom at home?
A man ventured out warily, lips firmly pressed together, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes fastened upon the darkling horizon. Rolling thunder crashes across the sky, and the wind suddenly goes on a rampage. No point going for a walk today, I decided, coming back into the safety of the house and sitting on the settee in my room, eyes on the road in front.
From the window, I saw a tiny, ill-clad boy following his mother, a woman who, I have often seen working at the construction site and also washing utensils in a couple of houses in the neighborhood. He looked sleepy and sad, and my heart went out to him.
No longer able to sit comfortably on the settee, I raced out to give him a hug, but he appeared in no mood to be hugged, so I restrained my itching arms, watching him following his mother into the neighbour’s house.
I noticed a couple of men, who had ventured out, defying the bad weather and one of them had his eyes hooked on his cell phone, a smile playing on his lips.
“Listen to this, Guptaji,” he said to the bulky man walking next to him.
“What?” Guptaji almost snapped, an embodiment of grumpiness.
“Only 72 years after independence, real independence has dawned this year.” He said, the smile becoming broader.
“How?” Guptaji yawned a huge yawn. Free. Symbolic of unshackled freedom. “Because Independence Day and Raakhi fall on the same day today and all wives will go to their parents’ house for Raakhi, and the relieved husbands will celebrate freedom.” He chuckled an untethered chuckle.
Guptaji’s yawn now miraculously morphed into a guffaw, which fell into the ears of the child who had just come out of the neighbour’s house, possessively holding on to some balloons. Hearing their guffaws, he also lost his scowls, and smiled the biggest smile I had ever seen on the face of so small a child. Enthused by his smile, I looked expectantly in his direction; he was still smiling. Losing not a second, I walked up to him and scooped him in my arms, hugging him tightly. The little boy was one big smile now, and in one burst of generosity, he chose the fattest balloon from his bloated booty, and handed it to me. I gaped at the tiny tot, kissing him on the cheeks.
The rain had come and gone, the sun was winking from behind some resiliently dark clouds, and there was a rainbow in the sky. Freedom had come to me in one spurt. The tiny tot’s spontaneous gesture of parting with his precious wealth had freed me, at least temporarily from all doubts, apprehensions, cynicism and misgivings that had been plaguing me, of late.
A tiny sparrow took an ascending flight from the rain splattered ground to the nearby tree and I gasped as I saw the sun bursting forth from behind the clouds with a winning smile. Its golden eyes held a promise.
Holding the promise and the balloon close to my heart, I headed home. Tomorrow was another day.
We are editorially independent, not funded, supported or influenced by investors or agencies. We try to keep our content easily readable in an undisturbed interface, not swamped by advertisements and pop-ups. Our mission is to provide a platform you can call your own creative outlet and everyone from renowned authors and critics to budding bloggers, artists, teen writers and kids love to build their own space here and share with the world.
When readers like you contribute, big or small, it goes directly into funding our initiative. Your support helps us to keep striving towards making our content better. And yes, we need to build on this year after year. Support LnC-Silhouette with a little amount - and it only takes a minute. Thank you
Got a poem, story, musing or painting you would like to share with the world? Send your creative writings and expressions to firstname.lastname@example.org
Learning and Creativity publishes articles, stories, poems, reviews, and other literary works, artworks, photographs and other publishable material contributed by writers, artists and photographers as a friendly gesture. The opinions shared by the writers, artists and photographers are their personal opinion and does not reflect the opinion of Learning and Creativity emagazine. Images used in the posts (not including those from Learning and Creativity's own photo archives) have been procured from the contributors themselves, public forums, social networking sites, publicity releases, Morguefile free photo archives and Creative Commons. Please inform us if any of the images used here are copyrighted, we will pull those images down.