Dreams!

There was a time when I felt comfortable sitting among my dreams, walking alongside them. They were all around me, they were all for me…I followed them, they followed me. But now those dreams have turned to be like the winter in Kolkata… I know it’s there, somewhere, in the time space but not confident enough to tap them.

They are wonders… we close our eyes only to see them… open our eyes to realize them. For me, I still dream of the upcoming day(s). I can see them jutting out of the piles of books and copies that surround me these days. For my grandmother (as she used to narrate to me in her last days) dream was only about the reminiscence of her long lost childhood & desher bari. She used to tell me how she had grown up with all plays and joys [as if there was no tomorrow], how she had fished all that little happiness from the utmost trivial things like climbing trees, making bhepu out of dried mango seeds, swimming like fanatics, wild jungle explorations etc…and many a these within that small span of her pre-marriage childhood. I was fascinated at these stories and thinking how she must have looked like when she did all these in her lunacy, made me astonished, happy, mystified but envious as well. I knew my stories won’t be the same, won’t be anywhere near to her’s and would never stir up such awe in my grandchildren… (If I ever have any). So I used to brush off all my morbid thoughts at the stories and banish them with the endorsement that my toiling with the books would someday bring me luck to savour a time much much more embellished with Life and Life like feelings.

Well, I still don’t know what this dream actually is and why is this dream thing there at all? Does it actually motivate or baffle us? Does it actually cheer up or hold us back? Does it promise to make our life better or mocks at our failure? Whatever it is… all that I know is, it resides in that tremor in the voice of my grandmother when she pictured her days in words and on the rheumy eyes of her [I saw once, just for once].