Lost dreams

I want to become a doctor.

I want to become a teacher.

I want to become a pilot.

I want to become an astronaut.

I want to become Sachin Tendulkar.

I want to become a truck driver.

The most common answers to the question, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’

A very famous-THE-most-important question asked to kids and these are their answers. In these answers lie their dreams, their aspirations and adult’s humor. The question has become too cliché and the answers have become even more cliché that no one pays any heed to them anymore. “Hah! He’s saying this now, wait for 4 years, he’ll change his mind.” The first thing that a kid’s ears catch is that statement after they have revealed their dreams. It’s just another statement to us, but for them, it’s the first push towards a road much travelled, a road that leads them to a point where they start believing that these dreams might just not come true. First thought of failure is thus incepted in their mind.

While many in-a-subtle-yet-ignorant-way demoralize their kids, some encourage theirs to dream. And dream big. But what they fail to tell their kids is that few years down the line their lives will be much more than just trying to fulfill their dreams. Males will have to take up the responsibility of the house and females will have to take up the daily chores. And both will have to study their asses off and score good, because hey, you cannot achieve your dreams unless you score good. The sound of that line is drilled into their tiny heads from the start.

Years go by and so does the question about what they’d want to become. Life gets so busy that you never think about the answer, mostly because you are never asked that question again. You are not 8 anymore, means you are in the rat race. Who cares about what you had wanted to become 4 years back? Do you?

Managing studies, home, chores, our entertainment, playing, sitting with parents, getting proper sleep, etc and the list goes on. Years go by and the list keeps on increasing. And before you know it, you are graduating with a degree you never knew of when you were young. Odds are, it’s not even in the direction of your childhood dream. But you keep going. You’re in the rat race, whether you like it or not.

Eventually, you will get a job. You’ll work. You’ll marry and have kids. Grow old and one day while sitting on the porch, waiting for your death to take over, you will decide to look back on your life (Well, apparently I have heard that old people kinda knows when their death is around the corner).

For one moment, you’ll think what was it you had dreamt of doing when you were a kid? Alas, it’ll be harder to remember than you thought it’d be.

It’s a scary place to be. So stop. And think.

What was it that you wanted to become when you grow up?

You have grown up. Now is the time to chase after your dreams. Now is the time when you should remember your dreams, and if you cannot remember then make new dreams. Because if you don’t, one day you’ll find yourself sitting with your laptop, thinking about what your dreams were and almost dying inside after realising you don’t remember your dreams.

That very moment, you’ll be lost. Lost in a way that can never be explained. Being lost is a feeling that can only be felt and then understood. Let’s hope by the time you realise you are lost, it isn’t too late.

                            

                              

The Banyan Tree

Everyday, every few hours, I heard a new story – a story of love, sorrow, deception, hatred, life, marriage, divorce, lust, etc. Mostly, they were the sad ones, by people who had the violent urge to narrate their stories, their feelings, and their expectations. It gave me immense happiness, to know I was offering to them more than I had to offer. They took shelter in me, in my silence to utter their own words.

Their stories shouted, with grave silence, narrations of the sufferings they had gone through. Their tears washed away with them the pain their little heart beheld. And I heard with patience.

They would sit down in front of me, peacefully and carry on with their work – eating, resting, and other petty things to do and narrate their tales. They touched the roots of my heart, their tales.

Sad ones were many, mostly rather. People loved to grieve, I used to wonder. Until, one day, I heard a tale of a young girl. She told the story with such innocence that I doubt she understood the immensity of love her story possessed.

She came towards me, walking with slow steps, looking at the ground and sat beside me. After being quiet and playing with the mud for sometime, she broke the silence. She said, “But why? Why should father do that? Maybe I shouldn’t complain so much. He has too much to do and worry about already. Hmm. Oh, I can ask big brother to get it for me. But only father can provide the money. But it’s sad. I want it. It was so beautiful and everyone in class will have it soon. I want it before they do. But again, father stays so tense all the time. He scolds me too, for no reason sometimes. You know Bannu, I cry in nights because father shouts at me. He even hits me at times. But I know he does that only because he’s upset and my acts hurt him more. He stays worried; the frown lines are always visible on his forehead. He has a lot of work to do and a lot many things to take care of. I am also a kid though, I too get hurt. Its okay, I guess. I know father loves me the most, more than big brother too.”

She started playing with her hair.

After few minutes, she continued again, “or, I can ask Reena aunt to give me some work and in return, I’ll ask her to buy that beautiful Barbie doll to me. That way, papa won’t have to spend a lot of money on me and he wouldn’t have to worry. He works so hard and if I get the Barbie myself, he’ll be happy. And in the next grade, 5^th , I’ll have the best one with me.”

She got up, smiled cheerfully and hugged me. And went back happily jumping on her toes.

The purity in her eyes and her love for her father, made me realize that in this world of sorrows where people only like to share their pain, there are innocent ones like her who unknowingly spread happiness around.

Who am I? I am Bannu, the Banyan Tree.

Sadistic Pleasure

Katie was confused, hell confused about her life. Love life, to be precise. She had been single for long and now she wanted, rather didn’t mind getting into a relationship so her emotions had been taking a toll on her lately.

She already had a guy in her life, whom she thought she liked. She was sure that she didn’t love him but she knew that she did have feelings for him because she hadn’t done things close to what all she did for that guy, to keep him happy. But she wasn’t sure of him for he was the “popular” one, the one who very well knew how to play his cards right with girls. She wanted him to take time to get to know her, get to understand her and vice versa but things seemed to be going from bad to worse. She wasn’t accepting the fact that the guy wasn’t right for her but deep down, she knew he wasn’t.  She knew the consequences she would have to face but still she kept going on.

When she thought about it, she realized that she was now in a habit to learn things the hard way. She found some sadistic pleasure in what all she was putting herself through. She knew if she fell real bad, she’ll get up but with new spirits and will never fall with the same mistake again. But for that to happen, she wanted to make sure that the mistake had to be big and cruel before it made her fall.

So having an absurd way to make herself strong, she was putting herself through the unnecessary pain and troubles. What she could never understand was why she was doing all this? She knew, in a way, that she was only making things difficult for herself and that she was just hurting herself even more but she chose to stick to it. Her past made her certain that she needed to make herself strong beyond any possibility of getting hurt from anyone and regarding anything. She would talk to the guy who would hurt her again and again, act like she was happy, would pamper him even when she felt the urge to tell him to leave her alone but she would just continue.

She would indifferently ignore the guy who would treat her right, merely because she couldn’t get herself to believe that someone would actually like her and would want to make her happy. She had fallen way many a times to give herself any importance in anyone’s life.

She was so used to not being pampered, not being taken care of that now she hardly cared if anyone did. And if anyone did do it, she would think it’s just for a matter of time because eventually they would stop. She felt the care and love was transient.

Not quite understanding why she expected way too much out of anybody, the thing which kept pushing her was the fact that she knew no one would ever be able to reach up to those high standards and so she only blamed herself and no one else for setting such high standards. But eventually, she was making it difficult for others to reach her.

She was confused, anguished, insecure, scared and messed up.

Well, so am ii !

Why would anyone, despite knowing the outcomes, would do this to themselves? If someone was unintentionally hurting themselves, it’s still understandable. But what Katie was doing to herself, is just plain confusing and weird.

Am insanely obscure about the necessity to do this to ourselves when we have a beautiful life, comprising of loving friends and family. If you have any possible answer or explanation as to why Katie does that to herself, feel free to suggest.

They parted, only, to never meet again.

Her phone rang. “I’ll be there in 10”, said the guy from the other side of the line. She kept the phone down, smiled to herself and started staring at the clock. Every second seemed like an hour for her. She felt like she was gonna meet him for the first time. A new HIM. A new HER. It was over the phone only, a few weeks back, when he said he loved her. It came as a surprise to her because she had never felt for him that way. He was just a friend to her, a good one. But she had taken it well. She had been told by people who knew her well that they were perfect for each other. They were “made for each other” material but she always took it as a joke until ofcourse he confessed. Surprisingly she didn’t think much of it, like how she’ll react, how she’ll behave around him et al. She was simply going with the flow. But she was glad to know that there was someone for her now, someone she knew she could count on whenever needed, someone who’ll not only cry for her but would cry with her. Having the secured feelings, she was on cloud nine. She was meeting him for the first time, after he had confessed.

 She recalled all texts that had been in her inbox, saying crap like ‘yew do this, so yew love him. Yew do that, so he loves yew’ which she had overlooked, now, made her smile. She remembered the times when they laughed together, cried together, fought with each other, tried to make up, times when they were happy. All the moments jogged in her mind, chasing each other playfully. She had lost track of time. And then, the doorbell rang. She ran towards the door and while unlocking it, her nostrils got filled with the cologne he wore. She loved his cologne, she realised. Letting him in, she got a little uncomfortable. Usually when a friend came over to her place, her roommate was around. But today, when she thought having her in the house would have helped, she was there, standing awkwardly in front of him.


After realising that an eerie silence had occupied the room, he started talking. Although she felt he sang to her. The way he spoke had changed, or maybe how she listened had. She was unsure of what was happening but she relished listening to him. They talked for next two hours, about every random thing like they always did. And when it was time for him to leave, she walked him to the door. Before heading out, he did the most unexpected thing. He took her in his arms, closed in on the distance between them and placed his lips gently on hers. Before she could react, he retreated his lips and smiled at her with his hands still around her waist. It was quick, but was gentle. She felt safe in his arms, safe like never before. Without taking another second, she kissed him. And this time, they kissed. A kiss full of love and passion. They stopped and he whispered ‘I love yew’ in her ears. She felt like the world bowed to her. In his words, she found herself. But she couldn’t get herself to say anything. She needed some time to take in whatever had happened. So she simply smiled and then they parted.


Only to never meet again.


At mid-night, she called him. After they had shared a few greetings, she was about to tell him for what she had called, to tell him she loved him too, but before she could say anything, he interrupted her. His tone became serious and she bit her lip realising what was about to come might just not be the best thing for her to listen. And correct she was. The next second, her chest burned, her heart ached, and she was out of breath. She disconnected the line, forcing herself to stay conscious. Tears kept streaming down her face. She couldn’t believe her ears but when she did, she knew he wasn’t lying. She cried all night, thinking about the times - when they were happy. The moments that she thought of a few hours back, which had made her smile, now made her cry her eyes out.

She had stopped talking him or maybe he stopped talking to her, she didn’t know and she was contended. But now, none of that mattered. She refused to believe it, but deep down she knew she had fallen in love with him. She also knew that she would never be able to love again. It’s been 2 years now. The mourning has diminished but there are several days when all she does is to live her life normally only to come home at night, curl up in bed, and let her mind get filled with the echoes of the line he said on the phone and cry herself to sleep.

Only to come home, curl up in bed and cry.

He had said, “I think I have feelings for Ria. The girl I met at the bar last week.”

Today is just another one such day.

Has it EVER dawned on yew why yew cry over the past?

Have yew ever thought of sharing your pain after yew had decided that no one ever will be genuinely interested, because that’s how the world is ? People are only interested in your BS if either they have something to relate with their life or they get some juicy gossip.


Life is unfair. MILLIONS of times we have heard that but yew say that the million and one-th time won’t make a difference. Just realising that life isn’t easy doesn’t make it any simpler. And those who say it does, are either idiots or too strong to forgive.


It takes strength to forgive, ii agree but ii also agree that maybe then, ii don’t have that much strength. The bad times ii have been through, every now and then make me cry my eyes out. And ii don’t see why people keep saying that don’t cry over the past? What else are we supposed to cry about then?


You can share your pain with people, but why to? As if anyone cares.


Pain ii have been through? It’ s pretty much normal - being dumped (not quite dumped but close to it), being called a slut, a stalker, a hypocrite, a liar and almost all sorts of BAD things. Disappointing parents, breaking other’s heart, topping a million of people’s hit list, backstabbed by friends. Sounds very USUAL, doesn’t it?


Well honestly, ii typed all of those in detail and trust me, it didn’t seem anywhere near to normal pain that a teenager puts up with. Yes, there are millions out there who have faced worse than ii have - matter of life and death, matter of home and food and all that. But ii don’t think ii really wanna get there atm. Anyway, ii couldn’t put that detailed drama here because ii realised am not ready to blurt that out here just yet. Maybe, some other day. Not that ii worry if someone might read, coz hardly any one reads my blog (yea, cry baby ii am). But ii just don’t wanna share my pain. :| That’s how ii am. ii just don’t share my pain with anyone. No one has ever even given a reason for me to, and those who made me do it, ended up hurting me. This was like, 4 years back so ever since then, ii haven’t shared my pain with anyone.


And yes, all this might seem very casual, like it happens with everyone. Maybe then, am not strong enough like everyone else. Maybe ii am just that person who has the dark feeling of coal overpowering because of which ii don’t see the diamonds in my life (ii read this line at some other blog. Don’t remember which one, but when ii do, i’ll put it up here). Maybe ii am just the weakest person on this earth because ii let these things get me every now and then. Like once in 3-4 months. Today is just another one such day when my barrier broke. ii have been crying since last night and ii desperately want it to stop, coz ii have an exam tomorrow which ii don’t wanna screw up. ii have tried everything, keeping myself busy by talking to friends, watching tv, listening to music, studying, crying, reading random blogs, tried sleeping. But NOTHING is working. So ii thought maybe writing would. ii feel better now, only ii don’t know for how long that will last. When ii talked to the friend, ii was pretty much okay for next one hour so lets see how long does this keep me from getting upset.


ii simply hope this day gets over soon

They say forget and forgive. But when one can’t forget, how can one forgive? That way, ii can say ii don’t forgive because ii never forget.