On the road to freedom, I met this girl…

a poem by Prasad Hariharan

As the raindrops fall, the earth around me becomes hazy
I continue walking, indifferent, though not lazy;
From behind me, calls a voice ever so kind,
‘I’ll give you a lift, if you don’t mind.’

I stop in my tracks***, for a moment I am unsure,
Who is she, this lady demure,
Who wants to help me, at this time of night,
When all the world has resorted to flight.

Somehow I accept, and beside her I sit,
In this soft cushion, oh, how we seem to fit,
Like souls lost in a sea of comfort,
Struggling to break free, with all our effort.

The (hazy) screen ahead seems suggestive of our condition,
The blur symbolic of the bedlam and inhibition,
The path exists no longer, we think,
Between present and future, there seems no link.

We take a chance, and wipe clear the shield,
And suddenly, as if, it all seems to yield,
The road before our eyes unfolds,
New perspectives with it for us to behold.

We go our ways, with courage anew,
Nothing can stop us now, nothing shall we rue;

Destiny brings us together in strange ways,
A part of me she shall remain always…

(*** – Track suit actually!)