It was all fine till that moment; when that man in white slapped me hard on my buttocks dangling me by my feet. And with that first infliction of pain came a flurry of tags. I was a son, a nephew and by the virtue of a late act by my grandfather, an uncle. And as I grew, so did the list of tags. I was soon a brother; and then a friend. And so on.
With these tags came conditioning; obligations rather. Each tag came with a set of attached requirements - of love, of hate and of compromise. Choices became fewer. I was forced to love and hate based on the million conditions that applied to each of these tags. I learned to follow before I could lead. I learnt to listen before I could speak. The strings grew tighter. They demanded detached tears and indifferent smiles. It became a leash, dragging me along, away from everything I wanted. And I followed obediently.
But somehow, it was bound to go wrong. Inevitably. Because underneath all those tags, suffocated and stranded I suffered, struggling for some air. Because before I was son, a brother and a friend, I was a human being. And even God, has no right to mess with my free will.
