She sat staring at the bright screen and it stared right back at her with nothing. It drove her mad. She walked out of her cell that she shared with 4 other fellows, who were gifted enough not to plow through on the last day of the week. She didn't mind their absence. There were very few souls that inhabited her adjacent cells which was sheltered under a long holding made of thick glass and cheap steel. She identified herself at the first glass door and again at the second metal door to walk to the outer less polished corridor. Her fingers absently traced the cold metal railings of the corridors as she walked to the box in the shaft that sailed her down from the third level. The rough stone walkway led her out of her metal cage that was oddly shaped like a bird. A giant,ugly,steel cage bird.
Everything around her screamed of conformity. The neutral shades may give out an aura that this means business but it clearly shouts to the lot here, "Comply and you shall believe that you are thriving". It reminded her of the colours of the shackles that had clasped her souls. She is one of them. She has been one of them for four long summers and four mildly cool winters. She had the coin, not complaining at that front, but this is not who she is. She is a free spirit. She wondered when she was tamed and it scared her. It scared her a lot.
She walked to the eatery to get something to quench her thirst and settle the the rumblings of her heavy breakfast. Her black stole took the direction of the wind. She tried to curb the garment but failed miserably at the act, so much she let it dance in the air. There was no one around anyway to judge her modesty for she had let her stole fly around. She looked down at her dress. Black with white and brownish green threading all over. Her friends mocked that this dress of hers looked like a thousand crows had shat on it. She didn't like the comment much as this was one of her favourites, but coming to think about it now, it does looks like crow shit. She smiled. Something that hardly came up these days.
As she walked there were less din than the other days of the week. She grasped none. It was all white noise around her. She was able to distinguish them though. A power provider's grunts, a mason's strikes, a loud girl's high pitch laughter, a few distant musical notes, the kitchen noise from that other eatery on her way, the splash of water from the green hose, held by a garden man in green clothes watering green leaves that were there apparently for no good reason. They were supposed to appease the mundanity of the cages, but steel grey and bottle green were never the colours of excitement. She heard all the noise but failed to pay any heed to them. She was going deaf to the life around.
The eatery that served her needs was three steel cages afar. She kept her head bowed. Not in submission but in curiosity. She saw the stones laid on the walkway. As a child, she used to measure her strides so that she did not step on the edges of the stone, something she always did with so much involvement that her head found her forerunner's arse many a times. Yet she did it. In her every walk. In all her journeys. But somehow she had stopped measuring her strides. She wondered why. It was just a queer habit that she had lost with time, like most of the things she enjoyed doing. She thought she would do it now. But the walkway stones were longer and it would look foolish to walk with long strides that even involved a few hops. There were not many around, yet she wouldn't do it. She hated being held back.
Her quencher was a brown effervescing drink that neither quenched her thirst nor settled her stomach. She walked back to her bigger cage, took the box up, then to the corridor and then to her glass holding and then walked back to her cell after identifying at the two doors. She was a bit nervous to bring the quencher to her cell, as the guards were intolerant to anything edible in there. But her cage was not well guarded that day. May be the safety compliance of her steel cage was laid back on the last day of the week.
She realized her fear had stemmed out of her bent back.
So bent, she was even afraid to look up at anything around her.
So bent she let her life waste away staring at the ground.
So bent she thought her mind was rusting to normality.
So bent she forgot her last free opinion.
She went back to her staring. Her relentless, pointless staring at the brightness in front of her.
That's when she heard a scream from within.
Everything around her screamed of conformity. The neutral shades may give out an aura that this means business but it clearly shouts to the lot here, "Comply and you shall believe that you are thriving". It reminded her of the colours of the shackles that had clasped her souls. She is one of them. She has been one of them for four long summers and four mildly cool winters. She had the coin, not complaining at that front, but this is not who she is. She is a free spirit. She wondered when she was tamed and it scared her. It scared her a lot.
She walked to the eatery to get something to quench her thirst and settle the the rumblings of her heavy breakfast. Her black stole took the direction of the wind. She tried to curb the garment but failed miserably at the act, so much she let it dance in the air. There was no one around anyway to judge her modesty for she had let her stole fly around. She looked down at her dress. Black with white and brownish green threading all over. Her friends mocked that this dress of hers looked like a thousand crows had shat on it. She didn't like the comment much as this was one of her favourites, but coming to think about it now, it does looks like crow shit. She smiled. Something that hardly came up these days.
As she walked there were less din than the other days of the week. She grasped none. It was all white noise around her. She was able to distinguish them though. A power provider's grunts, a mason's strikes, a loud girl's high pitch laughter, a few distant musical notes, the kitchen noise from that other eatery on her way, the splash of water from the green hose, held by a garden man in green clothes watering green leaves that were there apparently for no good reason. They were supposed to appease the mundanity of the cages, but steel grey and bottle green were never the colours of excitement. She heard all the noise but failed to pay any heed to them. She was going deaf to the life around.
The eatery that served her needs was three steel cages afar. She kept her head bowed. Not in submission but in curiosity. She saw the stones laid on the walkway. As a child, she used to measure her strides so that she did not step on the edges of the stone, something she always did with so much involvement that her head found her forerunner's arse many a times. Yet she did it. In her every walk. In all her journeys. But somehow she had stopped measuring her strides. She wondered why. It was just a queer habit that she had lost with time, like most of the things she enjoyed doing. She thought she would do it now. But the walkway stones were longer and it would look foolish to walk with long strides that even involved a few hops. There were not many around, yet she wouldn't do it. She hated being held back.
Her quencher was a brown effervescing drink that neither quenched her thirst nor settled her stomach. She walked back to her bigger cage, took the box up, then to the corridor and then to her glass holding and then walked back to her cell after identifying at the two doors. She was a bit nervous to bring the quencher to her cell, as the guards were intolerant to anything edible in there. But her cage was not well guarded that day. May be the safety compliance of her steel cage was laid back on the last day of the week.
She realized her fear had stemmed out of her bent back.
So bent, she was even afraid to look up at anything around her.
So bent she let her life waste away staring at the ground.
So bent she thought her mind was rusting to normality.
So bent she forgot her last free opinion.
She went back to her staring. Her relentless, pointless staring at the brightness in front of her.
That's when she heard a scream from within.
the best one yet !!
ReplyDeleteMy gratitude she-bling.
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