feathers dipped in
sky lie by the side
of a sandy road,
clouds slathered
in red mud tread
across the twilight
hour, in the glass
window of a parked
car, there is a stir of
flight as a jungle crow
swoops down over a
dead mouse; a young
girl smelling of scented
flowers passes by, softlike the rains last night
"It is the journey that matters..."
Wherever we went, we carried Auroville in our hearts. We travelled the world with memories of our life in the keet house stowed away like some precious treasure within a secret corner of our being, sometimes sharing them with friends we made along the way. We never presented it as the most perfect place, for that it wasn't. But, it was always a place of possibilities...the hurdles were there, and so was their acknowledgement, and the search for solutions. We all knew that Auroville is an ongoing experiment with its ups and downs and its own organic evolution. All that changed a few years ago when the Centre government decided to hijack the journey called Auroville, and turn it into a `project', where Aurovillians were expected to be 'team members' on a leash, coerced to walk a straight line, obey...and submit. This implied scrutinizing every movement of its 3000 some residents who have congregated here from around the world pursuing a dream. Stricter budgeting and...
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