Evey woman has an Akanshaa (I call it; her way of dreaming 'Freedom of Life') living in her upto certain extent. Some are mother's, some are wives and some are daughter's. Some live their independence some don't or just cannot.
A photo replica of painting done by me some few months ago on similar thoughts of 'Freedom of Life'
When I envisage your face, I plainly smile. But more profusely I worry and grit my teeth when you cross my thoughts. I wonder, about the inheritance of deep sets below your eyes. I question, parches on your sodden lips. I suffer, rooted scars below your skin when you limp across the floor. I think, of life circle that you succumb to. I then confront, each night of how you live in the silent somber. I then regret, all the miseries that you walk into. You light up the dark and then progress yourself in the agony of falling night. You rise and shine like every other day. How do you not break free, O Dear?
I play the blame game but deep down inside I know I have already lost the toss. The loathing caused beneath you and me is all the same. Your mystique is of silence and my propagation is of words. I am the fruit of the tree that you are rooted to. How then, eternal visage of mine, not resemble you?
O’ child bearer, educate me the way you held my finger once, to stand up and rise!
Imbibe me with how I let the sovereignty flow to them.
For once, I want to realize, what freedom tastes to them…