- Ramblings of a hopeless romantic
Come to me when the world doesn’t make sense
like an endless loop that feeds on itself
like a still house lizard that stares into eternal oblivion
like waves that come crashing down of their own weights
when the people around us seem to distress
and you are too tired to live in such a mess
If God is the architect of the world as we see around, Lila could very well serve as the lead designer, the brilliant nitpicker, or the daring dreamer. But just like the existence of God is arguable, so was Lila’s perception to the outside word. Lila was one of those rare persons who wouldn’t accept reality as a flat dimension present for the world to see. So, she made her own changes to the real world around her. You may ask how she would do that, to which I would say that Lila was obsessed with art, with her small on-the-go sketchbook, blunt pencils, broken crayons, art canvases and subtle strokes of paintbrush. She believed she had a major role to play in the world- she believed she could alter the world around her, so what if it was confined to just her sketchbook and at times, lofty canvases.
So she would arm herself with sketchbooks, pencils and crayons to the local bar, where she would sit for hours and just draw. She felt a reassuring sense of comfort around people engrossed in their own hustle bustle, such people who served as amazing art pieces for her to observe and bring to life in her world of sketchbooks. Once she entered her zone, she was like Moses ready to part the red sea in one swift movement of his hands. Her choice of subjects was even more interesting, if she saw a wilting flower, she would draw a blooming flower, then carefully with one eye closed place the sketch at a hands distance so that it superimposes itself on the stem of the flower just above the sepal. The world and its reality had a new dimension in the sketchbook, with a mischievous smile she would capture the imagery in her brain and quickly move on to the next subject. Her day had just started. Her nitpicking in god’s creation had just started. Her silent wage against defying God had just started.
She would go to a park and notice a girl with no friends, yearning for a set of balloons placed on a cart some distance from her. She had her next subject; quickly she would draw three soaring balloons with converging strings on the sketchbook. Once done, she would again do the ritual of placing the sketch at a hands distance and then superimpose it next to the girl on bench with her hands now holding the set of balloons. She would notice a puppy giving hard time to his man friend, tugging along the leash, and would suddenly draw a cute green colored dragon flapping its wings and wagging its tails. She would then add a red leash to it and superimpose it in the real world and have a great laugh seeing the dog’s owner chase a happy dragon now.
Just like that she would create worlds where lovers never left, where the cooing of birds replaced the traffic noises, where watchmen looked like knights, where the homeless lived in castles, where huge concrete buildings looked like mountains, where walls looked like frescoes, and street lights like palm trees, where buses looked like giant dragons, and bus stops looked like country homes that could make the Baggins of the Shire jealous.
She would return home during late evenings after she’s painted the world in her own color, adding her own twist to the climax of life. Even the walls of her home were painted in varied colors with birds, fairies, flowing rivers and pristine green valleys. She would drop her bags, take a full deep breath of the world inside and then swing open the windows. Sure enough her day had ended and her overflowing sketch book could any moment now explode, but her night had just started.
She would then pick up the photo frame placed on the bedside table having an old but treasured photo of hers with her parents. She still had the naughty smile she had back then, her mother as beautiful as the glowing, rising sun and her dad as firmly proud as the northern star would smile back and make her cheeks moist. Lila would then close her eyes and re-live a far memory from her childhood, when she was just seven and enjoying at a beach, with her parents standing at some distance, holding their hands. She would run to them and clutch her mother’s legs, who would then sit down on her knees, and hug her back while her father hugged both her girls smiling as radiantly as the sun above. Lila would hold herself in this moment of pure bliss, feeling the white warmth encapsulating her and making her ready for yet another day of nitpicking god’s creation and spreading love to distant quarters bordered by the hard frame of her sketchbook.
Lila's salvation lay in the solace of her dreams, and her dreams in the memories of her parents, who were no longer alive, at least physically. True is the fact that some realities are hard to change, and even God's lead designer returned to a home full of memories rather than people she loved and cherished. Happiness seemed as a forbidden fruit, which was real, only when shared.
P.S : I hope Lila's story inspired you. Drop in your comments below. If you like what you read, go to the subscribe page or like it on Facebook, would love to hear from you. Cheers!
Ankur was 15 when he really looked at the person in the mirror in front of him. To his astonishment, he found his body curvaceous.
Initially, he was terrified to gain parental acceptance for his condition. Questions haunted him all the time- Was something wrong with him? His brothers, would they still accept him as one of them?
He wanted to open up to someone and let it all out. There was no one more apt than his closest friend & confidante Arjun. He understood him, at times even more than himself! Usually they had their long conversations at the small smoking nook where elders and teenagers were oft seen having gold flakes and cold-drinks. Arjun searched newspaper clips and the internet so as to explain Ankur his biological changes. It was one fine day he finally announced him to be a “Transgender” or as more crudely put a “Hijra”.
Ankur was stunned, he didn’t know what to do next? Did he need some kind of a doctor? Finally he thought he could consult his uncle who was a “supposed” Ayurvedic doctor. Uncle Sharma was good to him, but there was something terribly wrong with his treating procedure or so Ankur felt. His evening hours denoted for playing were now spent with him. He had promised a good, under the covers treatment. He often wondered why this doctor never asked for fees? His relation to him could have been the answer to this. However, little did Ankur realize that on the pretext of treatment, his cruel uncle was actually raping him. Young Ankur saw him deriving pleasure as he rubbed his genitals against his. Ankur didn’t know how to react, maybe this was the treatment. Often he returned home in pain, and rushed to wash himself in the washroom.
It was Arjun who had always warned him about uncle Sharma. He helped him muster courage and say a loud NO to the ensuing torture. His uncle’s face was a mask betrayal and anguish when he did this. And all this happened when he was now only about to turn 17.
His brothers finally noticed his “weird” features. He was removed from the school cricket team, since the rest of the boys simply didn’t approve of his company. His own mother gave him a harsh thrashing one day when curious Ankur, under his confused state, wanted to experiment with her make-up and mascara one day finding himself alone in the house. Ankur never understood any of this. Why the hell did he feel a certain kind of attraction towards boys- he could never gauge and found himself embarrassed to feel this way? He didn’t remember a single night when he didn’t cry himself to sleep, wondering why he of all people should be conferred such a fate. The taste of the tears streaming down his face, where not just salty but bitter too.
On his 18 th birthday he decided that this could no longer continue. He had heard flying news that a high court in Bombay, had passed a historic decision regarding the rights of the Lesbian-Gay-Bisexual-Tansgender or the LGBT community. That night as he once again sat uncomfortably on the dinner table facing his family, he realized that his former home had become a house with sulking strangers who looked at him with disgust and embarrassment. He then decided to run away from all this, and bid adieu to save his selfish and unsympathetic family from having to face him again. He thought only then he would be free from their cold behavior and would be able to build up the world that was crumbling around him. Suddenly there was a ray of hope. Suddenly there was a reason to be happy.
He left his house and met some people of his own kind. They were all very sympathetic but had weird ways to earn money. He was taught the art to clap dramatically and ask for money, he tried once, tried twice and the third time he knew that this wasn’t his cup of tea. Next, he found himself being dragged into prostitution with promises of high monetary returns. He told the concerned pimp Premlata didi, who had grown to care for him, that he couldn’t do it and bid adieu to all the didis. These people, ostracized and outcast from society and forced into a life of shame, taught Ankur the importance of a safe shelter early in life and the importance of strength of character and will power. Each one had a sorrier story than the other. He tried applying for meager looking and less qualified jobs such as being a watchman or as an assistant in a local ration shop, but everywhere he met cold often dissolute eyes.
Arjun never left his side. Ankur had shifted in with him. Once they visited the nearby mall in an attempt to feel happy and live the little joys of daily life. As they reached the mall’s entrance the guard there stopped them with a stiff stick blocking their entrance. Arjun tried to reason out, said they were just going to roam around and buy few things. The guard said: “You can go but these people can’t (pointing to Ankur)”. But by now Ankur had learnt the art to speak up, so he said: “I am not going to ask for anything inside. Can’t I go?” After minutes of worthless tussle, they were both seated back in an auto heading to Ankur’s PG(flat). Arjun felt guilty for it was his idea. That night Ankur wrote a poem again, poetry was his refuge from the maddening outside world.
You ask me to leave my robe at the gate
the robe of “gayness” which is tied to my fate
you call me queer and put restriction
and all this just because of my different attraction?
That night it rained heavily and Ankur decided to have his favourite ice-cream in the rain outside. Licking his ice-cream happily he looked towards Arjun’s window and saw him looking tenderly at him through the transparent window. Arjun saw a figure on the street he had always wanted to see in his friend, free and careless despite being soaked with water and his pain alike. He went outside and held his friend’s quivering hand. The touch had something to it, and both of them equally felt it.
And so they became one
restrictions, they were none
A night of love, an era of bliss
like art on a tapestry, or a reliving kiss
Conjoined together like body to soul
parting in two and still seaming whole.
Look at the way love manifests itself
love condescending boundaries of the self
That night was the best Ankur had ever had. He felt complete as the moonlight made its way onto them through the window and they lay lost in each other’s gaze made more bright by the starlit sky. He felt positive about himself, maybe love was the solution to his problems. In this very moment he thanked God for his existence, his problems that made him and his solution that lie before him. He slept like a baby that day and after many days he didn’t have to cry himself to sleep.
The next day when he woke up, Arjun was still sleeping by his side. He rose to make some tea and picked up the newspaper. The early morning edition of “The Hindu” lay there shamelessly facing downwards. He picked it up and turned it to see the headline:
“Section 377 to stay, SC illegalizes the Gay”
After a night that had been as starry and as surreal as the movies, he heard his alter ego mock and say: “Welcome to the real world now!”.
They say every beginning has an end
this end, he could hardly comprehend
Was love really a solution?
in a land that’s marred by corruption
corruption not just in offices
but in peoples’ souls and premises
corrupt values & morals reflected through their eyes
and in actions that are hypocritical and cold as ice.
Hey pretty girl, you pretty little soul
Look at you, your ribbons are so pink
Don’t you cry for your shoes got dirty
Don’t you forget you are mum’s Barbie
Don’t you topple for the world left you alone
Stop, see and move at every turn
Wont you smile for me when I ask you to?
Your innocence is your charm, don’t you let it go
Open up your fists, there’s nothing inside
Have you learnt the art of smiling inside?
There’s chocolate smeared on your face
Oh! Did you learn to tie your shoelace?
Do you run after butterflies & catch them still?
Oh! Do your Jack and Jill still climb the hill?
Does mum still read you the bed time fable?
Don’t you forget you are dad’s angel.
Do you still wear & pose with mum’s big sweater?
Moreover do you still sleep with your books open?
Is the swing still your favourite place?
Is mum still you’re closest friend?
Do you still make that cute asking face?
Don’t worry dad will bring all problems to an end
And soon enough you’ll become a teen
and dad may forget gift number seventeen
Pimples and periods may bring you down
but pain is a teacher, don’t you frown
You would party, booze and run into the wild
but make sure you take your decisions without going blind
and wherever you maybe, know this:
You’re never too far from your guardian’s eyes
Drop your anchor and return to the port
You would find your parents guarding your fort
And yay baby! Don’t you cry for the world played dirty
You would always be dad’s angel and mum’s Barbie :)
Hey pretty girl, you pretty little soul !
Image(s) Credits : The Internet .
He felt like going on and on and she kept listening. It almost felt that it was a one way conversation going, but the girl’s eyes said something else. He went going on and on about the billboard that read “we now serve Soup” and how the owner of the restaurant must’ve put in his effort to realize his dream of selling soups. It was rather abstract or simple rubbish, you could say. But he kept on saying how the owner must’ve asked and pleaded men to put up the banner as high as possible in order to get maximum attention.
And yes she was still hearing him.
He paused for a second realizing that he had actually gone too far with his continuous nonsense over the head talks, and looked at her.
And all this while, she had heard attentively every bit he had said. When he stopped, she exhaled out, gave a smile and said the three words that meant most to him and in a way would last for more than a lifetime.
And in those vague moments, yes he was speechless, like he didn't know what to say. Should he really reply to that? He felt loved like that strand of her hair which kept coming in front of her eyes and was carefully caught by those fingers. He did want to say something, words were failing him.
Caught in the twirl
still living in this jiffy
love at times seems like a flute
melodious and sweet
and moments such as this
which were not asked for
but were given as a reward
the ubiquitous life form
that exists around you
and happens in moments
moments which you call co-incidences
and serendipity it maybe
but then that is what love is
a single moment
that may guide
The shy glances
and the soft replies
Of bickering tastes
and the flavor of cake
U wouldn't agree on
of times when you
agree to disagree
Expensive Platinum bands
could never take their place
Because the reward of
Love is Love itself
and mutual reasons
that remain unsaid
* * *
In a moment he was sure
of mornings that were to come,
of evenings that were to end
with her and only her.
And yes she already knew the answer.
P.S : A post on love after a long time. Sweet as it may seem, let me know if this reminded you of the person you love. I would be glad to serve that purpose. (: Cheers to love and life :)
The deepest desires and the innermost trenches
the unconscious which harms the conscious
and the flywheel that doesn’t fly
the look in the mirror which makes you wish you didn’t have
the dark times you hold inside
the instances you wished you could change
the looks you which you never had
the times you wish you hadn’t wasted
the dream that makes you feel weary
the radiance of failed virtues
and the boulevard of broken dreams
the story you wish you never had
the procrastination you wish you didn’t have
the journeys which turned wrong
and the decisions which were made with the bong
the crazy times you hold inside
the secrets you cherish by your side
the work you didn’t like
the pleated pants you wished you didn’t have to wear
the local train and the bus
the sweaty shirt and the tightening tie
the poem you wish you didn’t write
the clock you wished could run the other way
the things you wanted to have your way
and the people you harmed in the fray
Life is a journey my friend
I don’t know when I shall have my “The End”
till then I shall celebrate the mistakes I made
cherish the imperfection within
stay hungry till the dawn
and even in the blues
shall have my spirits
the raging bull and the firm pole star
the fire within and the dear desires
the path I didn’t walk
and the seas I dared to swim
shall now be unraveled
the amorphous which now has a dimension
the aspirations shall now walk the line
and the broken winged bird shall fly
and when I finally come to my end
I shall have arranged my stuff
I shall have lived
I shall have…yes
I shall have.
1. Made myself this blog/website. Well I initially took up this idea very reluctantly. The fear of not having readers to the fear of not being able to write to the fear of sucking at blogging, I had it all to stop me from starting this. But I guess whatever happens, happens for good. Got more than 1000+ hits on my website within a month and around 100 likes on my fb page within 72 hours. Cheers! that demands a treat. \m/
2. Studied N.O.T.H.I.N.G yup nothing at all. I know it may sound normal to you after all who studies in the vacations. But here take this I am a pre-final year Engineering Undergrad ready to sit for placements starting very soon, and as all my friends are busy making notes to preparing for interviews to scribbling those C++ questions at the back of the rough copy they completed this vacation with aptitude and LR questions, I am comfortably sitting here and writing this blog. “Wow” -A sarcastic Retard would say.
3. Yeah I got my sister married. Click here to see few pictures of the marriage. More than the pain of letting her go I underwent more pain in making all the arrangements from seeing the tent and décor to the cook team which demanded a Cigarette pack,patta khaini, and Lifebuoy soaps which they needed to wash you know what to the light man whom I troubled a lot after he spread out the LEDs in a bizarre way in the porch to the caterer uncle who was so kind and considerate and always called me “chhote sarkar” to the baraati people whose demands had to be met I had to face one and all. I was on the speed dial list of every one, and yes I mean every one. My younger cousin even called me “a one man army”. But then the pain was worth living. A small effort from the only brother to my sister.
4. I got my father’s Alto crashed. Yay you know that already if you read the “Let's Begin” Whaaaat ….?You didn’t read it? Just click now here. I always asked my dad before this incident(read one hell of an accident perpetrated by me and my friend Rattsy): “Papa how these insurance companies work? Whats their procedure? How do you get paid?” Well now after a month’s bhaaga-dowdi, hundreds of phone calls and thousands of documentation done between the Insurance company, ICICI bank, the Maruti repair centre and the Surveyor I am now sure I can write a book on “The Whaaats and Whyyyys of Insurance?” Ya and my dad is going to be my first customer.
5. I made a new, intelligent and nerdy friend on facebook. No explanation henceforth on this :P
6. I did a training in Tata Motors. although I am not interested in pursuing a hard-core job in electronics I found life at Tata Motors much easier and lavish. Ya they provide so many free perks to their engineers. From free (read very nominal charges cut from their payments) Electricity, Water and housing facilities round the clock in such a beautiful city established by the Tatas to the lavish payment to the almost no pressure jobs they need to do, life at Tata motors is kingly and well deserved for people who really work hard to get into it. Oh coming back to my training project, it was good. Ya plain and simple. Good.
7. I got two online content writing internships courtesy Internshala (Ya there is God in the skies above), the silver lining of my summer vacations’2013. It was indeed very helpful writing and earning at the same time. The people at ListDose and FinalNok, you rock but then don’t you think you all are very demanding from the interns. *Phew Ya now I am complaining*. I also registered myself with Campus Diaries, an amazing platform for young creative writers. Let me tell you the people at Campus diaries you people deserve a pat on your back. Clap for yourself and yeah do get me published in the next month’s issue. :P
8. The little time I did spend at my house peacefully (ya I mean the time I really got for myself after all the shopping and household work I had to do which my ma tells is essential to do to make me an independent, responsible and self sustainable guy :D) I spent it with my Dadi, the most lovable and inspirational character I have seen in this world. The mere simplicity and cheerfulness she radiates is incomparable. From being married and getting widowed at a very young age after my dadaji went to heavenly abode, she managed it all single-handedly. Listening to her talks and the moral stories stated from her lifetime one gets the feel that life is still very beautiful and meant to be lived cheerfully like this lady wearing a smile and the tulsi mala in her neck with a vaishnav tika on her forehead. I could write an entire article on her. Expect one very soon. The stories at times were repeated by her, but the lessons they were always new.
9. I have started talking less, and thinking and writing more or so my sister says. At times when we are sitting in the same room doing our stuff and she incidentally asks me something and I do a “hu-hu” thing(which means affirmative) and a minute later- “No, I meant absolutely No” :D she looks at me in horror and then says: “Where are you? Dancing around your bonfire?” No wait she didn’t say that but who clearly remembers, obviously I didn’t hear her. :P
10. Finally at the very end of this vacation I see a new horizon in the landscape of my thoughts and dreams. The new horizon which comprises of you my readers, to you people who honestly believe in my writings and for that very matter I owe you a sense of responsibility. I will write and you do keep reading. As for me- well hopefully I will be getting placed very soon and find my “purpose” on this stage called world. A friend of mine advised me to find purpose in my dreams, and I guess I will be doing exactly that once I return to college. Hast-la-vista people. Till next time Cheers to life. Keep calm and enjoy the Bonfire \m/
I am me…Yes I am me…And I don’t think before writing…it just comes to me…it makes me feel fuzzy…my hands start itching…my laptop and MS Word seem as my best friends at times… I know I may delete this after I have written it…but it doesn’t matter, I need concentration while writing…I cant afford the tv to blurt out things at vol.15 or above while I am writing, yay seriously I cant…I type furiously in order to let the words flow…let them move, let them take control…the feel of typing on my keyboard and creating something is unparallel…I love writing and will now take a pause…Did you like it?... I surely did… I feel a lot lighter now…Mum’s made Dosa… Wuhuu :)
P.S. : Make yourself a list too. Its always fun making lists-Trust me.
Because life like a Dosa needs to be big, spread out, fluffy/crispy and most importantly having that surprising delicious "masala" inside it :)
One of these days, I would smile at you
and you wouldn’t hesitate to return it back
One of these days, I will be one step ahead the crowd
and you would be with me holding hands, shouting aloud
One of these days, maybe I won’t criticize the society
and you and I would win our rights above the mighty
One of these days, the urge to do facebook shall be gone
and you would tell your children how you met their mom
One of these days, we would find purpose in our dreams
and you and I would be the kings and queens of our realms
One of these days, jesus and allah shall have a treaty
and we mortal beings shall understand the single entity
One of these days, taboos shall enter our History books
and we shall let ourselves breathe and be removed from the hooks
One of these days, we shall learn to love
and not just the opposite sex but something above
One of these days, life shall make sense
and you would realize it was during that nonsense
that life made complete sense
One of these days, you could be the next Adele, Dhoni or Gates
and I shall be happy seeing you there as you reach your fate
One of these days, I shall be satisfied and won’t feel the urge to rhyme
and you would remember this time as the sweet wind chime
One of these days, our days shall come to an end
and “Life” will show a rewind-the promises made
the laughter shared, the memories compiled
the opportunities one had and the choices we made
One of these days, I would smile at you
and you wouldn’t hesitate to return it back
One of these days, One of these days . . .
P.S : I made you a slideshow. Do see it :)
U said “Don’t fall in love with me, I can’t afford it”
I promised you I wouldn't, although I could afford it
Once amidst revising history
U caught me staring lovingly
U bit your lips and warned me again
I crossed my heart and promised again
Once during boating
When our arms gently kissed
I knew the feeling, as love just hissed
U shrugged your arms and said- “Sorry”
I shrugged my promises and said- “Sorry”
And once when u saw me kissing
In the blue Cadillac, with a girl ravishing
U didn't walk with me home that day
I knew something wasn't going that okay
And then when I saw u walking alone
On the country roads that were forlorn
Ur baggy sweater and ur spectacled eyes
I offered u lift, beneath the October skies
And then when we talked and just not spoke
I saw u had dreams of different strokes
I felt like staring those luscious dark eyes
It felt good like Snickers and fireflies
U told me once u didn’t like my flings
I told u twice they were just plucked strings
U said your nights went seeing the stars
I made you a telescope with lenses and bars
U asked me to sing once with my guitar
I started with the right chords but ended afar
U said u were spellbound with my affections
I wanted to kiss your mouthful of questions
Just during the climax, u remembered your promises
But me, I was already swept into love’s nemesis
And then one day your father called up
Said he needed to speak, petrified I felt like a pup
That day I don’t know why
Expecting something I took out my tie
Got ready in the tuxedo I had
Bought some fresh lilies which made me glad
Outside it was raining, but inside I was blooming
My unchained melodies, were busy singing
Finally drenched I reached your door
Made some noise on your wooden floor
Inside you were lying on your bed
“Be with her”- your father said
I sat by your bed side, the bloom within me was gone
As I saw your pale face, a dreadful feel was born
Like the evening which gets shrouded during the night
Like the shooting star which ends in a trailing plight
“Leukemia, it is” You said bravely
I clutched your arms more firmly
Astounding silence and the rain showered brilliance
U said: Make love to me while its still raining
For I may not live to see the rainbow when its stopped raining
I said: I shall love u while your hearts beating
And then cherish it within me when its stopped beating
The lilies lay scattered lifelessly
As if they didn’t deserve this misery
The telescope peeped outside
As if seeking a different reality
The baggy sweater cried in her dreams
Those spectacles there watched grimly
Rugged bed sheets and a white shroud
Enough to make our love proud
The Cadillac now stands lonely
The country roads stay solitary
U and I won’t stay forever
But the unchained melodies of Love shall…
There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but I have the feeling that if I did, the joy would be gone as well.
Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
“So Mr. Lennon what is it about you, that separates you from the ordinary?”
“Well Mr. Franz I could make you a list of things right from my fingerprints to the way I do my laundry, but this time I would like to answer with two words and that is : “My Dreams”
“Yeah I know, you’re the famous “Dreamer” as they call it.”
“Yeah you got that right”
“So tell me what a typical day is for you? What you wake up in the morning, start dreaming, then have your meals started dreaming all over again and then at night after supper you dream and make your bed and then again get lulled in the arms of your dreams?”
“I would be lucky enough if I had such a frequency. Generally dreams knock at my consciousness anytime of the day, they don’t follow a schedule.”
“Please enlighten me Mr. Lennon. I really want to know about this, knowing about dreams from the great “Dreamer” himself.”
“Well generally they come to me while I am bathing as I turn the shower knob or then when I am mowing my lawn. I even had a dream of a soul arising from the graveyard when I was attending a funeral.”
“A funeral…hmm. Well in the words of Carlin I would say:
Some people see things that are and ask, Why?
Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not?
Some people have to go to work and don't have time for all that.”
“That’s what separates us I told you.”
“Don’t get me wrong but dreams are for kids and destitute who hope to make it big someday. Can you really make a living out of your dreams? I really don’t believe in dreams. All that matters is you and your purpose in life”
“Then I guess you have a much distorted definition of dreams in your mind, sir. I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?”
“And so preaches the great Dreamer?”
“I am not a preacher of my dreams. I am a follower of them. You say dreams don’t exist because they aren’t made of matter and particles, but I say they exist because they are made of thoughts, puns, viewpoints, images and lost hope”
“I wont believe it until I feel it”
“So you don’t believe in my dreams?”
“Who am I to comment on “Your” dreams? You’re a respectable man with your own belief system. I won’t interfere”
“Ok I will tell you a short incident of a dreamer and his life.”
“I am all ears Mr. Lennon”
“So there was this Doctor who was a dreamer. A very passionate husband and a great practitioner of Medical Sciences. He lived happily with his wife until one day his wife was diagnosed with Leukemia. He couldn’t save her since she was in the very last stage of Blood Cancer. She cried to her each day and each night to save her from this pain. She wanted him to kill her once and for all. But the doctor just couldn’t, until one night when he stabbed his wife on the head and made an outlet for the soul to escape. It’s believed a person’s soul only escapes when stabbed on the head. So he did it and was charged with murder. He silently surrendered himself and spent his consequent nights in the jail. Every night it was said he shouted out strange names and violently stabbed these people’s lookalikes made out of buns of clothes. The names incidentally matched with suicide cases registered in a nearby hospital. All cases belonged to such people who were terminally ill. It was said crying souls visited the doctor in his dreams and he granted them the wish of death.”
“Weird dreamer. One hell of a psychotic dreamer, I would say. Do you really believe in this?”
“Who am I to comment on “His” dreams? He is a respectable man with his own belief system. I won’t interfere”
“So let’s be done with this doctor’s story. Let’s get back where we left. You were speaking about some funeral and a soul escaping. Tell me about it.”
“Well Mr. Franz It was my funeral I attended. I saw my soul escaping.”
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaa………..?? Stop kidding me. Here I touched you. I can touch you. You’re not a ghost.”
“Well Mr. Franz I would then say- You’re one hell of a psychotic dreamer. Have a Good Night.”
-Mr. Franz woke up rubbing his eyes. The clock by his bed showed 3 a.m.
P.S. : Does this post make (non)sense to you? :P Are you a dreamer too? Then tell me your dreams.
P.P.S : This story was first published in Campus Diaries by me here http://campusdiaries.com/stories/the-dreamer-0 and the wonderful story of doctor was adapted from here http://campusdiaries.com/stories/behavior !
“I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours” - Bob Dylan
*image credits: Google search Engine.