Broken Dreams........

I was skimming through the pages of the new edition of India Today yesterday as I had nothing in my bookshelf which could have comforted me after the erratic schedule of the day which kept me on my toes( I ll tell the story some other day). The issue was concentrating on all the major events which affected our country and its people in past 30 years. I am not fond of reading magazines; I only buy them to feel envious enough of the svelte and slim models. I carry this notion that this activity may trigger my will to shed that extra flab which is currently giving me nightmares.




Suddenly I found my eyes glued to the page featuring the happenings of the year 1994. A wave of nostalgia pushed me back into the past lanes where I was just a nymph coming out of the cocoon to fall into the lines of a caterpillar. Colourful and vibrant wings were out of sight and unimaginable. The page featured glimpses of Aishwarya Rai and Sushmita Sen flashing those rehearsed smiles with gleaming diamonds on their heads. It stirred the pieces of bitter sweet memories lying in some remote corner of my heart.

I can never forget that day when I first fought the rage inside me. I was about 3 at that time, rowdy cranky and naughty. My mother still cribs about the sleepless night I used to give her. It was a sunny bright morning I woke up to. I hated to get up in the morning (I still do). I was still grappling with partially open eyes when the newspaper lying over the petite corner beside my cosy bed caught my attention. The front page was carrying the news of Sushmita Sen wining the miss universe title, becoming the first Indian woman to carve that niche. I couldn’t read at that time; no 3 year old can do so. But I instantly got attracted to those pictures like a magnet to an iron bar. Later that day I quietly sneaked into my mother’s bedroom and spent hours scrutinising every inch of my face in front of the mirror. I even wore my mothers mauve stilettos to walk like those poised and beautiful girls do on TV. Somewhere inside the seed of the dream of holding that crown with hands on mouth awe pose was sown inside me.



Today I when I look back I have to admit that the seed sown could not grow into a tree because of the genetic seeds I m carrying (you ll understand only if u have studied biology). I am currently all content with the pace and directions of my life. But shards of a broken dream sometimes make me go all shrivelled up inside like a nut. Yesterday when I told my mother about my long lost dream, she said,” there are few things which appeal to us only from a distance. Nothing can be compared to the moon and the milky twilight it illuminates but if you try to go near it, all the beauty and the charm seem like false fables. It sounded good to my ears but couldn’t reach out to my heart which still refuses to junk off those pieces.