From within the rush of the bus,
the breath longs to break free;
yet, at the same time, a thought seeks
to gestate within the womb of contest—
a well-formed embryo of triumph.
Despite every solemn effort at Nadi Shodhana (yogic breath-cleansing),
to bring balance to one’s inhalation and exhalation,
the inner realm of the mind still yearns for a king’s crown,
the veil of recognition, and the reward of contentment.
Look—amidst the mob,
a thousand heads of despair have begun to rise;
the vocal cords are tattered and weary,
while faces, limp and drenched in sweat,
reveal their fatigue
in an attitude of silent protest.
Yet, the crowd continues to swell,
and with it, the creeping vines of expectation—
flattery and calculated schemes
to forge bonds of “you are mine, and I am yours.”
The mind wishes to escape the crowd,
yet feels an irresistible pull
to remain within it.
Assuming the avatar of Trishanku—
(epic character suspended between ascent and descent)—
at times, staring fixedly downwards,
at other times, gazing upwards,
building castles of hope amidst restless striving,
and crafting endless tactics.
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Dr. Alok Kumar Ray
Odisha, India
Picture Nick Victor
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