Dreams and more

by ashwinia

I sit here this morning with a lot on my mind and Chocos in my bowl. I, for some reason, am dissecting and assessing my 22 years on this soil. I’m scrutinizing the days that I hurried my life across and the ones when I lazed and lingered through at a pace slower than you’d imagine. My life did have its big events, no doubt. I treasure my big events and recollect them often:

  • I remember galloping on my school’s stage dressed in a magenta ghaghra-type attire and a tricolored pair of sandals. I was Rani Lakshmi Bai and the gallop came from an imaginary horse I was riding. It was 1857 perhaps, or earlier; I was just introducing myself.
  • On a later day, when I was smaller than the shoe rack at the corner of my room, I was awarded a crayon set for winning a painting contest I don’t remember going to. I was proud. I thought I could become a known artist someday. I walked to the dais in front of the whole school that was, I think, on its toes looking around for the winner; I was just too tiny. I remember feeling so proud and big.
  • I traveled to the USA when I was thirteen (I looked 9 ) I went to Vegas too, as useless as that may have been. I had to stay close to the walls while dad awaited a lucky second at the casino. I wasn’t 21 or getting there. This was the best summer of my life.
  • I got a job, one that I never dreamed of, one that I did not even care to dream of, it was too high up there and beyond my reach. I couldn’t have got there had I jumped up, or leapt. Intuition tells me it could have been something supernatural that day. Perhaps my horoscope prophesized it and ordered the stars to position themselves in a way that gave the man no option than to hire me. Or let’s just say I couldn’t quite believe I had landed a job at Microsoft.
  • I bought a domain for my blog. I pampered it and worked harder than I have on anything else, on this.
  • And some other things that aren’t big enough for me to remember the, pick them up and stack them here.

What worries me is that big here, is a word that’s more subjective than the word following it, events.

Source: Google

Source: Google

There is the 16 year old that’s standing up for women’s education against a group of people I’d be scared to reprimand on my blog– the Taliban. If a bullet in the head wasn’t a good enough deterrent, how brave she must be! There are twenty year olds playing international cricket. And many others doing a thousand other things. And I here think my biggest achievement is the job I managed to get got and this site (which, technically, I bought. So doesn’t even qualify). Is all of this – my today – supposed to be indicative of another day two decades later?

I wonder sometimes, if the magnates at biggest businesses and other men in power knew they’d get there, right from the beginning. Was it their sole purpose in life? Did they slog it out having the outcome in mind? Did they work as hard as people tell me I should? Or were they living a conventional life and things just happened? Do they now feel ‘I finally got here’  or ‘How did I even get here?’?Honestly I’m just wondering if such things’d happen to me. I have some dreams tucked away, I won’t tell you where.

A friend of mine, one I’ve always held in high regard, always manages to do something that I don’t believe too many people can – he talks about things casually in a very down-to-earth, matter-of-fact way with no intention of anything beyond, but manages to make me listen ardently, something that happens infrequently, and he inadvertently inspires me to a magnitude to describe which any words I use will certainly belittle it. Once, he described to me the proudest and best moment of his life. It was when he asked Sachin, whom he got a chance to meet as a consequence of being a state-level cricketer, if he could hold his bat. And

he held it. The emotion that the guy and his words emanated streamlined its way across and hit my eyes causing them to want to fill. He told me about his dreams and I listened, wishing he’d get to live them. He deserved that for the passion in his desire if not for anything else. Every time, following my conversation with him, dreams I’ve hidden between the folds of my brain surface, like a reminder. I then go into a reverie, one where I am older and being that, just that woman I desire to be, doing all that I aspire to do.

Lately, I‘ve been doing this often, the dreaming that is. A dream that’s slightly more ambitious each time. The belief that someday I may not have to dream to see me there, stimulates me, keeps me inspired and going.

P.S : It’s a wonderful morning here in Hyderabad. I’m hoping that my bay in office is deserted and I can get home early.