Saturday, October 14, 2006


They say to me in their awakening, “You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea.” And in my dream I say to them: “I am the infinite sea, and all words are but grains of sand upon my shore.”
Khalil Gibran – one of the greatest philosopher-poets of the 20th century

I am a complete romantic. Mercurial. Caring. Protective. Buddy. There is an ancient cadence deep down me that prods me to feel a special bond with my loved ones. Basically a very small charmed circle, it contains my small family and friends. When it comes to life’s tough trials, I wish to protect myself not by some fence, but rather by my friends. Always a kid at heart, I still dream about Jack and his beanstalk. I do not want to shatter some sweet myths. We may evolve and grow up; we may go places but our memories must always remain ensconced in cartoons and lots of cornflakes. That’s how I feel. In life’s superfluous baggage, I keep a corner for some innocent dreams. Yet I know life is never easy for those who dream.

I have a recurring dream and I often see the love of my listless life in those tiny dreams. From a distance, I can see drop-dead beautiful eyes. They tease me on solitary nights. I wake up suddenly from my slumber and find them gaze intently at me. However hard, I try to sleep, I cannot. The images have haunted me since childhood. However, I could see them clearly, only about a year back. In blood and flesh. Smiling. Innocent. Truthful. Daring. Elegant. It appears for real. It is not an apparition, I can vouch.

Ironically my delicate dream does not come to me on clear, sunny days especially when I am alone and I so need it. It even skips me on romantic evenings. It makes me tarry and tarry. Yet it walks upto me in the middle of the night. Unexpectedly. On a starlit night, when there is sound of water gushing in transparent brooks and fish plop. It swaddles me in its entirety. It drinks my scents. And leaves me completely perfumed. I don’t want to let it go, I swear. Not at my life.

Like the tender shard of a broken dream, I sizzle. When I am alone and have no one around, I wish the dream appears to me. With friends and family taken-in with the day-to-day rigmarole of life, whom do I turn to in my most private, passionate moments? Amidst all the lovelessness and the sparkle around our fast-paced, artificial lives, I look for my friend – the sacred dream.

It is a picayune present I’ve given myself. It is distant, yet so close to me. It caresses me, as I shut my eyes. It is a dream – true -- yet it is mine.



Harpreet, Mumbai said...

One can only exclaim and say, wow, this guy sure is talented.

Great piece of writing.

Terry G. Lindon, MA said...

Havnen't come across such beautiful expression in a long time.


Nick, 31, UK said...

I have bookmarked you. This is easily one of the most lucid pieces of writing I have come across in the last few months. True, our dreams give us a chance to see life in its true splendor.

I think you must write more often and compile your thoughts.

Gauri, New Delhi said...

Attention plz: I just read another smart article from you and I think I must stop doing Page-3. hehe

Great writing. Shall I recommend your blog to my HT-city editor?

Arman, 25, New Delhi said...

Ahoy -- I understand write can spin magic but tell you the truth, you do write fine. Do us all a favour -- become a full time writer.

You're one in the making.


Anjali said...



Joyita, Cal, WEST BENGAL said...

I don't agree with your romactic idealism but I love yor distinct stylish comand over the language.


Paul, Bournemouth, United Kingdom said...

I love your themes, poems, ideas. Though I don't drop comments very often, I think this one deserves one.

One of those write-ups, you wish goes on and on. Addictive.