Highway- the road to freedom by Juhi Meshram

Raina… kaari kaari koylaan si raina

Neendi tola, tola si naina

Taaron ka bichhona.. chain se sona

Gota gota gudri mein ghoomega ghaamega

Sooha saaha main nani le jaana

“utho bhaya, kasana phone kiye go,,” and yet another dream of Mahabir was disturbed by hustle and bustle of his life.  Millions of times he dreamed it, and million was the time it remained incomplete. “fir ajj oo saaale ka kaam b to khatam  kre ka hai ...”.  He opened his eyes balked to the voice and noise; voice of his fellow who knocked off his dream with handful of harsh realities and noise of go-down, the wheat storage where they stayed all night.

Bandit, contract killer, were all his identities. Identity. What was his identity.  His profession, his childhood, his background. None looked like the one he had ever wished, he had ever wanted. A 6 feet tall, brown, perfectly built up to look dangerous ... he was a man of his actions with aggression being his shadow and violence his diet.

Dhammmmm. The bullet left its court and a man was shot dead. Pause. Mahabir and his comrades tried to escape the scene with the backdrop of guns and a girl. The girl along with her car became their key to escape and they... escaped.

The girl was rich. 5’5”, fair skinned, youthful who could be identified as the daughter of renowned minister.

Aadoo: bhayo, kasana bhi hath chod diyo hai, ab ka karogo

Mahabir: le ke javego laundiya

Tonk : per bhayo, police lag javegi , minister paiso na dio to

Mahabir: laundiya ki jaan pe aawegi to minister ka baap b dego paise. Apan apne bootein pe le jawega laundiya.. jeko aana hai aavo.

And Mahabir was now a kidnapper. They traveled. From city to city, state to state, place to place... to hide. They beat her, tortured her, tied her hands, filled clothe to her mouth.

She tried to escape, tried and failed. But then she realized that the thing she was trying to escape was the one she had always wished, she always wanted; an open sky, refreshing air, the feeling of being free. Stockholm syndrome.  She started talking to them, liking them.

Mahabir: jada moh na lagawo laundiyo no.

Aadoo: nah bhayo, nah nah.

Mahabir: iske baap se firauti lewego aor saali laundiya kothe me daal dewego.

Ee saale ameer logan gariban no manorajan smjhe,,, gariban ke amma ko ijjat se khele au leke kon jaye aurat ko ,,, oko pati. Saala rat bhr kutiya k bahr baitha roye au ghr aake gussa b aurat pe nikale.

Mahabir was wearing it; aggression. He wore it since his childhood. He wore it when his mother was used as sexual pleasure by factory owners but he couldn’t do anything, he wore it when his father abused and beat his mother every other day but he couldn’t do anything, he wore it when he faced his mother’s sad sobbing face but couldn’t do anything.

The girl, Veera, on the other hand, did not hate him. She helped him escape the police, she helped him demand ransom from her father.

For her, he was an angel who rescued her from the plastic, unpleasant life back home and for him, she was a high society product, high society that ruined his childhood pushed him into crime.

But her behavior, her innocence developed a sense of inclination inside him for her. He offered her new clothes, food and also a freedom to roam around with them not like a victim but like a companion.

Tota bole pedon pe, ped se, poodi se

Sooha saaha neendan mein okha na ho

Sangi saathi, hansu ne thaare ho na ho

Sooha saaha, amma ka..

Sooha saaha, amma ka..

He used to hum this song so often, this lori his amma used to sing, to pour her love... making him sleep, making him dream, making him escape the reality. But he escaped his house, traveled to city... to crime and violence. He felt the same here. Bounded, like he couldn’t do anything but here, he could violate against the nature of society snatching its peace. And for him it was enough.

Veera: mere ek uncle the, hmesha ghar aate the mere lie chocolate late the muje bht pyaar krte the. Fir bathroom me le jate the, god me bithate,,,waha b pyaar krte the, mai dard me chillati thi,,,muh daba dete the taki meri chikh na sunayi de,,,

Mahabir was listening to her as she continued.

Veera: maine maa ko btaya, maa ne bola sshh kisiko mt btana. Mai chup rhi. Vo aj b aate h mere uncle, aj b mai unki god me baithti hu... vo aj b muje pyaar krte h.

She was crying, she was speaking, and she was looking at him.

Veera hugged him for hearing her. He looked at her and tears couldn’t resist floating. He hid his face but couldn’t hide his heart. A heart that was not a criminal but was still a child, a kid who wasn’t born bad but was nurtured badly by the society, the society he was doing bad to. It was like giving back from where he got.

Veera: amma kaha h tumhari.

Mahabir: gaon me.

Veera: tum unse milne jaoge, promise kro muje... jaoge.

Mahabir promised.

He now knew that she didn’t belong to that society but was victim of the society. Just like him. She was like him. They were alike. They wanted the same: freedom.

He decided to send her back. But she denied. He tried. He pushed his fellows out of it, he took her to the town, he asked her to go to the nearby police station, and he told her to go home. He ran, ran away. He tried and failed. Because he was fragile but she was strong. 

They traveled together, to mountains, river, to nature.

Kasana had told him at the time of kidnapping.

Kasana: kutte ki maut marego saale

Mahabir: kutta kutte ki hi maut marego na.

He knew his end was near, and he knew it won’t be pleasant but he was ready to grab it.

For once, for only a day but it happened. They lived. Far away from the voice of society and noise of past. They lived. Together. On the mountains, roamed, rented a hut, cooked, ate, slept, woke up. Together. A perfect day.

Dhammm. Again a bullet left its court. Pause. Veera turned her eyes from beautiful scenery of mountains towards the sound.

She turned to find Mahabir shot, shot by police and laid on ground. She ran to him, covered him, protected him from police; society. He was dead but she couldn’t believe. She spoke, spoke to him, told him that everything was going to be fine, that he would meet his amma soon.

She kept on speaking because she was not ready to accept because she couldn’t do anything. She left her house, went to mountains, lived the life she always wished. She was happy because she got hers... but he got his too...freedom.