The Expanse Of My Solitude

Delhi never felt like home. Since I don't share a sense of belonging as of now, the interminable search of a home leads me to connect at least something to cities for the rough bargain of some sort of substantiality I want to feel. Approximately four years back when I landed up in the capital, I wanted someone to give me the freedom I lacked, as I was ill-equipped to get it on my own in any other form rather than in the form of charity perhaps. I can see this as clear as the day today whenever my thoughts travel to unknown lands asking uncertain queries for which I do not want to find any significant answers. It is just not possible. 

Certainly, Delhi has this magnanimous heart that would embrace you in its arms like lovers who squeeze you so tight that you are almost left short of breath. You end up gasping for your life. 

I know freedom always comes at a price but this price that you pay is just too much. I came here to be anonymous, I did not want anyone to find me. And, the constant honking of traffic that's buzzing forever almost to the point of making you deaf, not to forget the crowd that do not seem to have any faces at all provide you the perfect environment to be that. Anonymous, in and out. 

Your pockets are empty before you know it just for the sake of a few grains of sunlight or maybe a window or a balcony so that you can breathe pollution. Delhi takes away more than it has to offer. But, if I let my brutal honesty take charge, I would be erroneous in saying that Delhi did not give me anything. So, I do not deny that I grew into the badass woman that I am now. I am not that girl anymore. Here. 

To help with a little clarity, I am not anyone's girl for that matter. I crash sometimes but I wake up and how the hell I fucking wake up. It is stern and chilling and I like that.

I do not desire my hands to be held. 

I do not ask for freedom. I fucking snatch it. 

I lost so much in this process but there is not an iota of guilt. The loss does not hurt me. It does not break my heart. Instead I go out there to have it broken so that I exploit it for something substantial, something abstract, something art. I like this new strong me, despite the chaos, despite my unusual bouts of gall.

I am thinking as I am going away. 

I am grieving as I am leaving things behind, digging up their burial ground. 

I am hesitant but I know I will be alright. The air is clearer here, the sky is still a long way from not being able to create the revolving cloud heavens. I know I cannot enjoy the comparable amount of anonymity here. My life will be counted. I would be looked upon a little more. But, I believe it is finally okay for me to snatch the freedom if she has to, just for the fact that she has so painfully learnt how to do it. My independence this time would be responsible. It would be nothing less than outrageous, outright.