Sitting on the chair, I tried to concentrate;
as the light from the lamp made the room illuminate.
Books were scattered, papers were spread over the desk,
but they were of no use as they gave me no rest.
I looked around and saw no more,
my vision was hindered and impaired, it could hardly reach the shore.
I looked down and the murmurs began,
“Are you crazy?”, “Don’t spoil your future”,
“Our family is not meant for such chores”.
Every time we went to someone’s house,
false considerations and surfaced opinions showered me around,
telling me my passion was good for nothing,
it was not gonna get me a stable job or settle me in.
Murmurs stopped as daddy came, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I know you are gonna make me proud. I am waiting for that day”
I highly doubted if I could fulfill his dreams
’cause they were not my dreams and I was no prodigy.
So, I just nodded my head and kept mum.
He ruffled my hair and left, making me numb.
Finally I killed myself to fulfill other’s dreams
’cause life was too rough and I had no strength to deal.
I was naive and scared of the upcoming.
I was just a child afraid to be lonely.
So I did what cowards do, I gave up on my dream.
Not realising how much it meant to me.
Fast forward, I was there.
Daddy bid adieu but I was nowhere.
I entered the doors of the unknown realm,
beaten and pushed by hundreds for that chance.
Daddy called me everyday, asked me how I was.
“I am fine”, I used to say the same old line.
‘Fine’ was my mask in the masquerade,
like everyone else, the lost and the lonely.
Down the line, the truth was witnessed.
Everybody was the same, dilapidated and drenched.
Each one of us, had a dream, somehow not fulfilled.
This rose the phoenix again.
I might have given up, but the dream didn’t give up on me.
I started on my writing again, the flames burnt brighter this time.
Two years later, here I am, telling a story of dreams;
to do what I love, to make myself content and happy.