I read a story today written by a fellow blogger/writer. It was anonymous so I don’t know who wrote it. To put it loosely, it was a story about a girl whose dream is shattered. She is contemplating the whys and hows of what happened to her. It was a simple story but the gravity of it was that it had a universal theme – the breaking of a dream. I believe that someday all of us will see a dream break, if we have not already. (Even if we have, already) That kind of heartbreak happens all around us. People pin hopes and wishes, and sometimes they don’t come true. At times, the pain is little and at others it’s unbearable. Either way, dreams break, and it hurts. It’s inevitable.
I read this story as my boat ride on the backwaters was about to end. (I could access the Internet again. And I had saved up on reading the story because the writing was just remarkable.) Ironic as it was that I read of the breaking of a dream, just when mine was fulfilled. The backwaters of Kerala have been on my want-to-visit list since I-don’t-know-when, and I am glad I have ticked it off. I don’t mean to cliché the experience, but it was serene. It was every bit as magical as I expected it to be. It was every bit as calming as I had anticipated. As I floated on the water and my mother held a conversation with the boatman in her broken English, I was reminded of what people do to survive. Charles Darwin was a genius. He articulated was most of us could only guess. This world is about survival of the fittest. And I believe that survival is the basic of all our instincts. Like my very own mother, she needs to talk to survive and she did talk in English, which was comical and made me feel proud, both at the same time.
What do I do to survive? I used to knit dreams. Now? I’m not so sure. When I was young, I was super awesome, really. I admire my younger self and I wish I could meet her someday. As a child, I knew what my life looked like. What I needed to make it work. What kind of people I rejected/would not mix with. When my dreams would come true and how I would make them alive. The plan worked pretty well up until a point. Now that I’ve had my quarter-life crisis, I marvel at my stupidity, at the naivety of my faith and world view, and the kind of shit I put up with. I amaze myself. *note the sarcasm*
Therefore, in this moment as I recount today on my phone, I wish for greater courage and that I can continue checking off my must-visit list and my dream-list. I wish for hope beyond hope, and the compassion to treat myself with love before I do anyone else. I wish for the wisdom to know what to hold on to and what to let go. And thus, I wish for the strength to let go, and not regret because I gave it everything I had. I wish that my eyes twinkle again and when I smile I light up my life, before I do for anyone else. I wish that I can practice tolerance of and the faith in the universe so that when my eyes are wet I can still go on knowing that there is a greater plan. I wish for myself all those dreams that I saw and the serenity to accept how they come true, and if they don’t, I wish for the spirit that I can dream again.
After all, I’m in God’s own country. I might as well.
P.S.: I bought a mound of chips! Mumbai, I can’t wait to shower you with gifts. 🙂
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