Road to Freedom

The phantom streets,
Of El Dorado beckons.
Where the golden sunlight,
Bounces off the jagged ends ,
Of the golden pebbles.
Azure sky with cotton patches,
Adorn a candy look,
With the vibgyor a happy smile.
Colors splash everywhere-
Beyond the elastic horizon-
As far as the eye can see.
Starry velvetty nights,
With the cool breeze,
Mocks- tantalizes with its elusive illusion.
Music notes run amok-
None chasing them-
Letting the melody flow.
The mellifluous voice,
Stirs its listeners,
With a passion deeply suppressed.
Somewhere, the poignant strings,
Of a violin,
Turn the gaze soft in melancholy-
Letting it drift to the burning embers,
Of incomplete chapters.
The numbers flow on-
As the guitar gently weeps-
Arocknida man- 
Playing for peace,
To bring to life,
The dormant inside that disgruntedly sleeps.
The dancing shadows.
Match steps to beats.
Freedom calls out,
Its tentacles a magnet.
Freedom to be out on the
Streets- past midnight-safe.
Freedom to be happy,
In company.
Freedom- to shed all defences
And peel off pretences,
Instead be a child once more.
Piggy-backs and bike- rides,
Ceaseless conversations,
Over endless coffee cups.
Smell the air- so pristine,
Feel the noise- so real.
Let go,
Push against all boundaries-
For 'truth' to be given a chance- again.
Though very different,
With each other,
We sense unity.
There is a bond-pulsating-
Nascent in its form still.
Yet somewhere,
It looms larger than life today.
The urge is a physical itch almost-
To be part of this certain dream.
To be lured back into,
The magic of Pune.