“Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face
And stars fill my dream
I’m a traveller of both time and space
To be where I have been…”
With Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir “playing on a full volume, I don’t remember for how long I was staring at blackened blades of ceiling fan in my room. What I remember is WhatsApp pings that jolted me up.6 messages from “Tee3”.
Pushing my headset aside, I tried iopening the messages and replying back, but touch screen of my phone has started behaving like my plans. Completely hung! No matter how hard I try to get it to work, I will end up doing factory reset every time.
This entire struggle to get my phone to work gets me nothing but frustration. We have grown up thinking that all struggles get rewarded in the end and that all our mistakes make sense in the end. But for my 25 years of life I have tried to connect dots and make sense out of it. I fail at answering all “WHYs” of life. The few I answer ambiguously does not help in cracking that code I keep looking for.
Another ping from TEE3 and I am back from the world of daydreaming. In fact, I have daydreamt quarter of my life if not a half, dreaming about all the massive things ranging from- Living alone on some Earth-like planet in a different galaxy altogether to Watching Aurora Borealis in Iceland.
Dreams are not rational all the time, sometimes they are incoherent and silly .Sometimes I will see myself rocking the hell out of audience singing a hit song from 90z (Live stage performance ,oh yeah) and sometimes I am walking a blooming saffron field of Kashmir with love of my life, hand in hand . It is Non-sense but dreams are intoxicating.
Another ping but this time from “Rafia Kashmir”, and I am back to physical world .I got up from my bed and headed straight to kitchen which I don’t use much. I am not into cooking and I am too lazy (and tired) after work to cook for myself. So most of the evenings you will see me munching on Veg Thali at KP restaurant (at least he gives me one complementary Rasgulla).
My kitchen though, smells heaven; it smells like Coffee all the time because that is only activity I do in there, brewing coffee for myself – morning, evening, night and Sundays!
Finally, my phone came back to life with my touch (at least something does), well the message from “Rafia Kashmir “was a long text.
A gold medallist MTech holder is sitting idle and doesn’t know how to go on further with scarcity of jobs in Kashmir. You can imagine her frustration; I felt worse reading her text. Even the coffee aroma felt bitter against her emotions.
Holding on to hot cup of coffee I just prepared, I kept scrolling down the screen to read unread messages. I am adapted to now using phone with everything else I do like everyone else on this planet (evolutionary adaptation, you see!).
Leaving Darwin alone with his monkeys for now. I could relate more to Rafia Kashmir, i won fellowship to study in Europe but i didn’t go because of wrong and right reasons, i could relate to TEE3, whose certain business plan is hung in the smoke of tear gas in Kashmir .I could relate to “Faiz IIT” who is fighting his own genius brain. I could relate to every person who has dreams. A broken house or broken heart never stopped a dreamer, because dreaming is intoxicating.
Before i can drift to yet another deeper level of dreaming (dream within a dream as Christopher Nolan movie would describe it), my phone played the ringtone which I haven’t changed since I got this phone.
It was my mother. She would forget taking her daily meals but won’t forget calling me. She must be wondering what is making my daughter stay away from her, for last 9 years. I know my achievements are ordinary and I am seeking fortune far from the comforts of home. Trust me I am bewildered myself by each mile I have travelled in AC Bus, NON AC Bus, Plane or train, each meal I have eaten at local Dhaba or McDonald’s, each person I have met, each Paying guest rooms in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, I will not stop dreaming beyond my imagination because dreaming my friend is intoxicating.