The Silence of My Voice

When I started writing this evening, it'd been a simple enough fictional poem. Bu when I saw the Nirbhaya documentary, I changed my course. Here's  what I wrote on Medium. Please do see the documentary before the Indian government acts like a douchebag, and bans it. For those unable to open or access the link, following is what I wrote: Hi. I’m a daughter, a sister, a friend, a cousin. A woman. I AM A PERSON. I’m an Indian. And I’m not proud of my country. I belong to a family that’s liberal. A family that is open-minded. A family who was proud to have their first born child, a girl. A family that doesn’t assume the limits on my clothing. A family that doesn’t bar me from partying late in the night. A family that has every means to keep me safe and protected. A family that loves me. And I thank divine providence every single day of my life. I’m not like the little girls born in poor families who judge them down to be a mortifying curse. Or the families who are o...

What is really to be free? To be boundless? To fly away, Like Harry on Firebolt, With the free air,  And endless sun, With the inexpensive walks, And the solitude, With chanced meetings,  And forgotten memories, What is it that you give away from yourself, To be free? The hidden, uncaged remains, Of your soul? What is that place in your heart you have, That nobody else does? Everyone always find an excuse, To excuse their life somehow,  Behold, Don't let slip pass that second, When it'll be all you need, To squander your remaining life, The dissipation of selves, Sometimes is all required, To be free. There's a lot of collateral damage your freedom costs. Caged, Ak.