Power Passion Pain

Posted by Tehzeeb on Friday May 05, @07:08AM

Inspired by the song, Return to Innocence, I find me embarking on a journey, to meet myself. As I listen to the words of the song Return to innocence, I am overpowered by a tidal wave of emotions.The song strikes chords deep within me; I leave my world, our world, of material pleasures, deceit, greed and violence. I go home, to my roots. I return. To Innocence.

I return to a place of long ago. I do not remember it well, but I have not forgotten it; it is a part of me. It is the root of my plant of life. The power of love, the dignity of man, the deepest form of self-respect are the rhythms of this song of emotion.

I cross the barriers of what the world thinks, what society thinks. Instead I venture into the unchartered territory of what I think, what I feel. I look deep within myself. I am enveloped by the world that lies within. A world, where three people exist. Me, Myself and I.

I cry out of grief that lies bottled up inside of me. The grief that I’m too proud to admit even exists. I laugh at the stupid jokes that I remember but was too grown up to openly find amusing. I dance for all the times I have won a race but have not displayed my infinite joy. I cry out in ecstasy as I recall the beauty of life and all it encompasses. I go home, to myself, with me and all alone with I. We travel, we journey into the labyrinth of my soul. We return ------To Innocence”..

The rhythmic movements of my heart beat in time to the music, like the sounds of an old drum, faint, soft but sure and strong .I feel like a child looking into a mirror for the first time .For the first time I “see” myself. I look deep into my eyes, into the mirrors of my soul.

I see a vulnerable, sensitive, private person who fights passionately for what she truly believes in. I also see a fiery short-tempered teenager who flies off the handle at the smallest thing, but on deeper observation, I see that she only uses it as a shield to prevent anyone from venturing too deep into her world. Her private world. Where only what she thinks and feels count.

A smile tugs, like an impatient child pulling her mother’s sari to get her attention, at the corner of my lips I dredge up the past. Memories I’d like to keep buried like a treasure chest inside of me.

I remember my grandfather, a tall, strong dreamer with a vacant almost vulnerable look in his eyes and remember his almost frightening need, craving for nature and her beauty. I enter through the doors of my soul and see him sitting on a rock in Khandala with his trusted camera in one hand, blade of grass in his mouth and a hand stroking the fur of his dog Caesar. I run to him, sit on his lap and cry my heart out .Cry, not so much because of anything else but for the fact that I’ve kept it buried deep inside me for three years; I cry for the loss of a man I loved so much.

Here, in my world, I am not afraid. I don’t need to be brave for my mother, my grandmother or even my eight-year old sister. I cry like a baby and howl like a wild animal at the pain, which hits me almost like a physical blow. I don’t have to pretend for anyone. I am face to face with my grief and sorrow. I meet it once and for all in the battle field; but the curious thing is we don’t battle against each other, we don’t pretend that the other doesn’t exist. We look at each other long and hard. Tears of sorrow and rage flow like rivulets down my cheeks. But we keep staring.

I hop off my grandfather’s lap, smiling. I am finally at peace. I walk back to my other world. The one I’m bound to by fate. But I will come back to the one I’m bound to by and for life. I will return soon. I will return-------To innocence’’’.