Gandhi (Gandhian Philosophy)

Nandini Sahu

Freedom

Sometimes I ponder

that my country’s limbs 

are crushed down somewhere 

in the busy traffic of a metro 

while freedom hides with shame

in its sixty-fifth year 

under the bed of the battered baby

deserted by parents, unknown,

in the trauma centre of AIIMS, New Delhi, India.

“Average three infants deserted daily

in the capital”—reports

the daily newspaper.

My fingers nimble

by the cold wind. 

Bruises everywhere

in the hurt air. 

Here, molested children 

and abandoned old parents 

prize their freedom 

in wakeful dreams.

And 

silently smile.

I scream inward 

to refurbish the old world. 

The sun is a falling rock. 

Sometimes I wonder

why my country’s limbs

are crushed down somewhere

in the false assurances

of power and failure

and in the fate of the girl

Gang-raped in a bus

by aged men and a minor

her silent death in a 

hospital, afar, stir

the depths of our rage.

I look at freedom in the eye,

freedom, the dry drone of

just a ritual.

In my ignorance, I wish 

to end this season 

the chaotic drum beats freeze around me

turning into twister pillars. 

Each hour, each second 

pass through my waiting veins 

like the shadow of a triumphal arch. 

I try to understand the only freedom 

I discern 

the freedom of the womb

and the  freedom of the ashes. 

Freedom hides somewhere in the contours of my

Country’s body, alien. 

Delhi, 10 a.m.,Winter

Did you hear it right?

It’s 10 a.m., January, Delhi. 

Hitherto, no light.

The sun is earnest and quiet.

The mist hangs heavy overhead.

Chandni Chowk is fighting

with seclusion; a man with

hands in his heavy coat pockets

whistles a tune to battle the chill.

No listeners out there.

Vaishnava jana to tene kahiye…

An old man, a freedom fighter, may be,

takes a proud walk in Rajghat

his teenage granddaughter prefers

Lady Gaga on her i-pod

waiting for grandpa in the car.

Vaishnava janato playing in Rajghat.

No listeners out there.

Delhi, the city of mosques and minarets,

the city of war and peace, stands still

at 10 a.m. It’s still a little shadowy in its own right.

Did you hear it right?

January, Delhi, 10 a.m., a tender delight. 

Bio: Prof. Nandini Sahu, Amazon’s best-selling author 2022, Professor of English and

Former Director, School of Foreign Languages, IGNOU, New Delhi, India, is an

established Indian English poet, creative writer and folklorist. She is the author/editor of twenty books. She is the recipient of the Literary Award/Gold Medal from the hon’ble Vice President of India for her contribution to English Studies. Her areas of research interest cover New Literatures, Critical Theory, Folklore and Culture Studies, Children’s Literature and American Literature. Currently she is designing an MA programme in Indian Knowledge Systems which are inclined to comparative Indian literatures and cultures as well as Hindu Studies.

www.kavinandini.blogspot.in

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Setu, October 2023 :: Gandhian Philosophy