Thursday, 14 August 2014


August 1947. Clear blue sky. Swaying green fields. Ash black coal. Rusty brown train engine. Steel grey smoke. White, empty noise. Partition. Death. Loss. The freedom fighters bowed. Independence was welcome, even though freedom was coloured a blood red.

August 2014. Colourless winds. Azure blue sky. Dotted with greens, blues, whites and oranges. As the kites soared and fell, he smiled. He had freed so many kites from their chains that day. Like his forefathers.

His hands were bloodied by the sharp kite string. 

Freedom was still blood red.