Freedom

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© 2010 Manoj Chennamangalam 
Disclaimer : Any resemblance to anyone is purely coincidental


Looking up from my window I can see him on the balcony
Covered by a thin blanket, shivering in the cold
Short, slightly built and a big scar on his chin
He looked 10 or 11 but may have been more
He was a slave and slept in the balcony of the house across mine

Teary eyes, worn out clothes
I see him look out into the night and at the stars
I perceive blankness in his gaze where I am sure dreams played around in the past
Occasionally I have seen him on the ground floor walking the dog
He never looked up at me and never returned my half smiles
He was a slave and existed in the balcony across mine

Was he good looking, was he intelligent?
Did he have loving parents, naughty siblings or even a home somewhere?
Did he get stolen, sold or did he run away ?
I don’t know and may never know
I know he is not hungry or sick but is not free
He was a slave and existed in the balcony across mine

He worked all day and came to his perch late at night
And was gone again before dawn
When I hear people shout at him
I want to teach him to fly so that he can fly off the balcony
But I forget that he is a slave and has his wings clipped off

What is freedom ?
Is there anyone who is not bound to anything ?
Some are bound to their past, some to their current thoughts and
Few others are prisoners of their destiny
Is there anyone who is truly free , I don’t know ..

“No child labor” the newspaper ad shouts , “No slavery” the TV says
The name plate says a Doctor lives in the house across mine
Can the hand that saves lives hold them chained?
Alas, the sign of our times..
I live across from a slave who has forgotten what freedom means


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