On setting them free

No one can re-live a feeling. One can only remember and assume what it had felt like.
You can remember that fall you had when you started riding a bicycle, that bruise on your elbow, that cut on the knee, the drop of blood trickling from the cut, the stream of tears that washed your face and how you wanted to run home but could not. Why? Because it hurt. How much was the pain? You don't remember, but it made you cry so it must have been a great deal. You wouldn't cry for nothing. That is were assumption works, imagination comes and in our mind we try to reconstruct a feeling that we don't remember. Yet if you had to go through the same situation today, you would not even wince. Worse still you would probably laugh at the whole thing!
Memories trick us. Through them we live those feelings which are nothing but gross exaggerations of reality.

Old feelings are all like old wounds. You don't remember how much it had hurt, likewise you don't remember how deep you had felt.

One such ancient feeling haunts me.. no, 'haunt' will be a wrong, it doesn't frighten me.
So, one such ancient feeling looms over me for no reason. Actually, there is a reason. If it would not have been for the reason, the feeling would have died in some locked corner of my mind. Of course it would have left its traces on the pages of my diary that was noted down in a form of a poem some 2 years back.


So this ancient feeling, it was more than a decade back. The town where I lived had a common big(don't go on the adjectives I use, since they all come from memory) market. Just at the entrance there was this man who used to sell birds. You know, small colourful birds, the sight of which is bound to make you smile. Birds that never got tired of chirping, birds kept in cages, birds that seemed to shout for freedom. I often thought how much would it cost to buy them all. And if my pocket money would be enough to set them free. I never quite got to ask my parents in fear that I would not be able to explain why I wanted to buy and then set them free. So this fancy somehow never made to reality.

I left the town pursued my studies and then landed here.

There is a shop here on the main road where my house is. The same kind. And as I cross it, that feeling comes back or rather the memory of that feeling comes back. And probably memory has magnified that feeling to an extent that I deliberately brood over it now and then. I could put an end to this brooding thing by simply going there, buying them and setting them free. Why spend so much time thinking about it, why write a blog entry on it!

Do you think their wings are clipped? Do you think they will be able to fly? Do think if I set them free, they will come back to that man? Is that not their home? Were they caught or were they bred? Have they ever been in the sky, known the world for which they are meant? If I take them out of their secured cages, do you think they will be able to survive? Having been fed all their life, will they be able to find food for themselves? Will they adapt to the vastness of sky after they limits of the cage? And what about predators? Can they save themselves from them? And if they die after being set free, would you say this life was better than that death? At least they were not dead, or were they?

I do not know or rather I know that I cannot know.