A strand of mane

One fine day she was born,

A thin strand of jet black hue,

Glued itself to the crown of a girl,

With many other strands, some brown some grey,

And embarked on the journey happy and gay!

 

She was washed every day,

With water at times numb cold while at others luke warm.

She felt afresh after each wash.

She stretched while being combed,

Cuddled while being dried,

Choked while being tied,

But still continued to live happy and gay!

 

A morning it was, a dull one in fact,

She woke up to find few of her friends crying!

They were crying out of pain,

Pain of being uprooted!

She asked them what was wrong,

They told her it was time for them to leave!

Without a second word, or a goodbye wave,

They fell off, from their home, crown of the girl!

 

She felt devastated, vulnerable.

She could not stop her thoughts!

When was she going to be thrown out,

When would she be taken off her shelter.

She hid behind many others,

Scared of her end!

 

After a few days, again the dull morning was here,

She knew somehow that, this was it.

This very day she would be forced out,

Evicted from her dwelling forever.

She waited in composure,

The fear which lurched in her mind was gone,

A kind of ease settled about her!

 

She could sense freedom in being exiled,

Exiled from the clutches of a master,

She found a sort of serene freedom in death!

So she sat there ready to be plucked out.

In the flash of a second, she was combed out,

Combed out of the crown of that girl.

 

She fell down, on the ground,

Unlike others she never shed a tear of sorrow,

Instead the tear which dropped on the floor, was of happiness,

the happiness of being let free.

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