Have I told you how it felt? If I have then it was only a mere percent of what the feeling truly was. Have I ever felt that way before? Wind in my hair. Nature. Silence. Yes I have. But that exact way? Never. Neither will I feel that ever again. I stood one November afternoon, in the sunny cenotaph of white Chattris. Lots of trees rustling. The water flowing silent. I stood there atop the memorial. The life size statue still looks over the ruins of the palace that stood there once, hidden away in the forests of Chavand. He had given the place its name. From the Chamunda Temple there. He stands there. Witnessing. The dream that had inspired many more. A swadhin swaraj. Independence. The first freedom fighter of India stood perhaps a little happy that many after him had followed the path he chose. The likes of Shivaji Raje and Subhash Chandra. We are independent. The value of it however, I realized standing there. Before the one. Who lost everything personal for his country. He who had no personal happiness. I stood there. Feeling History.
~ Suranya