“What Is Independence, Mummy?”

“What is independence?” You asked me, your five-year-old eyes twinkling, catching the rays of the sun shining down on us here in England. The irony never fails to startle me, celebrating the motherland’s independence as we sit here on the land of her colonizer. I want to tell you so much. I want to tell you about the freedom fighters, the freedom struggles, the protests, the revolutions _– about the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives for freedom, this state of existence that you take for granted, I take for granted, we all take for granted. 

What is independence then? 

I look at you and I see the curiosity on your face, and all I tell you is that independence is doing something on your own. It is doing something on your own without being asked not to do it or being prevented from doing it. 

“So can I touch fire? Can I touch it because I’m not allowed to?” you ask me, cheekiness clamouring around your expression. 

“Well, child, independence is doing something on your own, keeping in mind that it does not harm you or anyone or anything around you”

“Okay Mummy” you call out to me as you run out into the garden to play.

 I wish someday I can really tell you our journey from motherland to here, and somewhere in the pockets of history, I hope you find the meaning of your roots, your existence, and of course learn about this fundamental human right of freedom, which the motherland, our motherland, had to fight for. And this struggle somehow has been completely wiped off from the history that is being taught to you here in England. But I want you to know of it and I will make sure you do.